I saw a picture of someone I used to be crazy about on Facebook today. He was with another woman. She was small and petite, and (this is important, and you’ll see why in a moment) brown-skinned like me. He looked…a bit less rough than the last time I saw him. Almost like he used to when I was into him.
(And what do I mean by into him? In love? lust? infatuation? obsession? <—- more like all of the above)
I would not trade one second of my single life as an adult to have had those desires realized. When I look back at that time of my life, I feel like I was a child who kept trying to put on a favorite piece of clothing that they’ve outgrown. It just don’t work, and I’m glad that he and I just didn’t work out either.
I would like to see him again, preferably with one of the fabulous men that I’ve met over this summer on my arm. Even if that was not so, I’d still like to see him again and prove to him (and myself) that I’m much happier without him as a constant fixture in my life (we grew up together, and I had to see him constantly every week for 8 years).
The man I’m talking about is Chaldean, and proud of it. Historically (I don’t know if this is just amongst Chaldeans here in America or in all of their communities) they don’t date or marry Black women.
The fact that he’s willing to be seen with one has changed my ideas of why we did not happen. All of this time, I thought that he was a bigot; now I know that it was just me.
It’s always just me in these kind of situations, and it will always be “just me”.