So I'm at a family BBQ. End of summer. Sitting with my aunts and uncles. No one under the age of 70. And I look around in amazement at the lives that are around me. Just the pure LIFE. I mean, these are people who have lived through wars. Plural. Depressions, endless political administrations. Decades upon decades of music, fashion, technology, and of course love. Endless love. Love affairs, unrequited love, lost love, regretful love, all the kinds of love on this earth.
And in the corner of the balcony stood my Aunt Brownie. 78 years old. Never married.
Lives in Vegas. She was wearing leopard print heels, and taking swigs of some kind of ginger brandy out of a flask. And yes I know it sounds like a character in a novel, but this is a real life person.
And me, somewhat buzzed off of the 86 miller lites my family mistakenly thinks is the grand puba of all beers, I ask her the question I've been meaning to ask her my whole life. "Why were you never married. Aren't you lonely. I mean, you are old as hell. Don't you want someone to be there with you. "
Yes i know that wasn't the "smoothest" way to ask it. But hey, she's family. And she knows me. And she knows what i meant.
And she looked at me. And she told me from the bottom of her heart..why not.
Basic reason really. She just never wanted to. She always had her own money. Her own place. Her own life. She never wanted anyone she would have to "answer" to. Never wanted anyone to fill her life with drama. She told stories of lost loves. OF friends who are now divorced, or widowed. Of the heartache she's been through.
And I saw myself.
And she said to me. "I have been loved. And I have loved. And that is enough. There is not one person, not even you, who I would want to look at every single day of my life without making me want to smack the shit out of them. So I stay single, and I stay peaceful."
After which her brother, My Uncle, the resident "playboy" of the family, told lots of salacious tales about her,and her men, and her crazy antics of her youth.
But I tuned out. And saw the happiness that was in her eyes. The peace. And the calm.
And also the pride. The pride of being a black woman from the South who had made it to the age of 78 without ever needing a man to do shit for her.
And it was her that gave me some of my strength back.
I am currently involved in some bullshit ass "dating" thing. My friends always joke that I have a "roster" of men to choose from.
It's only because they don't realize, that it literally takes 9 players on a team, to even try and compete with the 1 man I've loved. The heartbreak that I've been through, over and over again, probably has scarred me for life.I can't even deny that, or hide it at this point. It comes out when i least expect it. A little burst of craziness will show its ugly face in the middle of a perfectly fine dinner. Or I'll burst out in tears at the smallest little argument, knowing very well that those tears were meant for another man, at another time, that I'm still living with.
I'm tired of the bullshit ass dating thing. The, do I call? Does he call? Do we have sex? Do we wait? Does he like me? Does he want to marry me? Does he tell these same things to other women? Do I REALLY want him? blah blah blah.
ITs boring really.
I've just been doing me. For about two years now. And i keep falling. And getting back up. This summer I fell really hard. Took a little longer to get over that one...but i have.
And it just seems like this is how life will be for the rest of my life.
I sit here in my apartment that i pay for, on the computer that i bought, with the cable that i pay for, in the clothes that I bought with my money. And I realize, all i need is someone to have sex with.
That's pretty much the only thing i can't do myself.
.....and even doing that myself sometimes is better than with a man.
So I still secretly wait for some amazing man to come and sweep me off my feet. And get married. And do all that gay shit with. Bed and breakfasts. Cute little picnics. Sweet snuggling in the middle of the night. Someone who actually loves you for who you are. Someone to help you get through this ridiculous thing called life, with some sense of sanity.
But I realize it's gonna take a helluva man to deal with me. And God help the man who does. And until that day...I'm ok.
And in the corner of the balcony stood my Aunt Brownie. 78 years old. Never married.
Lives in Vegas. She was wearing leopard print heels, and taking swigs of some kind of ginger brandy out of a flask. And yes I know it sounds like a character in a novel, but this is a real life person.
And me, somewhat buzzed off of the 86 miller lites my family mistakenly thinks is the grand puba of all beers, I ask her the question I've been meaning to ask her my whole life. "Why were you never married. Aren't you lonely. I mean, you are old as hell. Don't you want someone to be there with you. "
Yes i know that wasn't the "smoothest" way to ask it. But hey, she's family. And she knows me. And she knows what i meant.
And she looked at me. And she told me from the bottom of her heart..why not.
Basic reason really. She just never wanted to. She always had her own money. Her own place. Her own life. She never wanted anyone she would have to "answer" to. Never wanted anyone to fill her life with drama. She told stories of lost loves. OF friends who are now divorced, or widowed. Of the heartache she's been through.
And I saw myself.
And she said to me. "I have been loved. And I have loved. And that is enough. There is not one person, not even you, who I would want to look at every single day of my life without making me want to smack the shit out of them. So I stay single, and I stay peaceful."
After which her brother, My Uncle, the resident "playboy" of the family, told lots of salacious tales about her,and her men, and her crazy antics of her youth.
But I tuned out. And saw the happiness that was in her eyes. The peace. And the calm.
And also the pride. The pride of being a black woman from the South who had made it to the age of 78 without ever needing a man to do shit for her.
And it was her that gave me some of my strength back.
I am currently involved in some bullshit ass "dating" thing. My friends always joke that I have a "roster" of men to choose from.
It's only because they don't realize, that it literally takes 9 players on a team, to even try and compete with the 1 man I've loved. The heartbreak that I've been through, over and over again, probably has scarred me for life.I can't even deny that, or hide it at this point. It comes out when i least expect it. A little burst of craziness will show its ugly face in the middle of a perfectly fine dinner. Or I'll burst out in tears at the smallest little argument, knowing very well that those tears were meant for another man, at another time, that I'm still living with.
I'm tired of the bullshit ass dating thing. The, do I call? Does he call? Do we have sex? Do we wait? Does he like me? Does he want to marry me? Does he tell these same things to other women? Do I REALLY want him? blah blah blah.
ITs boring really.
I've just been doing me. For about two years now. And i keep falling. And getting back up. This summer I fell really hard. Took a little longer to get over that one...but i have.
And it just seems like this is how life will be for the rest of my life.
I sit here in my apartment that i pay for, on the computer that i bought, with the cable that i pay for, in the clothes that I bought with my money. And I realize, all i need is someone to have sex with.
That's pretty much the only thing i can't do myself.
.....and even doing that myself sometimes is better than with a man.
So I still secretly wait for some amazing man to come and sweep me off my feet. And get married. And do all that gay shit with. Bed and breakfasts. Cute little picnics. Sweet snuggling in the middle of the night. Someone who actually loves you for who you are. Someone to help you get through this ridiculous thing called life, with some sense of sanity.
But I realize it's gonna take a helluva man to deal with me. And God help the man who does. And until that day...I'm ok.
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