I Met a Boy, Part II

On the Monday following said “incident” he called me to confirm a few things. He couldn’t quite remember exactly everything that had transpired. Okay, cool. Everything is fine. Nobody has ANYthing to worry about. But his tone… there was something in his tone that I just didn’t quite like. It was a subtle mix of fear, mild condescension and too much tact. When we hung up I felt completely put off, and somewhat discouraged. The old Michele would have “let it go” meaning: toss and turn all night, wrack my brain to figure out what his “tone” meant, and do everything but, in fact, let it go. Instead, I called him back. I told him that there was clearly a conversation that we should have had a long, long time ago, and the idea that this was making him exceedingly uncomfortable was beginning to make me uncomfortable. The conversation ended civilly enough, and I felt good about speaking my mind instead of being my typical passive-aggressive self. We resolved everything. On to the next one.

Except, I didn’t talk to him at all that week. No text. No calls. No gchat. No nothing. By Friday, I was on the verge of just cutting him off once and for all. Instead, I sent him an email. Cut and paste for your reading pleasure here:

I know you're not a phone person, so I'm hoping you're an e-mail person. I know you're slammed with work and grad school apps, but I was hoping to get a little of your time this week or this weekend. My schedule is pretty crazy too with last minute holiday stuff, so I imagine it may be difficult. I'd still like to try to get together, though.

We haven't spoken at all since Monday. I can't help but assume it has something to do with the nature of our last conversation. I've been thinking a lot about it, and I feel as though we handled it appropriately. I will admit I was annoyed at how it happened and how we resolved it, but I'm hoping that it's something we both feel okay about.

Aside from that, I'm having trouble figuring out the best way to get to know you. I thought we liked each other, but perhaps I misread something. Without consistent phone calls or text messages, we're limited to going out. Given both of our schedules, those outings seem to be few and far between. I'm not complaining, but I do want to make sure we're on the same page. We've been hanging out for a few weeks, but I can't say I really know you any better than I did on October 24th.

I hope this note finds you well. Perhaps I'll see or hear from you sooner than later.

Short. Sweet. Non-emotional. To the point.

He responded, via g-chat, with bullet points.

hey. just read your email. a few thoughts:

12:25 PM -- thanks for the thoughtful note. i think you've been very respectful of my time commitments (or lack thereof) and I'm appreciative of that

12:26 PM -- on the Monday conversation/weekend events... I'm quite disappointed in myself by my saturday actions and not just what happened between us but how much i drank and the fact that i drove after drinking so much, so i'm still trying to get a grip on that

12:27 PM -- on the getting to know me piece: this is a much longer conversation and one that may or may be better to have in person. however, i'll say a few quick things.

12:30 PM actually, i'll leave it at that

Now, I know my email was concise and all, but it was still a letter. His response was so... formal. It must be the consultant in him. I let him know I had a lunch commitment for work and that I needed to leave the computer for a bit, but that we would catch up later. Do you know I didn’t hear from him for three weeks? No “Merry Christmas,” no “Happy New Year.” I didn’t even bother calling him on his birthday (December 27th) because I was so disappointed at having been ignored for a week and a half. Time passed, and I was slowing “letting HIM go” (aggressively, not passively) by occupying my time with the Holiday 5K, heading home, seeing an old flame, connecting with high school friends, etc. etc.

But this past Wednesday I decided I wanted to break the silence. Clearly he just wasn’t that into me. And, that was fine. I had been through worse. I could call a two-month fling what it was, and not be scarred by it. Yes, I would have liked to have seen our little blossom continue to bloom… especially during the cold winter months… but I could accept that that was not going to happen. I just wanted to know 1. if he had gotten some of his belongings that I had mailed to him and 2. what had happened? Had I done something wrong? Was he really THAT busy? (NO) Did he have the balls to say he just wasn’t feeling me anymore?

I sent a passive gchat note. He responded a day later with a passive reply. I have yet to say anything else. I’ve confided in Melanie to see if she has any insight; and all she harbors now is contempt for Aaron. She’s upset that a guy that smart could be so dumb. It happens. I think she’s more mad than I am! LOL. I’m not even mad, really. It’s like I said – he’s the biggest (and most confusing) highlight of Q4, 2009. And, perhaps that’s where he should stay…


The jury is still out on that one...

I Met a Boy, Part I

So, I took a little break in November in December. I had the time of my life, to be perfectly honest. The end of October was AMAZING. I was feeling myself. I can't even lie. I had gotten over the hurdle. There were some residual emotions, but I was working through those. I had raised the funds for the Light the Night walk, and completed the event with minimal tears. Homecoming season was right around the corner, and while I would not be attending my alma mater's annual festivities, there were two other HBCUs that would surely fill that void. In November I kicked ass at work, increasing productivity and content for our little online store by 250%. I kid you not. December was the wind-down month. It was full of holiday parties, charity work, warm, fuzzy emotional moments with friends, and plenty of reflection. I headed home for Christmas, and thoroughly enjoyed a week of shopping, drinking with Mom and friends, a major party, one late-night rendezvous, and plenty of much needed rest.

But the biggest (and most confusing) highlight of Q4 of 2009 is "the new boy". We'll call him Aaron. I met this young man at the first of two consecutive HBCU homecoming weekends. I partied for two weeks straight - yes I did. I deserved it! Anywho, I met this guy... well, I had known him for awhile... he's Melanie's boyfriend's BFF. And, awhile back he'd mentioned to Melanie that he might, sorta, kinda have a thing for me. Well, I was completely preoccupied with that trashbag of a man who shall forever remain nameless, so, I never paid him any mind. Welp. I called myself ready to entertain something new, and there he was - friendly, happy to see me again, slightly intoxicated, handsome, and perhaps still a tad into me. It felt niiiiice. We chatted at the tailgate, and even danced together at the massive block party into the early evening hours. Afterwards, the whole groups of us (me, Anisa, Melanie, Mel's boyfriend, the boyfriend's friends, etc.) went back to his place for post-tailgate/pre-game/follow-up drinks to keep the party going. His. Place. Was. AWESOME. A gorgeous loft with smooth concrete floors, an exposed brick wall, a sunken in living room, space for a dining table AND desk, a full downstairs bathroom, and a quaint upstairs bedroom. Being a consultant paid well, I saw.

We were drinking, and he was doing/saying all the right things: pulled me aside, told me he wanted to take me out... on multiple dates. Once to the art museum. Again to the movies. A third date with his "little brother" and my "little sister" since we were both mentors through BBBS. It was cute. And I was thrilled.  A nice guy who liked me?! And had manners? Where do those come from? People were starving and the two pizzas he had graciously ordered for the group had apparently evaporated or something, so he asked me to come outside with him so we could order Chinese. We were struggling. We were both drunk and, I don't know if you know this but, Chinese take-out places don't typically deliver. But we were steady calling these take-out restaurants for food, perplexed as to why they wouldn't deliver food to us. Yeah, we were in the hood... so? 

After call four or so, my stomach was still growling, my head started to droop in disappointment when he leaned in and kissed me. Out of nowhere. This shy, somewhat awkward, but otherwise really cute guy pulled me closer to him and just went for it. Boy. Oh. Boy. Do you know how long it had been since I'd been kissed like that? With passion but uncertainty? With newness and excitement?! It was the kind of unsteady kiss that had us backing into the hallway wall, stumbling over each other's feet, forgetting about it, sinking into it, losing ourselves, relaxing... Whew, chile. I want to do that again.

We made our way back inside, empty-handed, and decided  a drive-thru might be a better alternative for our hunger woes. He drove. And, at every stop sign, stoplight, and remote pause in our trip, we were kissing. It felt so amazing. It felt so freeing. It felt so naughty! LOL. Was I back in school? This was fun! Innocent enough, but still kinda sneaky. Right up my alley.

The evening passed quickly enough. Aaron kicked everyone out, claiming we were headed to the W. No one was really feeling that, so we ended up just peacing out. From there, though, bloomed a cute little thing. We had a lunch date two weeks later, and subsequent outings after that. I was enjoying it. Granted, he was hard to get a hold of lots of times - he traveled for work, and wasn't much of a "phone person" outside of that (as he put it) - but we were maintaining. And it worked for a nice little while... Well, a month and a half.

"Not a phone person," hm? I could understand that, and I could respect it... but it became more and more of a hurdle with every interaction. He wasn't much of a communicator period. There would be HOURS in between texts; days between simple "check in" calls; and, a convenient amnesia that seemed to creep into our plans every once in awhile. Like, how was I supposed to get to know this dude if we rarely saw each other, and couldn't catch up over the phone in the interim? Couple that with the fact that we began a physical relationship rather prematurely and, well, it ended up turning into more of "a situation". We were nowhere near a "relationship" and I'm too old to be called a "boo". So, we were dating, and sleeping together, but not effectively communicating - at least not to my satisfaction... and that was troubling.

The death of our "situation" occurred on the eve of his company holiday party. I had gotten all dolled up, and pissed because everything kept going wrong. I ruined my manicure. The rain was f-ing up my new hairdo. I spent too much money on make-up, and was rushed to get ready when he surprised with an early pre-game time. Whatever. I got to his place and broke the f-ing wine bottle opener in the cork of a Merlot. I gulped a vodka cranberry instead and just did my best to calm my nerves. I was too jittery. The party ended up being a blast. His colleagues were great. We followed that up with a trip to his friend's house celebrate a GRE completion for, none other than, his BFF - Melanie's boyfriend. Blah, blah, blah. We decide to go out for more drinks and celebrate. Aaron and I were the first to leave, and in the parking deck, while we were waiting for everyone else to come out, we start to fool around. I'm not going to bore you with the graphic details, but we ran into a little... um... uncomfortable/awkward situation(s). It hasn't been the same since.

Life Training

I've made my mother upset with me. Well, not "upset" upset... but, you know, more than uncomfortable. In my exuberance and excitement following the "Light the Night" Walk hosted by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS) I decided to sign up for a half-marathon in March. LLS has this organization called Team In Training - a group of extreme sports athletes who raise funds for LLS and train for marathons, half marathons, triathlons, you name it.

The stars aligned to even get me to this point.  During my blogging hiatus I applied to Yale's Diversity Weekend and got rejected. In an effort to stay positive, I applied to Stern's "Women in Business" weekend, scheduled myself to attend a class and grab a coffee with a current student. In the midst of my NYU weekend, I met an applicant who happened to mention how she had raised funds for this organization because her father had Leukemia... 

"Wait, did you say your father had Leukemia? Have you heard of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society?" I inquired.

"Yeah!" she said, shocked. "They have this thing called 'Team in Training' where you train for these races and raise money for LLS. It's great because you have a team to motivate you even when you may not feel like training. They give you a coach, and a trainer... they prep you with all these health seminars along the way. It's really rewarding," my new friend said.

I was sold. As soon as I got back to work the following day, I googled TNT, found a local race, and bam! Not only was there an upcoming half-marathon in my area, but it happened to be the EXACT SAME RACE CeCe had mentioned to me a few weeks before. When she first suggested it, I was less than enthused. At the time, we still had our little 5K to run (we both killed that on December 19, btw). But knowing that I could continue to work with LLS and tone my petite little self at the same time was too much of a good thing. I let her know we were doing it, and even got her on board to fundraise with me. Friends - and I mean REAL friends - are very hard to come by.

Fast forward to this week. I had retrieved my mother's address book over the holiday break and let her know I was going to be sending fundraising letters to a good portion of the people in it. To be honest, when I drafted the letter for this particular fundraiser - much like the email I sent out for the "Light the Night" walk - I referenced my loved one as "a close family member". I tried to maintain anonymity and respect my mother's privacy.  But... Mom beat the cancer in October. She was feeling much, much better. She was singing, traveling, and living her life like her old self. So, in the final letter, to compel people to donate, and to make it even more personal, I stated I was raising the money for Mom. I was proud of her. I was emotional. And I wanted to let people know that my mom was one tough cookie.

Well. Tonight I got my first shocked phone call from a cousin. Wamp, wamp.

"HOW IS SHE? HOW DID I NOT KNOW? WE ARE DEFINITELY GOING TO DONATE."

While I was happy to get my point across, I knew my mom was about to be pissed about these upcoming phone calls. Seventy-five letters. I sent out seventy-freaking-five letters to family, close friends, and a handful of personal Atlanta contacts.

I've done the math, and I think only about 33 of the people on the list MIGHT actually call her... and that's if they have her number. But damn. This is exactly what she wanted to avoid by not having ever mentioned it to family friends before. Point taken. I'm sorry.

I called her to prepare her for what might ensue. She told me she was proud of me, and didn't want to rain on my parade, but this is why she hesitated to even help out with fundraising to begin with. She didn't like the way people looked at her or spoke to her when they found out she had cancer. She said people will continue to use the word "have" - the present tense - even though she's already beaten it. Once a cancer patient, always a cancer patient. "There's power in words," she said. "I don't want words interfering with what has already come and gone."

And perhaps this is just me, but that is where I disagree. God shines brightest through other people's trials and tribulations. We learn how to be strong by watching and surrounding ourselves with strong people. Over the past few months, I've had more friends tell me they admire MY strength than ever before. My strength? What makes you think I have that?

They watched me cry. They watched me pray. They listened to me rationalize. They saw me grow. They saw GOD carry me through what was truly the most difficult period in my life. And, you know, I hope that means I was able to bring at least one other person closer to God. I hope my overcoming was evidence for someone else to believe that God is able. God will not fail. He will not forsake you. He will carry you through.

And... well, maybe... I'm hoping that Mom will see it's time to shine her light a little too. When people call or approach her with the whiny 'how are you feeling' schtick, maybe she can just smile, gracefully, and let the person know she's feeling fine. She's 100% better. She's good.

And, maybe, when they ask how she got through it, she can say "the Lord got me through it."

And, maybe, it will touch one person. To touch just ONE would be enough. And they'll take those six words home with them and begin a new relationship with GOD...

Or maybe she'll just ignore her phone for the next few days.

Sighs. I hate when I get on a person's bad side. She's my mom, so I don't expect I'll stay there too long... but. Man. I was just trying to do something good! Something positive! For HER! My excitement got the best of me, I guess. Lesson learned.