The past couple of days have been strange. It has taken just about twice as long as normal to get things done. I felt depressed yesterday morning after arriving at the office without my daily soy latte. I tried to power through it without the coffee, but every time I thought about it I just felt bluer. It was the weirdest thing. After that, everything kept getting on my nerves. Appointments that should have taken 15 – 30 minutes were taking up to 3 hours to reach a resolution. I was so pissed off by the afternoon that I just caved and treated myself to an iced soy latte. It was heaven. I felt right as rain after just three sips. Well, I felt better anyway. I still had a melancholy disposition. I did yoga, and still the grey cloud hovered over me.
In the back of my mind, I’ve had the nagging fear of meeting Killa B’s best girl. She’s eight. I’ve been here before. The last time (about 6 years ago) was a bad experience – one that has soured me for good it seems. After that, I really don’t want to meet any more kids, especially girls. If someone were to analyze my last string of involvements, they might notice that I purposely throw a hostile variable into the mix when the possibility of me meeting the kids threatens to come up. It gets so complicated when they are involved. If dealing with kids wasn’t enough, the baby mommas are a mess. After earning the kid’s trust, then you have the mom breathing down your neck and using the kid as a manipulation tool. It’s pathetic. My mom and I fought for a really long time after I came of age because of that type of behavior. I knew my dad loved me, and I resented her for saying anything in opposition. I’m over that now. I mean, no one is perfect. My parents were a dysfunctional couple. They loved each other and us (me and my brother); they just had a strange way of showing it. After they split up, my mom had boyfriends and my dad had girlfriends. The boyfriends were cool, but I despised the girlfriends. As far as I was concerned, I was the only “other woman”. This is why I hate meeting guy’s daughters. I know exactly how they feel. Furthermore, I was a tyrant. There was no controlling me once I had the girlfriend in the crosshairs. Seriously, I became a smaller version of my mother, and we were all afraid of her. Six years ago, I met my 12 year old self reborn as my ex’s daughter. Karma is a bitch.
I’ve had some great experiences with the children of platonic guy friends. In the late 90’s, I had a friend who was a single dad with 2 girls. He and I had a long history of close calls. We had a very innocent childhood crush on each other that didn’t get soiled when we became adults. It was like neither of us wanted to step over the line because we had a really special friendship. His toddler treated me like her mother – she even started to call me mom one day when a bunch of us were sitting around at his house hanging out. It was very surreal. He asked her to repeat herself. She pointed at me, and said, “Mama”. I didn’t visit for a few days after that happened – scared I guess. When I did go back, it wasn’t long before he asked me to marry him. I said no. Soon after, he moved away. I missed the kids more than I missed him – confirming that my answer was the correct one.
I also don’t like sending the message to kids that casual involvements are cool. If I had my way, I’d have married my high school sweetheart and been done with it. However, he turned out to be a deadbeat dad who eventually turned on me and dotted my eye when I refused to accept his infidelities. No matter how much I was in love with the idea of spending my entire life with one person, I couldn’t settle for bullshit. For a while, I thought that there was some possibility that I could still meet someone who would be “the one” for the rest of my life. Now, though, I wonder if it really exists for me. I must admit that I have more doubt than faith. The older I get, the less I believe in that magical storybook love.
Children should believe in storybook love, love at first sight, happily ever after, Santa Claus, Peace on Earth, etc. I can’t go there anymore except sarcastically. The only thing I can do for kids is warn them about the inevitable disappointment that is coming. Sure, I can tie on my roller skates and take the little screaming banshees on a lovely turn around the rink, but what they don’t understand (or even need to) is that I’m skating to forget.
So, I’m putting off meeting the girl. I can meet parents, grandparents, friends, psychiatrists, brothers, sisters, exes or whomever – just no kids. Killa B is looking forward to it, so this will certainly come up again and again until I either meet the child or flee. I can hear Clay and Martina in my head saying, “Don’t be no punk.” LOL. I’m not ready yet! There’s no hurry, right? Why are people always rushing anyway?
On a side note, KB is cutting off his dreads tomorrow. When I get back from the Wharf to Wharf 10K, he'll be bald. He asked me how I felt about it, but I look at it like this: I'm not telling him what to do with his hair because I'm not going to ask him what he thinks I should do with mine - hello. Although I do think the dreads are hot, I'll get over it. I maybe wouldn't have been so attracted to him when we met without the locks, but as The Puppetmaster says, "If Affirmative Action gets you in the door..." That MF is so funny sometimes! Right now I am getting mentally prepared to meet up with a bunch of folks I haven't seen since Junior High School. I'm getting there early so I can be nice and tipsy when most of them show up. Everybody gets to see Friendly Hester tonight. Cheers!
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