The Light

“I never knew a luh, luh-luh, a love like this,

Gotta be something for me to write this,

Queen, I ain’t seen you in a minute…”

…many minutes Mademoiselle, and admittedly, I’ve thought of you, or rather us, excuse me in we, I mean be but, how came the, since see…what it is you do to me?

<<Deep breath J, you can do this>> Let me try this again:

Excuse me Mademoiselle, but admittedly, and in the many minutes since, I’ve thought of you, I mean us, or rather how we came to be.  Do you see what it is me…my…I…am trying to say love?

Let me slow down as my words are coming out jumbled and for the moment, or at least today, let me put away the lyrical wordplay and just say:

Premature as this may be, you’ve touched my heart in a way no one else has over the course of the weeks gone by.  I’ve watched my pessimism round the corner to optimism and I write this hopeful, that whatever or whomever, whether fate or the Father, brought us to be, grew you and I to us organically during this season, saw fit that a lifetime was the reason our paths came to converge. 

I may not always say and/or do the right thing(s), and by no means is this a preemptive ‘pology; what this is, is my attempt to express in the purest form I know how, exactly what it is you mean to me.

“I think you’re dope”.

As you blow out your candle(s) on this your birthday may your wish(es) come true and may you see many, many more…

Joyeux Anniversaire Mademoiselle Desruisseaux! 

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Insanity

4:30pm – After mixing all necessary ingredients, the cheesecake was finally ready to go into the oven…and in it went.  I then gathered the remaining ingredients for the other dishes.

5:00pm – The onions were sautéing in a pan while I cut the red/yellow/green bell peppers.  Chicken breasts were cleaned and cut in cubes, with a touch of salt sprinkled on them seconds before I added them to the sautéing onions.  Three or so minutes later, a habenero pepper was cut in quarters and thrown in to add a little spice.  A minute later, the soy sauce was added while I did my best hibachi chef impersonation, almost cutting my finger in the process…SMH!  Everything smelled great…well of course it did, I was cooking it…duh?!?  I checked on the cheesecake in the oven and it looked lovely.  Realizing, “crap…I forgot to start the rice”, I lowered the stir fry (that wasn’t quite stirred or fry-ed) to a temperature of 1, quickly washed the rice, added a sprinkle of salt, a tablespoon of ‘I Can’t Believe It’s not Butter’, and placed it on the stove to start cooking. 

5:30pm – As the rice began to boil, I lowered the temperature, covered it, and tended to the stir fry that had been waiting patiently (like it was going anywhere).  I added the bell peppers, some thinly sliced carrot pieces, some bok choy, some bean sprouts, threw a little salt over my left shoulder, a pinch more over my right shoulder, sprinkled a little more in the palm of my right hand and threw that into the stir fry and said “BAM”!  Who ‘you’ think taught Emeril Lagasse that?!? If you don’t know you betta ask somebody!

5:55pm – The food was all done; time to get ready.  But before getting so fresh and so clean-clean, the kitchen needed some clean-cleaning…so Mr. Clean I became…no bald head.  I set the table, candle in the center, and rushed to get in the shower.  It had been a long, busy day trying to get everything just right for the evening and although a few minutes behind schedule, I spent a few extra minutes in the shower as it was so soothing and doing a good job calming my nerves…yes indeed, I was extremely nervous at that point.

6:20pm – I got in my car and made my way to pick up my date, but not before confirming I had my gift, the tulips, and a single white rose…check, check, and check…I was good to go!

6:28pm – I arrived at the lovely lady’s house, rang the doorbell, and was greeted by the young lady’s best friend who smiled, complimented me on my attire, and quickly took the gift I had in hand sneaking off into the house.  The young lady’s mother made it to the door, smiled saying, “Good evening Jeremy.  How are you?”  She paused, slightly surprised, as I handed her a bouquet of tulips (her —the mother’s— favourite flowers).  I wished her a Happy Valentine’s day and thanked her for raising such a beautiful young lady…

6:34pm – She finally walked down the stairs in a beautiful lilac dress and took my breath away.  I regained my composure moments later; we were already four minutes behind schedule so I had no time to waste.  I handed her the single white rose, kissed her gently on the cheek, and whispered “You look stunning”.

6:42pm – Arm in arm, we walked to my car, while best friend and mother looked on from the doorway all smiles.  I opened the passenger side door and allowed my lady to get in, this time I whispered, “You’re sexy as hell”. (What?!? I couldn’t say that in her mother’s house AND while her mother was within earshot.  So what if I was whispering? DON’T JUDGE ME!!!)

6:51pm – We arrived back at my apartment, walked in, and I took her coat.  I hung it behind her chair, in part to indicate which seat she would be taking and in part for another phase of my plan.  I pulled her chair out revealing a bouquet of 6 red roses.  My lady smiled…

6:56pm – Dinner was served.  We dined over candlelight while conversing about the never ending snow and admitting how thrilled we were about the current weather <sarcasm intended>. 

7:25pm – The doorbell rang and outside was a driver, in a black suit and black top hat, who led us to the black Lincoln Town car that awaited us.  At that point, my lady was beaming unaware of what was happening but obviously curious.

7:57pm – We arrived at our destination after a car ride of the same question every four minutes: “Where are we going?” to which I would respond, “You’ll soon see.”  The destination?  The theatrical performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat; the one play my lady wanted to see and spoke about for weeks.  Yessir, I got tickets and we were there in living colour…or rather technicolor.

10:45pm – The limousine headed back to my apartment.  Dessert was on deck after a wonderful evening. [Dessert…as in the cheesecake people…the cheesecake…let’s keep it kosher!]

11:17pm – We arrived at my apartment and I again asked my lady for her coat.  This time, I slipped something into her left pocket, her unaware of what was going on as she was still surprised at the events of the evening.   I presented her a slice of my culinary creation, and her favourite dessert, strawberry cheesecake.  We enjoyed the cheesecake while discussing our favourite, and not so favourite, parts of the musical.

11:40pm – Being a man of my word, and not wanting to upset her mother, I let my lady know I was taking her home.  Indeed, Cinderella needed to be home before midnight.

11:51pm – We pulled into her driveway exchanging a kiss I wished lingered a little longer.  I walked her to the door, expressed how lovely an evening it was and said my goodnight’s (of course her best friend and mother were up waiting to get details…women I tell you).

12:04am – I arrived back at my apartment, yet again four minutes behind schedule, and placed a call to my lady to wish her a good night.  It took two calls for her to pick up in part because she was surprised at the teddy bear and card left in the center of her bed (placed there by her best friend – the gift I gave the best friend when I first went to pick her up – as planned) and in part because the ringing phone was one she didn’t recognize; it was the new, and her first, cell phone I purchased for her (what I slipped in her jacket pocket prior to us enjoying the cheesecake).  On the phone screen, my name showed up as, “Happy Valentine’s Day Sweetie”

That was the culmination of my perfectly planned February 14^th…a plan that 14 weeks earlier was not even on my mind as 14 weeks earlier, I had yet to meet my fair lady. 

WHAT?!? You read that correctly…14 weeks earlier, I had no clue who this young lady was as I met her three weeks later.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I met the young lady roughly 11 weeks prior to our evening out.

Who the hell orchestrates a Valentine’s Day of that caliber for a young lady he has only known for 11 weeks?  Only yours truly!

I was called everything from naïve to an idiot, from crazy to insane, and my response:

“Insanity: Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results” –Albert Einstein

Say what?!?

Contrary to popular belief at the time, my response to my new lady love had little to do with my feelings for her but everything to do with my goal to never enter a relationship not expressing how I felt or not going out of my way to do any and everything to put a smile on the young lady’s face as had been my practice in relationships prior. 

That was my semblance of sanity.

In every relationship preceding that one, I wasn’t attentive, I paid very few compliments, and paid for even less afternoons and/or evenings out.  I don’t recall ever taking a young lady to dinner prior to that Valentine’s vixen. 

Don’t get me wrong, I may have invited a young lady over for dinner but even then I followed the PLAYA code and ordered some Chinese, put the contents in pots/pans, threw away all evidence of the meal being ordered, sprinkled a little flower and salt in the kitchen (and on my clothing), and made it look like a slaved over a hot stove…worked every time and worked like a charm!

Don’t hate the playa baby; hate the game! 

It wasn’t that I wasn’t chivalrous, or that chivalry was dead; it just hadn’t been born yet!  And born it was that Valentine’s long ago.

Yet at some point along the way, years down the line, Button became my name…Benjamin Button that is…and “I was…under unusual circumstances…while everyone else was aging, I was getting younger…”¹

…in maturity that is.  While some grew and learned the ways of maintaining a relationship, I seemed to revert to my old ways, the ways of days I was an immature lad, when I had a natural knack for nincompooping my relationships.

By no means is this meant to be self deprecating; on the contrary, the introspection proved to be quite enlightening and confirmed history does repeat itself.

In going through another period of self reflection after a companionship gone awry, a pseudo-relationship going nowhere, and the prospect of a new romance, it dawned on me, delayed a decade, “You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it…”¹ 

However, staying (or rather doing) the same yields the same result: an abrupt halting of the honeymoon phase of a hook-up or circular conversations confirming the pseudo-coupling could (or rather should) conclude.  Therefore, unless I counted myself insane, a change was what was needed. 

It’s been a long, long time coming, but I know a change is gonna has come...and that change is in hopes of yielding a better the best result.

“…I hope <I> make the best of it” ¹…for my own sanity.

Cheers!

--

¹ Quotations from the ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button’ (2008)

Selfish

Like clockwork every 3-6 months, Shaniquashay¹ would call and we’d spend 30-60 minutes over the course of 3-6 days catching up, which usually meant Shaniquashay spending 26-58 of those minutes catching me up on the tales of her most recent internet beau.  I would listen to her situation, interject to offer my wise counsel, she would vehemently disagree with my assessment of what her particular flavour of the month/quarter meant by his actions and/or his words (although by the next conversation she would confirm I was right…SMH), and proceed to detail exactly why men were fools for acting they way they did with her. 

This continued for about two and a half years and initially the conversations were entertaining (as I enjoyed getting my Dr. Phil on and psychoanalyzing the situation) but eventually became emotionally draining.  This is someone who trusted me with her inner most thoughts and feelings, confided in me when something went wrong, was comfortable being completely vulnerable around me and shed her hard exterior to express how fragile she was, and on the rare occasion, she cried.  Not only did I sympathize but I empathized with her situation.  She wasn’t going through something, we were going through something and until she was able to smile or laugh over the phone, I didn’t allow the conversation to end. 

When the conversation did reach a conclusion, I made it a point to follow up the next couple of days just to check in to make sure Shaniquashay was still in good spirits.  She would then disappear for a few months and resurface with a new story for the cycle to start again.

Towards the tail end of the two and half years, there was a particular instance where I noticed she was calling and didn’t bother picking up the phone.  Shaniquashay left a voicemail first on my cell phone and then my home phone.  Two or three days had passed and I received another call, looked at the caller ID, realized I neglected to return Shaniquashay’s call (in part because I really wasn’t in an emotional space to deal with her romantic refuse — as in rubbish — and in part because it actually slipped my mind), and started thinking of an appropriate excuse.

And then I listened to the voicemail she left…

“I KNOW you saw that I called you a few days ago and don’t even tell me that sh*t that you didn’t see my call because I called you on both your home phone AND your cell phone AND I left you a message on each! It’s good to know that when I’m going through something I can depend on you.  Some ‘friend’ you are!”

In most circumstances where I realize I missed a call a few seconds prior, I typically call the person right back without bothering to listen to the message because if I get them…

<<push pause>> Have you ever missed someone’s call, called them right back and they don’t pick up the phone? I never understood that crap! I’m tempted to ask the person if after they called and didn’t get me, they threw the phone across their apartment/house in frustration which would be a viable explanation for why when I call seconds later they don’t pick up the phone…but I digress…<<push play>>

…then we can just have the conversation that was supposed to take place.  Once that conversation is over, I’ll access my voicemail and just delete the message without bothering to listen to it at all. What’s the point right?  Glad we’re on the same page.

Had I done that in Shaniquashay’s situation, things may not have escalated the way they did because after hearing her message, I did 35 push-ups, 17 jumping jacks, and shadow boxed for 8 seconds²; we were about to go to ‘blows’!

No this chick did not have the audacity and the testicular fortitude to suggest I wasn’t a dependable friend because I didn’t pick up the phone nor return her call right away.  Not to mention this Salem witch didn’t even give me the benefit of doubt and at least preface her disappointment with a statement asking if everything was okay, if I was okay, or something to remotely show some level of concern…nothing!  She shot first, asked questions later.

I started dialing her number HEATED but ready…IT. WAS. ABOUT. TO. GOOO. DOOOOWN!!!

But I stopped as a quotation I read earlier ran through my mind: “Never argue with a fool, they will lower you to their level and beat you with experience.”

This was the same Shaniquashay that had a new boo thang every few months, argued and nagged them to death because of her hot-headedness, and refused to listen to any advice I provided although time and time again, with that wonderful thing called hindsight, I proved I was right.  Arguing with her would amount to nothing so I had to employ a craftier means of getting my point across.

I calmed down and put my plan in motion calling her a day later and it went a little something like this:

Jeremy (J) – Hey, sorry I missed your call. I was in the hospital and was just released today.

Shaniquashay (S) – OH MY GOD Jeremy, are you okay?!? I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened?

J – Nothing…I just wanted you to feel like an a-- for the messages you left.

S – Jeremy don’t do that sh*t man…I was seriously worried for a second.

J – As you should have been before you left those stupid messages.

S – Whatever!!! Why didn’t you call me back man? You saw that I called!

J – I was preoccupied and wasn’t really in the mood to talk.

S – That’s some selfish sh*t man…I was going through something and needed you and you weren’t there, all because you didn’t feel like talking? So what you’re telling me is I can’t depend on you as a friend whenever you’re in a ‘mood’?

J – Shaniquashay, what’s my favourite meat or dessert? Where was I born? Who was I raised by? What’s my major in school? What’s the name of the girl I’m dating right now?

S – Huh?!? What the hell does that have to do with anything? Ummm…I don’t know.

J – Exactly my f---ing point! You don’t even know some basic fundamental sh*t about me and you want to cuss me out and suggest I’m not being a dependable friend or call me selfish?!?

**crickets**

Poor girl was blindsided and had no chance! We argued for a few minutes, exchanged a couple of heated emails back and forth, and didn’t speak for almost 2 years after that conversation.

I had gone above and beyond for her and she wasn’t even my girlfriend or close companion.  It was clear she viewed me a close friend, but the friendship was very one-sided.  I noticed long before that conversation took place and ventured to balance it out by calling to engage about things going on in my life but to no avail.  But when Shaniquashay needed an empathetic ear, I dropped everything to be there for her and yet she had the audacity to suggest I was selfish?!?  This chick didn’t even know I loved lamb or enjoyed carrot cake (those were freebies for you so called ‘friends’…SMH), but I’m the selfish one?  She was too busy monopolizing our time on the phone with her issues to consider asking me something, anything, about the happenings in my life and the moment I take a breather she has the nerve to go off?!?

Fast forward to yesterday when I decided to let a particular frugal and fastidious filly know I wasn’t interested in attending her birthday festivities or maintaining any sort of interaction with her going forward out of a growing frustration that our interaction only ranked second to the most lopsided and one-sided friendship I’ve had with a female in years.  Do you know what this Salemite decided to say?  “Timing is f’ed up. Take care”

Yes, you read that right.  The Salemite sista has no qualms with us parting ways but takes issue with the fact I decided to ‘surprise’ (was she not so self absorbed, she would have realized I fell back weeks prior) her with this revelation the day before her birthday thereby disrupting her celebratory plans.  I almost got real Tyrone on her a-- and went off but stopped short asking two seemlingly irrelevant and unrelated questions. 

Similar to Shaniquashay (let’s call her Lakeshakay¹), Lakeshakay likely has no clue where the questions came from, how they’re related, and hasn’t responded.

In her defense, although I shouldn’t feel compelled to make this statement as an obvious benefit of a blog is to talk about trifling folks without them having the opportunity to defend themselves chronicle your emotions related to a situation from your vantage point (right or wrong it’s your personal perspective), a contributing factor to the demise of the interaction was she was a conquest unconquered.  Call me coo-coo for cocoa puffs for considering a non-coital companionship kosher, but I’d become cool with that given I slowly realized she was failing miserably as a friend so would more than likely fail in any future capactiy as a committed companion.

Low blow? I would say no.  Is that so? Indeed it is because there’s validity in that logic bro! Whoa…see what just happened there?

Wait for it…wait for it…

Bingo!

I’ve had the week off work and wasted most of it being unproductive (which I guess is fine since it was a vacation or at least that’s what I’m telling myself to feel better), but it got me to thinking of other areas of my life I needed to address, and refrain from, wasting my energy/efforts.  First thought?  Friends with no benefits.  No, not the four hundred or so Facebook friends of whom I rarely speak to, but those I spend time with who add no real value to my life.

I found myself feeling a friendship was fundamentally flawed; my solution?  C’est la vie!

Riddle me ridiculous Robin…but maybe it’s my turn to be selfish.

Cheers!

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¹ In order to both preserve the privacy of the individual and to demonstrate (through use of a ridiculous name) how ‘ignant’ I find this person, this is how I will refer to said lady.

² Okay maybe I didn’t do all that but you get the point.