Man on the Street

Sometimes I make mistakes and I feel so amazing. One day I went to visit a man that I called a boyfriend. I have a salt and pepper type. I was at this point of forgiveness in our relationship. He didn’t have, much in the beginning and looked worried a lot. I knew but I wanted him to know that even in his time of need he was still worthy of happiness, however, I was struggling too, He needed a place to find a job and I offered him the time to do that. The Internet is hard to find but sometimes easier if it is unlimited. He was an artist like me and wanted a graphic job so I punched up his resume and made it digital as well as helped him find some leads for what he was seeking. He knew that he could get a job as a substitute teacher and I knew that some schools offered you a quieter positioning than others so I suggested schools near him that would give him an easier day. Now the question is asked, “What did he do for me?” Not much in the way of moving me forward. I stayed with him and before I moved back to Texas and he caused me more stress. He wasn’t in the relationship because he knew I was leaving, he was on the hunt to find his new “boo” so that he could be ready for her when I sat sail and was on my merry little way. For him, to hear my words that day in the street, The words that he could never understand because he himself was so broken and ready to make a fool of me for reasons I feel are unknown. I was outraged at his treatment and I shouted high as I dragged my child through crowds of people and made a true spectacle of myself. I guess some might have found this embarrassing or degrading, but for me, it may have been a release. See I have tried to love black men in this lifetime and I still do, but I guess I have to rephrase that, I have tried to love broken men back to a safe place like they were students that are sitting in a desk in my classroom and I am unable to love them back to a safe place. Men want something else or something more than what they are unable to give. To reach out and give love and not receive it back has to be heartbreaking and some may think you can be left bitter, however, I have loved the wrong men before and have forgotten how to love the right men. It is like they forget that black women have blessed them with their presence and have offered them a luster that most men want to add to their shine. It is as if black women are lepers that have been diseased with all their thoughts of sorrow or nothing good to hold onto. When in life we sometimes want nothing more than to hold onto them. The touch vanishes and on the midst of reaching out to someone else that shows and gives us an appreciation, then the anger is manifested and the jealousy shown in a way that creates this blockage of what love should be and how it should dwell. No matter how hard it all remains contained to become nothing because he will not let it dwell. Aretha Franklin’s “Ain’t No Way” led me to this sad conclusion early, my stepfather tried to forbid us from singing the words that we learned anyway. There is no way for a woman to love you if you will not let her. Why should my motives be questioned when his movements were never there? Why should my heart be embarrassed to love in this lifetime, when it is all a part of being human. Why should I have bitterness when I am free enough to express who I am and what I love and how that love helps me?