Reflections from November 9th, 2008
Well dammit. It's not as though I didn't have time to blog, because I very much did. I spent yesterday lazing around and producing audio of the adventurous kind. And then things turned melancholic for some reason or another, I'm not quite sure what.
I started out the day with a walk over the Broadway bridge into the Bronx where a Starbucks lay. I've seen it often enough but never drove to it. Yesterday, today and tomorrow I took off from work so yesterdy was my foray into "vacation," thus the walk. And perhaps after I'd ordered the latte is when things began getting a little less sunny. Even though the weather was beautiful.
I continue to roll the fact of the first black United States President around in my head, and I marvel that it's so historic and that it's happening in my lifetime. It's like one of those theories like "The First Martian Colony"--something that seems far off, but possible now. When it happens you realize someday is today.
In the same sense that "someday when I'm in my forties" is actually "today I'm in my forties." I started blogging when I was 38 or 39. I was moving to NYC for the first time and I was unmedicated. Worst Case Scenario Man was kicking my ass all over midJersey and I had just turned away a girl I was in love with, but was a catalyst to losing my confidence in my hetereosexuality. Yeah, that's what it was. She told me to stop talking about getting engaged until I could prove we'd be compatible sexually. I blogged about it, but I never did add in the last components of this. That 1) I was a virgin, which she didn't know, and so therefore pretty much terrified of the idea and 2) I was occasionally attracted to hot guys. I believed, perhaps naively, that since I loved this girl, and that I acknowledged within myself fully that she had the greatest rack I would likely be able to get my hands on in this life, and that her beauty otherwise was Ebony magazine-worthy, that I would be able to consummate my relationship with her should we be wed. And then all the church stuff that I'd been aspiring to also set me up to wait until marriage. So if she only could've waited with me, and wasn't as blunt as she could usually be, then she could've had me and I'd be married now with children. I probably wouldn't have been a blogger though. Yeah, life would have been pretty different. But would it have been happier?
And now, I'm 44. History is unfolding all around me. We have a black President-elect and pray God eventually President. (The forty-fourth President in the year that I turned 44.)
And life continues to plod on.
And I'm still waiting.
4 comments:
Well hmmm...I haven't been here in a while, so I think I'll go and watch the happy dance at the bottom while you continue to ponder :)
The 44 thing is quite interesting!
Dammmmmn.....44 and 44.
Interesting about your girlfriend there....a little piece of Alan history that I did not know!!!
I dated a virgin at age 36. Well, I was 36. He was 22 I think. Or 23. He came out and told me, which was a good thing because I'd figured it out after only a few dates. Eventually we went there and it was a beautiful experience. Like watching a fawn learn to stand on his own feet. Some women have said they would never want to do this - they'd rather be getting the experienced goods but I have to say that I had a ton of patience and it was just fabulous experiencing this guy during this new piece of life.
So.....I don't know what's good for you but I'm glad he confessed to me for what its worth.
No secrets! That might be a good mantra for your next relationship. If you can tell her all your secrets and she's still by your side, then you know you have a keeper. Of course, I don't mean you should tell everything you know on the first date. But after some months have passed and you've had a chance to get to know her and she you, you should let her in on your inner world little by little. You might be surprised at the results.
Grizz, look how long it took me to tell all of you guys who I've never met. lol. She was my girl before I started my cathartic blogging, so I was nowhere near comfortable enough with myself to tell her. I felt (feel) like the biggest freak this side of Mexico. A black man in his forties what ain't never had no sex?! And I wanted to be for her all the things I now see in my heroes. I wanted to be a sexual dynamo like Mike, a warrior-poet like Ned, a two-fisted father like Scott, and solid and true of heart like Matt. Instead I was this ... boy, under the scrutiny of the hottest girl I've ever dated.
Let me put up my next entry before midnight beats me home...
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