Love Lessons, page 2
I’m an introvert by nature. A creative mind who prefers fantasies, daydreams, books, movies, and music. I love to tell stories, so I write. My journals are where I can not only tell the unadulterated truth about the goings on in my life, but I record poems, stories, and turn random thoughts into prose. To be able to share my experiences and make them sound as if they belong on the screen brings me great joy. Dance has also been a creative outlet for me. When my brain gets so bogged down that I can’t write, music and dance are my go-to methods to remove the blocks. Any way for me to escape the pressures of my day to day is my jam. What’s interesting is that I didn’t always act like an introverted creative who favored solitude over being the center of attention. Once upon a time I had a very active social life with a plethora of experiences. I felt the most free doing things that I enjoyed, or the things that I decided fit me and my life instead of what my parents told me to do.
As I reminisce on the highs and lows, bumps and bruises, losses and successes I have experienced, I can’t help but notice the changes in myself. I remember a time when I felt extremely confident. I felt like I could do whatever I set my mind to. In hindsight, I can recall that even with such confidence, underneath it was still a level of uncertainty and insecurity. It was as if there were two of me.
So how did that happen? Where did the lack of assuredness begin? I was unrecognizable at times and desperately wanted to change that. I need to discover the true Tabitha. I no longer want my representative to show up. I no longer want to reserve my true self for moments of guaranteed acceptance. There was no such thing.
Sophomore year in college is when I started realize who I really was. It was a struggle to admit that to myself. I was about 31 when I accepted that realization. Now here I am, at 35 trying to merge acceptance with action more consistently. I started going to therapy when I asked myself, “How do I live day to day as who I understand myself to be? How do I go through life being unapologetically Tabitha?” Those are hard questions to answer. It’s almost as hard as coming the realization in the first place.
The simple idea of it is that I have to abandon the cares of other people’s judgement. I have to remind myself regularly that I can no longer waste energy worrying about what someone may say about me because people are going talk regardless. This is a hard pill to swallow for me because I’ve lived the majority of my life trying to please other people. People pleasing has caused me to be indecisive about many things. I spent so much of my life stifling my voice.
In starting to uncover the mysteries of Tabitha, I unearth more questions. I examine all aspects of my life and ask myself, Why do I do this? Why did I do that? Who taught me this? Why am I holding on to that? I shine a light in the shadows, expose the lies and embrace the truths. So here in my paradise, my focus is on the lessons I can learn from past relationships and interactions so that I can examine the role I played.
One thing that I learned in therapy is that sometimes, the only way to get to the desired result is to sit in the mess. I need to explore patterns of my past in order to shape my future in the most informed way. Dr. Drea had provided some prompts for direction as I uncover things I have ignored. Some call it shadow work, some simply call it healing old wounds. No matter the phrase or term, it’s about to get real. Dr. Drea had asked me where I would start, I suppose high school is as good a place as any. So here at my family’s beach house, with old journals at my feet, I begin my work.
I look at my reflection in the water, waiting for the sun to set. Sunsets in paradise make everything better. They are the best part of coming here. Seeing the sky turn a mix of pink, orange, and blue with a tinge of purple makes me wish I had my camera to capture the beauty. The song switches to “In a Sentimental Mood” and I am immediately transported back to high school. Back when Love Jones became everyone’s favorite movie and when finger snaps during poetry slams was the preferred method to show appreciation. Maybe this particular song is a sign that I need to get on with this retrospective study of love.
Lesson 3: Tim & DeAndre’
I was sixteen when I lost my virginity. It was quite an interesting and eventful day, but aside from the fact that I was no longer a virgin, it was nothing to brag about. See, one day before school, I gave up the goods to a guy that I didn’t really know or even like. I felt the peer pressure of Keisha, a so called friend I met in Spanish class during the first week of tenth grade.
“You’re still a virgin?” she laughed. I made the admission naively thinking that I wasn’t uncommon in that. I didn’t understand what was so damn funny. She must have noticed the perplexed look and the subsequent resting bitch face that overtook me as she composed herself, because she continued, “Most girls have lost their virginity before now, Tabitha. Ain’t nothing wrong with you, it’s just not the norm, ya know.”
No I didn’t know. I hadn’t thought about what sex would be like before this conversation. I didn’t think of boys in that way. I mean, I took notice of a cute guy, but that was about it. I began to wonder if other girls thought like Keisha. Was I delayed? Was I supposed to be thinking of boys and sex? My thoughts were interrupted, “Girl, you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied.
“Whachu thinking?”
“Nothing at all, Keisha,” I lied again.
“Do you know Tim? The guy that drive that blue box Chevy.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yes you do. He bought your lunch the other day.”
“Oh yeah, Tim.” There wasn’t much remarkable about him except that he paid for my nachos and had a car. I don’t think I knew his name until Keisha said it.
“I think he like you,” Keisha said, picking at her cuticle. “He gotta wait in line though 'cause I already told my cousin about you.”
“What did you tell your cousin?”
“That I had a friend in school that’s cute with a Halle Berry haircut. He like girls that get they hair done.”
I was confused. I didn’t know what she was getting at, but I was curious. “What’s his name?”
“DeAndre. He go to Magnolia High and play football. A lot of girls like him at his school.”
“Ok, and what did you tell him about me?”
“That I had a cute friend that I could hook him up with. He said, ‘what she look like’ and I showed him your picture and he said ‘bet,’ that’s about it. His coach 'bout to move him to the starting lineup because he so good. All the cheerleaders want him, but he don’t really be liking cheerleaders."
None of that mattered to me, but maybe it should. My mind was not on boys the way Keisha seemed to think of them. There must be a reason she was telling me all of this. I got up to go to my next class, “I’ll see ya later, Keisha.”
“Later!”
I went the rest of the day wondering what else I was behind on. I had an open mouth kiss the summer before seventh grade, but that was the extent of my physical contact with the opposite sex. I wondered if I were maturing properly. My parents didn’t give me “The Talk” and I imagined they preferred to avoid it as long as possible. The remainder of the day zipped by. I didn’t remember much of it because I was lost in my head. Instinctively, I walked out of the door of my last class as soon as the bell sounded. Still in my head, I didn’t even stop at my locker and just headed for the bus line. I heard my name as I walked to my bus. I turned to see Tim and figured that Keisha must have said something to him. Shit I thought.
“Hey you,” he said as he caught up to me. I kept walking. “I’ve been looking for you all day. Didn’t see you at lunch. I was hoping to get you more nachos.”
“Nah, I can’t eat nachos too often, that meat on there don’t always look too good. What’s up?”
“Want a ride home?”
Damn that was forward, I thought. “No thank you, I’m good with the bus.”
“Well can I have your number? Maybe we can ride together one day.”
Disinterested and reluctantly, I agreed.
I gave Tim my number knowing that I didn’t like him. I didn’t want to feel left out anymore. And more than that, I wanted him to leave me alone.
Tim called me twice a day for a week. The calls lasted a cumulative twenty-six minutes. My lack of interest wouldn’t allow me to stay on the phone with him for longer than two to three minutes at a time. At school, he insisted on walking me to class. If it were possible to accidentally end up in a relationship, I imagine this would be how it’d happen. He bought me nachos one day at lunch without me asking. He did tell them to hold the meat, so maybe he listened to what I said. I had to tell him that I had already eaten. This was all becoming more than I wanted to deal with, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t tell Tim that, so I continued along.
One afternoon, Tim asked if he could take me to school the next day. In this week that he had been sweating me, he hadn’t bothered again to offer me a ride from school, let alone to school. I agreed and told him that he could come pick me up tomorrow. On some level, I suppose I was hoping that he would forget. He didn’t. He showed up at my house an hour before we needed to be at school.
“Why you so early,” I asked, opening the door.
“I uh ... I don’t want us to be late.”
“It won’t take an hour to get there,” I said.
“Can I come in?”
I let him in and before I knew what was happening, I gave it up to Tim, a guy I didn’t really like, before school one random Thursday, and it was terrible.
There was a little pain at the initial insertion and then a bunch of humping movements, grunting, and the occasional sweat droplet in my face. It was disgusting. Neither of us were completely naked. I didn’t like him enough to really show my body. Maybe he was ashamed of his. If he wasn’t, he probably should have been with his inverted nipples and hairy chest that resembled the meat on the nachos they serve in the cafeteria at school. It was bad and I didn’t even know what bad sex was. I was ashamed and disappointed. I didn’t want him to drive me to school afterwards. I didn’t know how I would get to school or if I would get there in time to make first period, but I refused to show up with Tim.
At the completion of the longest two minutes of my life, I didn’t even care much. I just wanted him to leave. There was nothing romantic about it. Nothing like in the movies. There wasn’t any kissing, I avoided the opportunity. There was no caressing or gazing into each other’s eyes, I didn’t want to look at him. We only exposed the parts necessary to get the job done. I was so distracted with dodging sweat drops that I don’t recall what the sex felt like. I declined a second offer to drive me to school.
“So you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I nearly gagged. I smiled and averted my eyes, “No you didn’t.”
“Did you cum?”
Did I what? I thought, Cum? I didn’t even know what he was asking, “No,” I answered.
“Oh well, I got you next time. Later.” He finally left and I was relieved.
He actually thought we would do this again. Little did he know, I had absolutely no intention of ever speaking to him again. In fact, before I began to frantically figure out how I would get to school, I had already decided that I would go on about my life as if it never happened. And for all intents and purposes, I was still a virgin. For the rest of the day, my mantra was, I AM A VIRGIN. Virgin. If I said it enough, maybe it’ll be so. Virgin! Now let me get my virgin ass to school.
I called my uncle, lied about missing the bus and asked him to take me to school. With no questions asked, he was there right away. I missed first period, but I got there just in time to make it to second period Spanish class. The very class I had with Keisha. No hello, no pleasantries, just a directive: “Ride the bus with me after school, DeAndre wanna meet you.”
Keisha was up to no good. She knew that I was a “virgin” and it seemed she had a plan for me. I didn’t want any parts of her ideas, especially after the morning I had. Sex was terrible and I was cool to never do it again. I went on about my day, trying not to think about the disappointment of this morning. I was so happy that I didn’t have any classes with Tim.
I walked out of seventh period Science class and saw Keisha standing against the lockers. She was relentless about my joining her on the bus after school. Again, I didn’t decline. As we walked to her bus, instead of me walking to my own, she tells me more about her cousin. I was dragging, not wanting to go and for some reason I wouldn’t tell her that.
“He’s dark with wavy hair. He plays basketball and football at his school and he thinks you’re cute.” The best part about what she said about her cousin was that he went to a different school. I couldn’t fathom dodging two guys at the same place. It didn’t dawn on me right away that she said that he thought I was cute. This must have been in the works since she first told me about DeAndre. She likely had been trying to get us to meet up since she discovered that I was untouched. She had showed him a picture I took at Sears Portrait Studio over the summer, right after I cut my hair. I then understood why she asked to borrow the picture.
The bus ride to her neighborhood was very different than the ride I took every day. Dilapidated houses lined the streets, junk cars rusted away in front yards, killing the grass. Keisha and I were definitely from different worlds, so why was I following her lead? The bus slowed to a stop.
“This is us,” Keisha said as she got up and grabbed my hand to exit the bus.
I noticed a car parked out front of the house that Keisha was headed toward. Two guys leaned on the hood: one was just as she described, very good looking.
Keisha introduced us and the compliments began. DeAndre was very flirtatious. He licked his lips a lot. I suppose that was meant to be sexy. He asked me a lot of questions about myself. Some of which I didn’t know how to answer.
The guys had a bag of snacks that they sat on the coffee table upon entering the quaint house. Keisha’s house smelled funny. It was like a mix of moth balls and cooked food, but not freshly cooked food. The couch was covered in plastic and made a lot of noise when we sat down.
I was handed Doritos and a strawberry kiwi Snapple and DeAndre was back at it with the compliments. He touched my knee and I knew what would come later. I should have called my uncle, but was so consumed with thoughts of being judged if I left. I felt stuck. Obligated to follow through with a plan I was not involved with making. DeAndre stood, grabbed my hand and whispered, “Let’s give them the room.”
I hadn’t even noticed Keisha and the other guy kissing as if DeAndre and I had already disappeared. We left the living room, allowing the couple to sloppily kiss in private. The sight turned my stomach. I remembered the first time I kissed a boy with tongue. It felt weird and I didn’t know what to do. What Keisha and that other guy were doing didn’t look pleasurable at all.
The only other available rooms contained beds, a toilet or an oven. I let him lead me to a bedroom and for the second time that day, I got into bed with a guy I barely knew. The best part about this encounter, compared to the first, was that DeAndre didn’t look too bad naked and there was no sweat dripping down on my face. There was again a slight discomfort, a lot of humping, groaning, cussing, and a relieved collapse. I remember thinking that it was a good thing we went to different schools because I had no intentions of speaking with him again either.
So the sad reality is that on the day I lost my virginity, I had sex with two different guys. They were equally terrible and equally avoidable. The most interesting part of all of this is that, the story of how I became un-virginized did not bother me, I fully intended to continue on about my life as if none of it ever occurred. In my mind and by my portrayal of things, I was still a virgin, pure as snow. I had, however, arrived to the conclusion that I was lied to about sex. The movies were a big lie. My non-virgin friends were big liars. Sex was terrible no matter who you did it with. No matter how cute the guy was, it would be bad. And I was in no certain rush to do it again.
Looking back on all of this, the part that bothers me now is the fact that I felt an obligation to have sex to begin with. It was as if I couldn’t say no. I felt that both times, I was past the point of no return. Where was my voice? Why didn’t I go with my first thought and call my uncle to pick me up instead of having sex with DeAndre? Why did I allow people I barely knew make plans about my body without objection?
Sitting with those questions for a few days, I write my thoughts in my journal. I call to confirm my appointment with Dr. Drea so I can process this. I want to unpack this first encounter with sex and physical intimacy and discover how that impacts my current view of men and my perception of love.
Lesson 4: Calvin
At the ending of my high school days, I met Calvin. He was fine. Christopher Williams fine, if you like the fair skin, curly hair types. As for me, those qualities caught my attention. I never really had a type, I just like what I like. With Calvin, it was his style. His style screamed that he belonged on the East Coast. He listened to Wu Tang Clan and wore Timberland boots year round. He was humble, as if he didn’t realize how fine or talented he actually was.
Calvin was a star athlete at his school, playing football and baseball, with ambitions to obtain a scholarship for one of the sports to fund his college education. The athletic scholarships would only be a means to get to college without his parents paying for it. His goal was to become a physician of sports medicine.
