So, I got curved this one time, right…..

I’ve taken a few L’s with #da ladies, in my life.

It happens.

I am now one with the Sauce, so these were just stumbling blocks along the way.

ALONG THE WAY TO GREATNESS.

Walk with me.

My Very First Curve.

Her name was Courtney.

I was in 3rd grade.

It was Valentine’s Day. My birthday. Me and Courtney had afterschool together, so we were upstairs in a classroom, gluing shit together with the other kids. I had the huuuuugest crush on lil Court (or NeeNee). Light skin (THIS IS WHEN I WAS STILL A COLOR STRUCK YOUNG BROTHER….EVERYTHANG YELLA.), big brown eyes, two thick braids wrapped around the back of her head….she was THE ONE. My little 3rd grade heart swore she was gonna be my boo one day. I dont even know what that woulda entailed…holding hands??? Whatever.

Anyway, I made my corn-muffin complected QUEEN a Valentine’s Day card. Glitter, Hearts, The works. I was nervous as shit making it and put all of my effort into this more than likely trash card. She somehow comes up to me and asks me what am I holding. Fear wraps me like my small ass private school cardigan. I try to hide it and turn away…she reaches for it, I get away…she gets a hand on it and….

She reads it.

No emotion on her angelic little face. She basically tells me “its not like that!” then………SHE THROWS THE CARD IN THE GARBAGE.

SPIKED MY SHIT IN THE TRASH! I can still see the card in the trash like it happened yesterday. I think one of the teachers even saw the card and asked her about it. That day is when I learned…Earth is a cold, cold place.

The Two Piece Curve

I had a crush on this girl I went to school with in HS. She was Guyanese. This is relevant.

Guyanese families don’t play that shit, for the most part. You can’t bring Jamal in ya house for dinner. Grandma is not going to feel you on that one.

Nonetheless, I was head over heels for her and she actually liked my funny looking ass too. We spent a lot of time together at lunch, at breakfast, around school. Just all of that cutesy stuff. I was still afraid the cheeks at this point, so I wasn’t gonna escalate it to the #SmashLands. All good.

One day on a school trip, I’m sitting next to her on the bus. My soft ass teen heart was fluttering. We’re talking and she just stops me out of nowhere.

“I can’t bring you home with me.”

It’s because I’m black, as she later explains. Her family just wasn’t partial to an American black kid like myself, or kids of my “ilk”. My mom is Trini/St. Vincentian, but I don’t particularly look it (only to girls who are lying to me and trying to flirt), and I was raised pretty American, outside of my visits to Grandma Lorna’s and Papa’s (my grandfather) house. I was sorta crushed, but I got over it. I let it go. We remained cool. I still liked her. It was what it was.

FAST FORWARD!!! I’m like…22? I get the bright idea to ask her to go to Outback (I secretly have a Kookaburra Wings obsession). She said she would be down. I took my ass out there……..never showed up. Stopped answering her phone and all that. VOICEMAIL AND EVERYTHANG. Bruh.

She just didn’t like my black ass.

The College Party Curve (Pajama Jammy Jam)

I was like…19-20. At my school, the Pajama Jam was THE event. You HAD to be there, no matter how lame you were.

Enter scrawny, young Robby. I put an outlandish amount of thought into my pajama pants-based outfit. I had to be #flee. I had to. I HAD TO KILL THEM.

I hit the party with my roommates, we split up like the savages we were. Lots of girls. A lot of foolishness. A lot of fine black girls grinding on my virginal loins.

But there was ONE….ONE….that I decided I wanted really bad. I don’t even remember why. It was some animal attraction shit. Or I was just a horny sophomore.

I pulled up on her, slid up behind her….she turned around….and time froze.

She looked me in the eyes and let off the most GUTTURAL laugh I have EVER heard.

Right in my silly ass face. Laughed like she saw Rick James grind his feet into that couch for the FIRST TIME.

I just walked away. Defeated. I’m pretty sure I heard that laugh in my nightmares.

The “You Were Almost A Legend” Curve

In high school, one of my homegirls was a lesbian. She was humping the whole school. Things were #lit. Anyway, she had a girl she was messing with, on and off.

This girl evidently saw my pictures on Sconex (basically Facebook for high schoolers who were trying to hump each other) and starts telling my home girl that she….wants me? That I’m handsome? That she’s gay but she’d go straight for me???

THE HELL?

She hits me up personally and expresses this same sentiment directly to me, and I’m pretty flattered. We talk for a long while, I accidentally see her butt in my phone, YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES.

We keep talking over time and she finds out I’m a virgin. She slides it out there that “you could practice on me, if you want”.

SHE WANTED ME TO PRACTICE ON HER “NEVER HAD HETERO SEX” LOVE BOX. PRACTICE. WE TALKING ABOUT……PRACTICE.

Being the young filthball I was, I agreed. She wanted to meet up first, and we set a date. We had never met up to this point but we clearly shared pics. She was an attractive girl.

Pizza date. I was hype. Put on my little ‘fit, threw on my Nike winter jacket, I WAS KILLING THEM, FO’ SHO’.

I get to the spot and she told me she was gonna be a little late. Cool.

Half hour passes. She’s not picking up. Then she’s sending my calls to VM. Hour passes.

She’s not coming, dog. I ate my pepperoni pizza slice, and went outside…AND GOT SOAKED.

I came home and tried to tweet her…SHE BLOCKED ME.

She was not about what was she was talking about, and powerfully curved me and disappeared.

She’s kinda huge in NYC on Twitter now and still has me blocked.

STILL.

STILLLLLLLLLL.

I would have been famous like MJ amongst my friends for that sex that I never got. And I wanted it. BUT ALAS….it was not in the cards.

I tell you that, to say this………..keep on trucking. Rejection is no big deal, success is on the way.

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clark kent.

I was worried all week.

At that time, I was worried most weeks.

Afraid that I’d wake up, and she just wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore. That she’d find someone better. Not that I don’t treat her as well as I can; or treasure her presence like a clear night sky or a warm summer night. But there’s always better. Always.

Afraid that we’d just stop talking over something stupid. Or there would be something about her that I just couldn’t deal with. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because there’s always a shoe. I was so concerned that I was fraying at the edges, making mountains out of molehills. Except this was a little worse; the molehills were purely of my imagination.

So….I pick up my phone and begin to type frantically into IMessage. This is a summary of what I said:

“We’ve been talking a few months, and we’re getting serious, but im not ready to get married soon, even though we aren’t even official yet, and I’m concerned about the marriage thing because I lowkey feel overwhelmed by the fact that you’re a little older than me and so focused, yet, I’m younger and a fucking mess(P.S. I’m not admitting this last sentence until after the fact).”

The actual message read like the ramblings of a madman. She’s asking me “What are you saying?”. I’m explaining. It’s hitting me….I have no idea what I’m saying. She keeps working with me, even though I’m clearly losing my mind and don’t know what point I’m even attempting to make. Her response, amongst other things, is why she is very, very special to me. (more paraphrasing)

“We are hypothetical, it could all end out of nowhere. I don’t want it to, but I don’t worry about what’s next. Of course, I’ve thought about how you might ask me to be your girlfriend one day, but I don’t dwell on it. I just try to enjoy what we have. I also haven’t really thought about marriage, thats years away. I’m not ready for that either!”

Relief. I felt relief. But through that entire text conversation, I felt myself getting more and more upset. Not because of her or anything like that; but because of something going on internally. Around the middle of the conversation, I was blinking back tears and admitting that I felt so stressed and out of sorts because….I’ve really never gotten to this point with a girl I really liked.

I didn’t know what to do. There was no bullshit between us; all of our times are good. In the absence of negative energy, or me being pissed, or her doing some ridiculous shit…I filled it with worry. I was afraid. Afraid this would go how it usually goes; things go well and then things just go to shit. I’d like to say I’ve become numb to it; I have not.

Regardless, here I was, destroying a good thing for absolutely no reason. I called her later that night because when you text someone a shower of emotion, its the LEAST you could do. I also had to do something else I’m not familiar with: talk her out of rinsing her hands of me.

We planned to go on a date that weekend and she texted me (the same night of this discussion) that maybe we shouldn’t see each other that weekend because “maybe you need to figure things out”.

Ok. Full disclosure: I was begging like fucking Keith Sweat. NEVER IN MY LIFE, HAVE I DONE THIS. Girls do not cut me off, ever. It legitimately happened ONCE, my entire life. Either we just agree to go our separate ways or I end it. If a girl wants to go, I accept it, I keep sliding. She wanted to allow me time to sit down and all I saw was “this shit OVER, ROBBY!”. I couldn’t allow that to happen. Her reasoning behind canceling was due to her feeling that I was insincere about wanting to be around her, and I understand why.

My original text message was the type of shit guys say to girls when they want to create some distance. I didn’t want distance. I wanted clarity on my own made up concerns. Only I had the answers.

To bring things up to speed, I’m still working through the paranoia from my past, and pouring myself into my current situation. I never believed I was self destructive, but I clearly have the traits. I will work through my shortcomings, because she is important enough to me that I will address them. Life provides you with plenty of good things, but to squander them because of your own fears is paying the universe a disservice.

How To Get Over It.

 

A few days ago, I was on a roof, talking to someone I really look up to and respect from a music journalism standpoint. I’ve been involved in the music industry to some extent since I was about 22, and it has been a wild ride. Anyway, I had the bright idea to bring up a writer (she does more than that too) that we mutually know. He says “Oh yeah I know her!” and I calmly let off ….

“She doesn’t fuck with me, at all.”

I felt the slight tinge of anger in my voice when I said it….and I noticed something.

I’m still pissed off.

 

We used to date. This much should be obvious by now. We used to date for a WHILE. On and off. “You’re great” one day, “fuck, I really hate you” the next. I didn’t really know what I was angry about, but I took a little time during the aforementioned conversation and on the train ride home to figure it out.

I was mostly upset with myself.

We have been done since May; when I say “done” I mean, we literally don’t speak. I bought that situation back into life(during one of our multiple stretches of not being cool), knowing it was the absolutely wrong decision to make. The reason it wasn’t a good idea….well, I may not have enough time to explain. To put it plainly, constantly breathing life into a corpse of a situation like the one we had, was top 5 stupid. We are a solid fit on a certain level, but our difference in ideologies/completely contrasting life experiences lead to resentment. Add in the leftover anger from our constant splits and long gaps of not speaking, and of course it’s a mess.

But knowing all that, I still did it. I still visited. I still gave her a weekend of my time. Predictably, it didn’t go too well. I was super lonely and kind of bewildered by life; I grabbed for what I knew, for what I could trust. I didn’t really tell my friends what I was doing because I knew they would scold me, and I wasn’t trying to hear that shit. In just about every friend circle I have, I am the one who makes the rational, well thought out decision. Yet, here I am, messing with my former fellow intern who really doesn’t even like me anymore. All because I wanted to be comforted and be amongst something familiar to me. But don’t get me wrong; she definitely held me down and kept me focused when a lot of other people wouldn’t, or couldn’t. So I also felt…indebted in a way.

I was there for 3 nights and 2 days. So I’m trying to spend time with her and….she kinda doesn’t care. I passed on a party back home to come out here for her. I told her “yeah I moved some plans around a little to come out”…..she turned, looked me in the eye and said….

“Don’t change your plans for me.”

This was after asking em to come see her for MONTHS. I get it though; she got to the point of no longer caring; she had to wait too long.

That was it. No “thanks for doing that”, no fake concern, nothing. Just “don’t do it”. I was taken aback and I kind of started to scramble to save face/find out why she felt that way, but that was a waste. Nothing to explain. She no longer feels you like that, and you probably should’ve stayed in NYC. But that was early on in the trip; I was in for the long haul now.

I went to my friend’s birthday celebration that afternoon. It was fantastic; I got to see my dude happy, it felt like undergrad again. I was on a roof, my shirt was inappropriately buttoned , I drank Ciroc out of a bottle for some reason, I had too much pineapple and rum; wins all around. Except………me and the girl in question were supposed to go to the movies after this party. I told her I wouldn’t be too drunk when she came to get me.

I stepped outside, I couldn’t even see the street, let alone her car. All I remember is throwing up out of the passenger side A LOT, her stopping at a gas station, then me barely taking my clothes off and going to sleep. I also vividly remember saying “I’m sorry” until I felt stupid. I was super embarrassed.

I go out, I get drunk, I am somewhat of a hooligan. But I rarely, RARELY throw up. I also don’t get belligerent and ridiculous very often. I was all of the above, and I hated myself for it. Since I NEVER do this, especially when I made a promise concerning a later engagement…..something was amiss. Looking back, I think I was really stressed about “our” situation and subconsciously tried to drink it away. What we needed wasn’t another date; we needed to stop this shit for the both of us. I also DEFINITELY planned to have sex that night, but no one is climbing on me with vomit breath and a dirty ass shirt. I was also, too drunk to have sex. I’ve literally been too drunk for sex TWICE in my life, this being the second time. If I can breathe, I’m going to put it in there. Not the case that night, and I’m sort of glad it went that way. Sexual contact only would’ve worsened what was already a mess.

The next day was awkward. We ate. We watched movies. We argued about some super stupid shit that she offended me with. I got on that bus home and knew it was over. I felt a little sad because clearly, I cared to some level (and it ended so abruptly and terribly). But I felt more of a relief, because I knew I was in the wrong place, with the wrong person. A few days into that next week, I was at peace with it. Well really, mostly at peace. Her name being bought up this weekend allowed me to finally forgive myself for whatever strife I put her and (REALLY) myself through. Life has looked up since, and I am thankful for that.

Hitched, Part 2.

****Read this first.*****

    Over time, I started to notice…things. Well, just one thing. Whenever there were other girls around us, she acted “off”. I remember it clearly; when we were walking to go eat on campus, a girl from one of my org’s stopped me. We exchanged small talk, regular chatter. I guess this went on a little longer than she liked: She just walked away and left me. All I got was an “I’ll meet you there”. I wanted to introduce them to each other but she hung back so far when saw her, I couldn’t even tell where she was standing in the crowded student center. To be totally clear, I had a crush on that girl that stopped me at a point. My current situation really dissolved my interest in even going down that road. Maybe she “felt” something. Either way, I started to feel that we might be in trouble.

   My 22nd birthday came up. My 21st birthday was a mess, so I promised myself I would make my next one memorable. Me and my roommates brainstormed and we decided to have a party. We had liquor, I let the people know; no way this would turn out wack. I told “her” about it and she never really sounded too thrilled. I kept bringing it up, hoping she’d see how badly I wanted her to show up. Hours before the party, she said “I’m sure there will be more than enough girls at the party, you don’t need me to come”. I was sick over this. How could someone so important to me see her presence as disposable? She was always uncomfortable with my popularity(ugh, my friends were way more well known) at school , and that comment sent it home.

    The party went down. It was a success. I nearly got into a fight, plenty of girls came and it closed with the cops trying to arrest me (A+!). Seriously, it was a good time. With that said, I had a strange little moment there. My VERY first college boo(“A”) and her best friend (“K”) came. This is no big deal, as we were cool and put the past behind us (lol oh pls). They came through fly as usual, danced, drank, enjoyed. Once A walked away, me and K were talking. She out of nowhere murmurs to me…

“If you and B didn’t date……”

    She looked me in the eye and I knew what she was trying to infer. Ive known her forever. She’s been (and still is) an attractive woman. However, I didn’t hesitate. I defused that immediately and moved on with my night. I was very serious about whatever it was me and “her” had, even when it was on the rocks. My feelings and heart were tied up and I really just wanted to put my energy towards that.

    A few days later, she texts me back again. She tells me she doesn’t wanna come chill, doesn’t want anything to do with me, all that. I’m pretty much being dumped via text, and I don’t even know what I did. I’m not taking it well but my ego prevents me from chasing down the “why” of situations like these. If you want to let me go, cool. I won’t beg you, I won’t play myself. I simply asked her what lead to this and she once again bought up my popularity and how that was too much for her. I responded back calmly, accepting things for what they were. In the ensuing days, she continues to hit me up and make me feel stupid about the whole thing. How I shouldn’t have liked her so much. How I made it all into something it wasn’t, how all of our time didn’t really mean much. It was bizarre, because I wasn’t chasing her after she dumped me. She just kept coming back to me and killing me with the same knife. Me, in my state of need for her, kept responding until I simply was too bothered by all of it.

      I was totally fucked up over this. Non of my friends knew how serious it was for me, or that we even split. My roommate asked me “whatever happened to….” and to this day, I don’t know how I didn’t get out of that conversation without embarrassing myself.  Partner this bad heartbreak with the melancholy feeling of a pending graduation, trying to enjoy myself before it’s all over, and the incredible amount of violence going on at my school (guy got killed and his body was in the street a block away; on a separate incident a kid got stabbed up in the parking lot right outside of my window), I was stressed about everything. I’ve never really admitted this, but I honestly felt like I was going to get killed my senior year. I ended up adopting some beefs because of my loyalty AND a lot of students were ending up in crazy situations with locals after parties.

       I don’t really know how I decided to stop sulking. I do know that I found solace in my coworker’s bed sheets. We worked together on campus and I kinda knew she always liked me. I was sorta on the fence but as we got to know each other I warmed up to the idea a little more. She was cute; dark skin, big smile, infectious laugh. We hung out at the office, we talked on campus, worked on projects together. As fate would have it, she happened to live in my building. I saw her in the hallway while I was washing clothes, so I texted her when I was almost done. I ended up walking into her apartment and next thing you know, our lips meet. We didn’t have sex until maybe a few weeks later. Once we started, we didn’t stop. She was in an ODU office with me, amongst very important people, and no one knew what we did behind closed doors. There was a certain forbidden air to it. This went on until about a week before I graduated, when she disappeared quietly back home to northern Virginia.

     There was also someone else, who is memorable because she was a big “first” for me. She was at my apartment for a kick back. I was doing my homework; I wanted no parts. Me being involved would’ve thrown the ratio off. Nevertheless, I’ve known her for a few years but we’ve just been cool. I noticed that she kept walking by my door and peeking in. She eventually comes in and one of the guys (who I know WELL) pulled her off of me and out of my room. He had a huge (unrequited) crush on her, and I knew this. Never one to lose his cool in this situation, when she came by again, I took her by the hand and walked her into my room. She giggled and walked in curiously.

        I’m just running my fingers over her, admiring her form. She was sort of defined , smooth light skin and had an edge to her voice. She reveals to me “I’ve always liked you and thought you were cute, why didn’t you say anything?” BULLSHIT DETECTOR WEEEE OOO WEEEEE OOOOOOOO. I could’ve just been overcome with modesty, but I still think she was lying. How did I answer? With a lie of my own. “I’ve liked you for a while too!” First and last girl I ever lied to. It was pre-sex bullshit; going through the motions to make each other comfortable with things that aren’t true. I never subscribed to that again. Regardless, she chose to link up after Spring Break (which was next week) instead of doing anything that night.

   Our night came to pass. She came at 6 am, and slid into my building silently. I didn’t sleep, I just stayed up and waited for her. She hands me this, I take ONE swig, she is in my bed. It goes down from there, as Spongebob Squarepants plays far too loudly from my bulky silver TV. The next morning, I kept the lie train going and told her I had study hall. The truth was I didn’t want her in my spot all day. I eventually felt like shit about the pointless lies and vowed to never do it again. I also considered telling dude who pulled her out of the room what happened, because I wanted him to suffer. But I didn’t. So he may be reading this and just found out. If so, yes, her. 🙂 !

    The final part of my story that connects back to Hitch is simple. He approached women and all that they have to offer as “catching up on lost time”.  In reality, he was trying to cover up the pain of finding his girl in the rain with the resident cool guy on campus. She basically left me for her ex, then a FOOTBALL PLAYER. So she hated my popularity, then went to an athlete. Yep. I finally decided to entertain girls who I knew were interested in me, because I was fucked up. I was trying to patch the holes in my boat with lust. It never worked. Those girls didn’t particularly give a shit about me; they just liked what I projected. One of those girls I mentioned actually told me in bed “You were cute on that (ORG REDACTED) poster around campus, I had to have you”. It was never about me, just like it was never about them. I wanted to feel alive, after feeling as if I was literally dead on my feet. Casual sex is fine; just know that it doesn’t heal your pain. The emotional rawness of being discarded by someone who literally illuminates your days to girls who keep your nights shrouded in darkness is a lot for any 22 year old, especially one with a lot on his plate.

  I had to mature. I had to live. I had to understand that just wanting to have sex is fine, and so is wanting to put your all into a woman who’s special to you. Even though my clear blue sky turned gray, I didn’t want to be afraid the next time the sunlight chose me. With knowledge that it all ended so badly, I thank her for it. The highs, the lows, the jagged separation. My experience taught me to value myself and to appreciate the love in every waking day. Even the cold, lonely ones.

Archery

I was on the dollar van a few nights ago. It was cold. It was late. The Ave had that weird , sorta unsettling energy that it usually does. Im scrunched up tightly in a corner , simply wanting to get the hell outta there.

“Q FIVE…………Q FIVE!…YES MISS..Q FIVE!” yelled the dude in front of me . as he shuffled in one more passenger into this nearly filled van. My thought? “hurry up and get ya ugly ass in this van”. Let’s pause here. Late at night when I’m tired?? I’m a grumpy bitch. If I’m not doing something fun (imagine fun things) and its late.. I just wanna go to sleep.

Back to the story. So I’m staring out into the night at her and I’m WILD annoyed (god I’m such a dick.). She gets in and I see her face in the light and I go “wait….she’s beautiful.”. Puffy cheeks. Long honey brown locs. Inviting but very focused gaze. I’m temporarily……..smitten? Not my style at all. My annoyance totally relieves for a few secs and I quickly put her out of mind.

As the ride goes on , it hits me that the moment is perfect. I’m headed home , I’m warm , the van driver isn’t trying to kill us. Fantastic. It’s been a rough (few weeks) month. The stress of a break up. The excitement and promise of a new internship. Career stress. All of the re-aligning and new mindset required for all of that. I think through all that’s occurred recently , I’ve seen the beauty in things I usually wouldn’t. I live very “quickly”. I’m always rushing and pushing. I always feel pressed for the time. Being forced to make drastic changes to how I spend my time has made me look at myself and decide what matters and what do I want to put time towards.

And I’d like to put time towards never riding a dollar van again. And scoring a chick with locs. YEAH.