For longer than I’d like to admit I’ve floated through my life. Merely being alive in the moments that passed by than really living them. I have no monumental moments in my life that call out to me as a staple to why I am the way I am. To be honest, I’m not sure who I am, or who I want to be. I don’t know where I came from or where I’m going. I look in the men that I’ve fallen in love with for an explanation, as if they can gather all the information I give them into a sensible thesis for my ever-unsure behavior and constant changing nature. It doesn’t help that I fall so easy. When I look back at the two men I’ve fallen for I couldn’t even tell you what I saw in them.

That’s a lie. With Alan, he seemed wiser than all the other boys that tried for me. Mainly because he didn’t try. He knew who he was and who he didn’t want to be, and I had hoped in the end maybe to adopt a bit of that. That maybe his certainty would trickle down to my personality. That’s just a guess though. To be honest, at first it was just fun. I didn’t think about being with him forever. I just wanted to be with him at that moment. I wanted to stay with him at plum park, I wanted to walk back to my house forever with him in an eternal loop that never would end.

We lasted for seven long and tiring years. It should have been about three or four, but I caused a scene at the restaurant when he tried to break up with me. I cost us many sleepless nights after, and a lot of pregnancy scares, and a lot of nights crying and him dealing with panic attacks I was not completely sure I was in control of. That relationship ended when I cheated on him. I kissed a married man from my job. The relationship was dead long before that. But that certainly did not help. We were to the point where I couldn’t hold his hand when we were out in public. Acts of affection felt like being apart of a horrible improv skit that neither participant was comfortable to act out, and this was before the forbidden kiss. And do not get me started on the sex. I never came all seven years I was with him. Turns out he never even really popped my cherry, that was done later by the second and hopefully last man I’ll fall for. I guess since we’re talking about him, let’s talk about him, Junaid. Or Jay for short. The reason I’m drinking and writing this… whatever this is. I met Jay working a factory job I took after being laid off due to glorious covid. Honestly, I didn’t pay him any mind at first. He was another man with a mask. Cause, you know, we all must wear masks now. I didn’t even really know what he looked like. I talked to him once before we started casually flirting at work. He was wearing a nice black bomber jacket with a maroon sweatshirt underneath and a matching beanie with black pants and black mask. He looked like he had tried that day and I wanted him to know it worked so I complemented him. “I like your outfit” a nice simple opening, we talked for a second more, still casual but the smile on his face was too bright even for the mask to hide. I did not think much about it though, not to sound like a conceited bitch, but it was a factory full of men and I was a young girl with a small-ish waist and nice ass. Everyone smiled at me. We had more and more interactions after that, all casual. I still was not interested funny enough.

I am a woman of detail, I notice things like a man’s hands before his face, and this particular day I happened to be working next to Jay, who always wore a jacket, so I had never looked at his hands. That day though he was working close, and I could not help it. His left hand had a tattoo of a treble clef, poorly done and fading. An obvious pick and poke. The hand itself was covered in the most beautiful pattern of veins I had ever seen. I guess you could say I have a bit of a fetish for a guy with nice hands, and the pick and poke tattoo left me wondering what kind of man he really was. As if he had suddenly acquired layers that I needed to pull back and admire. I started immediately imagining those hands gripping my inner thighs. I might as well had been salivating with how hard I was staring at them. Mind you I still have no idea what he looked like. We all wear masks now, remember.

 Day in and day out I would stare at those hands and wonder how well they’d look pulling at my waist and grabbing on me. I am not a shy girl and when he felt my eyes on him, he would look up only to meet my gaze and I would never look away. He knew I wanted him. It caused him to float over to me more and more. Talking to me and thus our casual flirting began. It wasn’t long before we planned a date to central park. A big, nice park not too far from my house and apparently not far from his either. When we met there, we wanted to immediately smoke. Pot heads being pot heads. My pen was dead though. So, he suggested we walk over to the smoke shop where he bought us a new battery. The walk was peaceful and nice. It reminded me of the long walks I would take back in St. Pete, Florida. Walking along the sea wall smelling the salt from the water as it crashed against the rocks. We walked back, smoked, and got nice and high. When we reached to the park, we found a nice bench outside of a tennis court that had an intense match going between two older black women who reminded me of my own mother and I. We watched them serve and cheered them on as the ball bounced back and forth eating some Spanish rice and chicken he brought and talking about our lives and family. It was a sweet night; he was a sweet guy. He didn’t touch on me. He didn’t make any moves or suggestive notions as we got to know each other, and as the day turned cold into night, we started back to the main road talking and swaying into each other’s shoulders. Both high and clumsy we tripped at the same time over an old parking block. I fell into him and he caught me and held me upright, we giggled, and our laughter died away as we realized the small breath of space separating our lips from touching one another’s. He looked at me with a want that warmed my whole body. I felt the same hands I had gazed at pulling at my waist and feeling just how I had imagined they would.

And then I pulled away from him, smiling a shit eating grin. I know. I am a tease.

“I thought we were going to do something there.” He said behind me as I continued to walk away.

“oh, I know” I smiled back at him, but continued my path down the road. I had no plans to kiss him. In fact, I was already thinking about the story I was going to tell Tati about the guy I left wanting me. But before I could come up with the witty opening to my story for her, I felt him pull on my arm and swing me back in front of him. “Oh, you meant you were getting your kiss” I was shocked and to tell the truth, immensely turned on by his brashness. He knew what he wanted. For the effort, I decided he had earned a small kiss. I started gently pressing his lips on mine attempting at first to take the lead but was overrun by his persistent beard. He pulled me closer and closer into into him, holding my waist and slowly finding his hands down the cup of my ass kissing me deeper, the intent and want shining clearly through. It was a make out session to be envied and when we finally realized oxygen was just as important, I was amazed at the man that stood in front of me. I won’t lie I had little hope for him at first. I thought he was a gentleman through and through. I figured he would never grab me the way he did. But there he grabbed and held my attention.

Fast forward a month and skip some slightly important facts, and here we are today. I am one more drink away from tipsy. And typing my heart away because it has been about three weeks since I had last seen Jay. He got into some trouble at home, and although I fully understand trouble at home and not being able to reach out all the time. I do not understand being able to post and be active on Facebook but not able to let me know your okay during a snowstorm. Or telling me I would see you this weekend to never hear even an excuse from you. I have never felt so pushed aside and left on a shelf like I do now. Empty words, followed by bitter silence is a girl’s worst nightmare, or at least mine. I can handle a man cheating on me. But do not tell me you love me, that I make you want to go steady, that I am your strength during hard times just to handle those hard times yourself in silence.

I have waited too many nights by my phone pathetically hoping for the “I’m on my way” text. Or even again, an excuse. I am done. Jay was a perfect specimen of a man in theory. He rubbed my feet without me asking, he considered my feelings first whenever I was with him, he made me feel like I was all that mattered when he looked at me. But when it got tough, he ghosted, and left me to assume and worry. How do you love someone and want to be there through thick and thin, but leave them in the dark when it gets thin? How do you get online everywhere else, post on your feed, but not let the person you said you would see, know you are not coming? Maybe I am overreacting. Maybe I have unresolved daddy issues from every man I was supposed to love putting me last. Maybe I just need too much attention. Maybe I just wanted an explanation.

 I deactivated my Facebook and uninstalled my Instagram, snapchat, and messenger. Not permanent solutions, but they have already lifted a weight off my mind. I won’t be checking to see if he’s read my messages or to see the last time he was online. In the meantime, Jay knows my number and where I live. When he has his shit together, maybe I will entertain these entries with the details that made Junaid so good to me. I don’t want this to be the end, but I don’t want to fight for this alone. It is his turn to let me know he cares. My family is moving soon, if by the time we move, I do not hear from him. It will be over. I’ll move on. I’ll forget about him like I forget about the small details of my childhood. But if I see him in my doorway, trying. I might have honestly found someone worth worrying over.

Avva