What a tangled web we weave when we introduce our "representative", instead of ourselves.
Why do we feel it necessary to create these falsehoods when meeting new people, instead of being confident enough to show the "real us?" Take for example the "brotha in the club". Confident, manicured, well spoken, and "SINGLE." Or so we think. He approaches us...as smooth as soft serve chocolate ice cream, nuts included, fresh from cold stone. Immediately...the bait is snatched. First thing he does? Hands over a business card with his name, and some "promotions”,"entertainment" OR "photography" company that he "owns". Now..Common sense ladies would tell us that if there's no fax number, or physical address on that bitch...HOW REPUTABLE IS THIS BUSINESS?
But instead, we keep our focus on the smooth skin, straight teeth, tailored suit and "single" status. He tells us how he is a "different type of man", "not like the rest", and that he wouldn’t feel right unless he walks us to our car. "Please make sure you call when you make it home. I won't be able to rest unless I know you made it safe." Immediately we start thinking about this fool being "potential husband material." The weaving has started.
What a tangled web we weave when we create our own realities instead of looking at what’s right there in front of us.
After a few conversations, and late night "text" sessions, we decide to meet. "Hell no, I am not giving him none on the first date."
Ok, but we can’t wait to get his ass over. We drop the kids off, clean the house spotless, and put Pandora on Jill Scott Radio, which by the way is the shit!! We take a few shots of vodka, stick a piece of gum in our mouth, put some open books on the table and dim the lights. The doorbell rings. "Hey. I was just reading. Almost didn’t hear the door." PLEASE!! You know damn well you were NOT reading.... haven’t looked at that book since you graduated college 5 YEARS AGO! You were too busy shaping that "landing strip" for the Negro you "weren’t giving any too." He compliments your house, tells you how refreshing it is to finally meet a woman like you. He speaks of how he's never been married because he refuses to "settle" for anything less than a righteous woman. Says he made the decision not to have children, because when he finally does, it will "be with the woman that god chose for him." You stare at him in awe and silently thank God for sending you the right man, at the same time trying to remember if the crotch of your newly purchased panties are lined, to avoid leaving a wet on your cashmere colored suede couch.
You talk for hours, about "Real shit", and how he would never disrespect you by sleeping with you on the first date. "Thank You", you say. Moments later, you grab his hand and lead him to your room. Within seconds, you are both asshole naked, with your leg propped up on the bathroom counter. In 2 hours, this nigga has gone from being your "God sent" to your "Daddy". Ha!
At the end of the night, you convince yourself that you have definitely met the "one", despite the fact that his phone hasn't stopped vibrating since he got there. Or that his car was keyed from the front bumper to the back door. Not my business, you say.
What a tangled web we weave when we start changing who WE are for the sake of a "representative."
Soon, our every thought is consumed with making sure we keep our "new man". We know he is only available during "specific hours" because after all, his business keeps him busy. We begin rescheduling our OWN shit, so that we can stay available during the times that he is "free." We start making regular stops to the mall to pick up new "bra and panty sets". We've all of a sudden become Bath N Body's best customer. Shrimp and fresh asparagus replaces the nuggets and frozen dinners that once occupied our coolers.
Soon our regular visits become swapped with "I'm sorry babe, late night meeting." Or "I have to drive to Long Beach, can’t make it tonight". We STILL convince ourselves that we have found Mr. Right, even though it is now 5 months in, and we have YET to call his ass at HOME.
What a tangled web we weave when we KNOW we are sharing, but we still chose to live in oblivion.
You are now receiving more calls from private numbers than you did when you let your grandma use your cell phone number on all the dumb ass sweepstakes forms she filled out. Only difference the sweepstakes reps weren't calling at 2 am...or were they? I mean every time he's there your phones are BOTH ringing at the SAME time from the SAME private number. Guess he has a gambling grannie too! Every time he's there, he has to be gone no later than 2 am. Isn’t that the time the clubs close? Well, on Saturday nights it’s because he has to get up earlyfor church on Sundays. But why is he ALWAYS dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, or a suit whenever he comes over? Even if it’s at 11 pm? Oh yeah, he said he's coming from a "Business meeting." Damn, he’s such a hard worker. I wonder where all his "hard worker" money goes. I'm always the one buying the food, stocking the bar with "drank", and spending all my money on lingerie I don't need.
What a tangled web we weave when we start participating in the lies, stopping our own growth.
"Listen baby. I love you so much I need to be honest with you. See I have a situation....................My heart isn’t there, but....... I’m sure you understand. Please just be patient. I promise, it’s just a matter of time."
So we start sympathizing, improvising, and becoming stagnant in our growth because "This man is worth waiting for". How did we get HERE in our lives that it is now ok to settle for something that we would NEVER fathom doing? My mama would beat me blue, if she even thought I would CONSIDER engaging in relations with someone else’s man! But that power of rationalization is a mutha!!!!! Can creep up on you like the pain of that wisdom tooth that should’ve BEEN out! Next thing you know our feelings are so wrapped up into what we thought was "Heaven sent". We start straying away from the church, isolating ourselves from our friends...consumed with the idea of a life with the "representative". All the while, the web is now out of control. The lies have become so overwhelming on both sides, that no one can even decipher the truth anymore.
What a tangled web we weave when we introduce our "representatives" instead of ourselves.
Friday nights had become routine to me. I would wait for him to arrive after leaving a "business meeting", which was always around 11pm. 11:05 exactly, the doorbell rings, and he walks in. "Baby, let's not even talk. Just pull your panties down." I turn into the submissive freak that he loved and give him what he asked for. The couch that I had once obsessed over keeping clean was now decorated with spots of passion. After our weekly session, we get up, put our clothes on, without bathing, and agree that a trip to Wal-Mart was needed. The Vodka was down to the last drop, and we were out of condoms. We hop in MY car. We couldn’t drive his too often...it was leased and he had to keep his "miles low".
We walk in Wal-Mart, grab our necessities and head to aisle 19 to check out. The cashier was obviously in no mood to converse with 30 somethin' year olds giggling and buying condoms at midnight, because her mood was horrible. Maybe it was the smell of passion that escaped his fingers when he handed over the money.
Before she could accept it, we both hear a woman's voice. "Sweetie, what are you doing here? You asked ME to pick up the wine. I expected to beat you home." I was face to face with a carmel-skinned, small framed woman carrying a bottle of Merlot. "Hello. I'm Shay. Ronnie's wife."
Like a well-rehearsed line in an upcoming Tyler Perry film I responded, "Nice to meet you Shay. I've heard so much about you. I went to school with Ronnie. What a coincidence running into him here."
I bowed my head in shame, ignoring the cashier’s looks of confusion and disgust.
"Bye you two. Ronnie, it was nice seeing you. Take care."
I walked out of Wal-Mart knowing that my representative had just made her first formal introduction.