What do you do when someone you were fond of decides they’re no longer fond of you? Do you plead with them to stay in your life? Or do you say, “Oh well. Fuck you,” and keep it moving?
I’ve moved along the spectrum – between “please don’t go” and “get the hell on, motherfucka.” As a teenager, I was obsessed enough with a boy to grovel at his feet, beg, protest, cry, sleep in the window so I could watch his house – even lightly cut my wrist a with a steak knife when he went away to Job Corps. Couldn’t live without him. I was also crazy enough to pull out a butcher knife on him, slap him in the face, and wrestle him, even though he was more than a foot taller than me. He wound up going to prison. Even still, it took years for me to move on emotionally.
As an adult, I cared enough about a guy to want to continue a romantic and professional relationship with him (not a “girlfriend-boyfriend” situation) even though he was clearly being an asshole. Or maybe I was just in denial. Maybe it was both. I never pleaded or groveled – at least not verbally, but my actions were definitely counter to his. Distance and time healed that wound. Setting emotion aside, I still think he has great qualities that I admire, but that’s where it will stay.
Most times in between, I pretty much said, “Oh well, BYE!” And added a few verbal and or non-verbal “fuck you’s” in the mix too. What the hell? If you wanna go, don’t let me stop you.
Well, I didn’t quite say that when a boyfriend cheated on me. Actually, I didn’t even know his reason for needing ‘space’ was that he had gotten another girl pregnant. I found out nine months later when the ten pound baby boy was born. I never said “fuck you” outright when he requested space. I cried for about a week, permed my hair (after wearing a short natural and braids for three years), and a month later started dating a guy who had been watching/ stalking me while I was busy being faithful to him. I never spoke to the cheater again until 11 years later. Came across him on Facebook around the same time I was splitting with the guy who took his place. I learned that he’s facing deportation back to the Caribbean. But anyway, like basically, “fuck you.”
And if you read my previous post – Ladies: Our Male Friends Have Motives, you know about the old flame that game me an ultimatum about not having sex with him. I was like “BYE!”
Somewhere along the lines, I conditioned myself to let go. I learned to tell myself “if this person does X,Y,Z, that’s it. I’m letting them go.” It’s much worse when you care, but life goes on.
This may have something to do with my father leaving the household when I was twelve. He and my mother stayed separated but married until he passed away in 2010. My steely resolve may have something to do with the fact that I’ve always had a strong personality, from as far back as Kindergarten. Out of three sisters, and me I was the one generally labeled “mean.” I’ll take that.
And at this point, I have low tolerance. I admit.
Earlier this year, I met a guy at this after work spot/ nightclub in Manhattan called Le Pomme. I can’t remember his name, but he was 27 years old. I was a little taken aback when he offered to take me to Dallas BBQ’s but I thought, “okay, let me be open-minded.” The food made my stomach bubbly and sick, but after lunch we saw The Hunger Games at the IMAX Theater in Times Square, which was pretty cool. After that night, he never called again. I was almost relieved because I sensed his lack of confidence and wasn’t feeling him anyway. “Oh well, BYE.”
I’ve become cool with guys on social networking. Juicy conversations turn into the occasional “hey, just checking to see how you’re doing” (if that). At least once, cheerful conversations turned to blocking someone altogether. Well, such is the nature. I don’t take it personal. It happens.
The point is this: I take my time investing feelings and emotions into relationships because when I care, I care. When I love, I love hard. I can’t go loving hard and caring about everyone, and letting people in left and right. And when people want to exit my life, I know that I’ve survived ‘x’ amount of years without them and I will continue to do so. I’m not chasing anyone. People and resources tend to always show up right on time. And no matter what, I learn from every experience. I’m always able to find some value in having known ‘that person’ who chooses to ride out. BYE.
Is it better to beg and plead, give less than two fucks, or find a middle ground? Thoughts? Comments?