Crossing Over

I won't soon forget the clown who asked me out on a date early in the summer, then disappeared into thin air.

I suppose his Facebook status about how much he hates natural hair should've clued me in as to his whereabouts. Then again, you'd imagine all my kinky-haired photos would have been a big, bright, flashing stop sign for him as well.

While the brothas are turning their noses up at our afros and twists, other people are leading the conversation with, "I love your hair!"

And while some of you bums think the correct way to approach a woman is via text message asking if you can come over -- or better yet, directing her to come over -- someone shook my hand in Starbucks, asked my name and invited me to go surfing,

Yes, surfing. If I knew how to swim, I would've hopped in the the truck and rode out.

I guess it will ultimately work itself out. Y'all keep choosing the Barbies and Kardashians...and we'll go hang with the Robert DeNiros and Robin Thickes.

:o)

10/26

Even though I'm getting married, he said, sometimes you still need other friends you can confide in.

Today is the birthday of the man who said that to me two years ago.

He shared his lofty goals; I shared mine. He said he felt we'd somehow be able to help each other achieve them. Said he was glad we reconnected and that we'd always mean a lot to each other.

This was about eight years after he stood me up around junior year of high school, invited me to a Neptunes concert and met her there instead.

"I don't know what it was, as soon as I saw her I just always had these strong, love-type feelings," he said.

I had no idea I was competing with her; all I knew is he was a friend from wayyy back in sixth grade, the tall, skinny kid with big ears who looked like Will Smith, the silly guy who made me laugh, believed in me and knew me better than anyone else. And though high school graduation, college graduation and then some had passed without us speaking, I still remembered 10/26: his birthday.

I sent a message; it led to long nights of Facebook chatting and confessions on his behalf that I never saw coming. My own relationship wasn't as fulfilling as it once was; his was going to the penultimate level and still, I was just happy to have my friend back.

And then, as quickly as we reconciled, he faded back into obscurity. I asked what I did wrong...he said he didn't know what I was talking about. The wedding came and went...the silence is still here.

Don't we always get eerie feelings around Halloween-time? For me, it's just that I'll never forget today is the birthday of the man who said two years ago we'd always mean a lot to each other. And somehow he left me twice.

Never Happens in LA

There's a security guard checking IDs at the front door of the Buffalo Wild Wings in downtown Detroit.

(In fairness, there's guards at the B-Dubs in the suburbs, as well.)

On my way out, this man was sitting on a stool tearing into an ice cream sundae. 

An aside: Let me tell you about me and ice cream: That Saturday, the third one in October, Dairy Queen on 9 Mile was open, and a sign out front said there was a Sweetest Day Special.  (This is a holiday, I swear, in like 3 out of 50 states) It was cold, rainy and windy, yet I made my parents hit a U-Turn, I got out of the car and walked to the window and actually paid for everyone's ice cream just so I can have some.

Anyways, brotha man was getting down with that hot fudge sundae, and I yelled, "Dang, that look good!"

"So do you," he responded.

This never happens in LA. (Along with rain.)

A Better Person

"If you cheat on me, she'd better be Miss America," I said to my longtime friend. We sat in his car on a cold, rainy day in Detroit after having lunch with my family. I'd shared some info that he needed proof to believe.

"Let me see a picture of the girl," Chris said. I went to her Instagram on my phone.

"Let me see a picture of him," he said next.

"I don't have any," I said.

"Dria, I know he got a Facebook or something," Chris said.

"I'm not his fucking friend," I said, as I typed my ex's name in the search field.

Chris looked at the pic. He sighed.

"Let me tell you something: He's not going to be with her for too long, man," he said. I suppose he wanted me to find that reassuring. "Yea, it always feel good to have a girl and be talking to another one or whatever, but then you leave and find out that girl aint.... I mean, later on you realize you left a girl who, all she was really tryna do was make you a better person."

When Chris and I met he was 16; the obnoxious, always-in-trouble, knucklehead of summer camp. We called ourselves "talking" for the next year or so, during which time he lied often, disappeared occasionally and was exactly the type of idiot you'd want your daughter to avoid. In fact, our conversation took this turn because he said, "If I had it to do over, I would have treated you better."

In December he'll turn 30.  He's married, committed to his wife, hardworking and a proud father of two small children. The maturation I've been able to witness surprises me every time we speak. I think to myself, if he can get it together, anyone can.

I'm happy for the man he's become. But I wonder how many times I'll have to be that girl who should have been treated better, when all I was tryna do was make him a better person.

Assumptions & Explanations

Lord,

Please deliver me

from having any

expectations of other people.