I was a mess one night, a few days after I found out I needed surgery. I was feeling that kinda way when you just want a warm body to cuddle up next to.
Slight problem: I am a member of the single ladies crew. But the universe so had it that I was driving home in the area of a friend (the male kind). This particular friend stays trying to hook up with me. He will never accept, it’s just not meant to be. But I know him from long time; I love him plenty; and I can always rely on him to boost my ego, because he is pure flattery.
I realized this late night call could give the wrong impression, but surely when he saw my emotional state he would act accordingly. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I looked sickly; my heart was heavy; my mind was frazzled, but all he could see was my sweetness.
A word to the wise is sufficient: don’t rely on a guy who is looking for a booty call to be your shoulder to cry on. He was hopelessly inadequate. And I was completely foolhardy. The whole incident was a reminder that everyone needs to be responsible for their own peace of mind.
As he tried to be sexually suggestive, instead of speaking those two magic words, “what’s wrong?” I fumed inside. I wanted to tell him everything, not because he was special per say, but I just wanted to confess my fears to someone; someone who could baby me but not make feel like a child; someone who could remind me that I mattered and make me feel desirable at the same time.
But the more oblivious he seemed, the less I wanted to share with him. By the time he inquired, I acted like a mute, because I felt he didn’t deserve to be in my inner circle anymore.
But against my better judgement I spilled the beans about my kidneys, the doctor’s death threat (I mean prognosis) and the impending surgery. Was it really too much to think he could empathize and for God’s sake, just hold me close, hug me, rub my arm, touch me softly some kinda how to make me feel I wasn’t alone, instead of just trying to have sex with me.
Needless to say, I left. I left with my tail between my legs cussing myself because I knew I shouldn’t have stopped. All along I knew nothing good was going to come from that stop. But when you are emotionally vulnerable your actions tend to trend on the impulsive and reckless side (Haven’t you ever heard, misery loves company).
Sometimes being responsible for your own peace of mind feels too damn much to handle. In that moment, I didn’t want to be responsible. I wanted to collapse in someone else’s hands and be a baby: not in the arms of a parent, but in the arms of a stand-in lover.
Fortunately, I was able to laugh at myself. I didn’t internalise this as a write off of men in any way. There was no love lost; I just learned my lesson. In the end I didn’t have to process my pain all alone afterall. My sisters came to the rescue and helped me to achieve my first real turning point.
More on this later, as I write my way through the trauma and healing. Thank you for taking this journey with me.