Love Lessons, page 5
Fast forward to December, I shared with Troy a few details of the tough time I was having with my relationship and he backed off a bit, saying he wanted to be respectful, but also let me know that he was available if I needed him.
I took a break from happy hour with the crew. I stopped going to the parties and social gatherings on campus. I was horrible with returning calls and responding to messages. I wondered if that was what major depression felt like.
One day, Shavonne gave me the most wonderful pep talk that included a few threats to harm others, but more importantly, encouragement.
Her exact words were: “Call Troy and see what’s up with him. Y’all definitely had a connection and you were up front with him, maybe he was standing by as you hoped. It’s only been a few weeks.”
I smiled at her and asked, “Will you go to the New Year’s Eve Party with me?”
The party was an annual event hosted by Troy’s fraternity and he was sure to be there. Shavonne agreed. We got all fancy and dolled up and agreed to meet Chaz there.
Coincidentally, Troy was at the door taking money and tickets. I was relieved to see his big dimpled smile and all but melted in his arms when he hugged me ever so tightly. He whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry to hear about the breakup. I know what you were trying to do and I hate that you were hurt in the process.”
I wanted to tell him that I should have made my desires known. I wanted to tell Troy that I wanted him all along. That we should be in love right now.
I didn’t. I simply said, “Thank you.”
Me and my girls entered the party at exactly 11:45pm. I had no New Year’s resolutions, I didn’t resolve to be better or do better, I just wanted that crappy year over with.
Troy entered the room with two glasses of champagne and offered me one. Drink number one for me. I didn’t really like the taste of champagne, but I enjoyed the tickle of the bubbles. We began to count down, Troy still at my side.
I felt the urge to take the midnight moment to kiss him. We had never kissed before.
“10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1 ... Happy New Year!” everyone shouted.
I looked at Troy, who was already looking at me. We gave each other simple smiles, dimples visible.
He leaned in and kissed me. In that moment, no one else was there. I had waited months for that kiss and it was more than I imagined.
It started light and slow. A peck and a pull back so that Troy could check my reaction. His hands cupped my face. I smiled and closed my eyes, signaling for him to continue. He did. Another peck.
I parted my lips as if to invite his tongue in. He obliged. Our tongues danced to the sound of the band playing “Auld Lang Syne.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.
I allowed the sweet kisses to float the memory of Troy’s chiseled body sleeping on my sofa. I remembered the very nice penis print showing through his gray sweatpants. My heart fluttered at the thought of us laughing and whispering in each other’s ears at Happy Hour. Several months of interactions had led to this moment. I was in disbelief, thinking, I’m actually kissing Troy, for what seemed like the entire 55 seconds of that traditional New Year’s song.
At the conclusion of the most passionate kiss I had experienced in a while, Troy looked me square in the eyes and said, “You know if we ever had children, there’s a high probability that they would have dimples.”
I chuckled and that broke the slight awkwardness that loomed as we both realized that we had the longest New Year’s kiss and people had started to stare. It was a perfect night and I was so happy I went.
Two days later, Troy showed up at my door unannounced. I was slightly appalled because I’ve never particularly liked pop-up visits.
“I’m so sorry to show up like this,” He apologized, “I tried calling, but when you never answered, I became worried.”
My irritation dissipated and things made so much more sense regarding why my phone had been so dry for the last couple of days.
I invited him in and offered him a refreshment of the charcuterie board I had made that morning.
“I’ve been thinking the last couple of days about how we brought in the new year. I hoped that I didn’t mess anything up between us with the kiss, but it was something I had been wanting to do for a long while,” Troy said, “I must admit that I feel guilty and selfish. I had no right to kiss you that way.”
I was confused, but he continued.
“I spent much of our time together content in waiting for you to realize that I was the man for you. That I was the man you should be with. So many times I wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t have been waiting on any man.”
Complete and utter shock. I was afraid to speak because I didn’t want to interrupt his flow. My stomach filled with butterfly flutters again.
“There were so many times that I wanted to ask you to forget about dude. I wanted to move our relationship out of the friend zone.” Troy played with his hands and averted his eyes. I was starting to worry now about where he was going with his admissions. “After a while, I got tired of my boys giving me grief, so I let it go.” He looked back at me quickly with a sly smile, no dimple, then back at his hands. “So after letting go, I met another woman and now I have a girlfriend.”
Slap to the face.
My mouth fell open, but no lusting drool this time. This time, the liquid flowed from my eyes. “Did you have this girlfriend two days ago?” I asked.
Troy dropped his head and said, “Yes,” his voice cracking.
More liquid from my eyes and down my cheeks. I simply asked, “Why, Troy?” I didn’t break my gaze from his face. I wanted him to see the hurt and confusion when he glanced up at me.
Troy knew what I was asking and said, “When I saw you walk into the..uh ... t-to the party, I knew I wanted to experience your kiss at least once. I needed that before fully moving on.”
“Why were you at the party alone if you have a girlfriend?” I had so many questions. This behavior was so unlike the man I thought I knew.
“She was out of town. I’m so sorry, Tabitha!” He apologized a million times more. “I didn’t mean any disrespect or to cause any pain. I realize that it was a selfish move and for that, I need you to forgive me.” Now his cheeks were wet.
There was ringing in my ears. My blood pressure had risen. “I’m not mad at you Troy. I am disappointed, but I know that it will subside. I appreciate your honesty and wish you luck in your relationship.”
I wanted to dismiss this encounter. It was more than I wanted to deal with at that time and certainly not how I wanted to begin a new year.
We stood from the couch. The ringing in my ears louder. I pray I don’t pass out on this man, I thought. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I walked Troy to the door. It was a slow stroll. Almost like a funeral procession.
I admitted, “I’m gonna miss you like hell.”
“You say that like I’ve died,” he said, trying to make light of the situation.
All I could muster was a sad smile. We hugged. He kissed me on the forehead, both my cheeks and grabbed my face with both of his hands. I looked up at him. Our eyes welled with tears. He kissed me one last time as tears flowed quietly down our faces.
A few years later I learned that Troy married that woman. I was a ball of confusion, feelings of happiness, sadness and anger all at once. He was happy. I felt sorrow that it wasn’t me. This situation is yet another example of my lack of voice and the habit of going with the flow of things rather than deciding for myself.
Lesson 7: Byron
One day after classes, I made a quick stop at the mall. I wanted to do a little window shopping for ideas for a weekend of hanging out with my girls. While walking through, a dress in a department store caught my eye. After entering the store to examine the dress more closely, I locked eyes with one of the workers. He immediately walked over to me.
His name tag read Byron and he looked a few years older than me, very mature. He was handsome, a Gerald Levert, teddy bear type of situation. This may have been the first moment I developed an attraction to a man with a beard.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“No, sir. I’m good, thanks,” I said trying not to lock eyes with him again. His eyes were sincere, set deep and surrounded by eye lashes that women would pay good money for.
“Well, I think that dress would look nice on you. Let me know if you’d like to try it on.”
“Ok, thanks.” I continued to browse the racks while also checking in on Byron. He was checking in on me as well. We locked eyes several times. Byron walked back over to me after about 15 minutes.
“You doing ok?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Byron said as he checked me out. I watched as his eyes surveyed me from my feet, slowly, all the way to my face. He lingered on my eyes. “You are absolutely beautiful. I’m sure you hear that often.”
I tried hard not to blush at his admiration. “Thank you, I don’t hear it nearly enough,” I said as I continued to browse the racks. I walked over to the next rack showcasing a 65% Off sign. Byron followed me. I enjoyed the flirtatious banter and tried to encourage it.
“So your man doesn’t tell you that enough,” he assumed. My encouragement worked.
“Nope! No boyfriend. I like what you did there though,” I giggled and allowed our eyes to connect again. The flirty back and forth felt like sport. I wasn’t in a state to begin a relationship, but a little catch and release couldn’t hurt.
“I try to be creative. So tell me about you.” Byron requested.
I could not stand this particular open-ended request. I never knew what to say. I didn’t want to sound pretentious or evasive. I didn’t understand why guys just didn’t ask what they wanted to know.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re trying to learn first,” I played.
Byron said, “Mmmm, well ... I guess I’d like to know how I could learn what it would take to get you to go out with me.”
“Maybe you could just ask,” I tease.
“Ok, ok. What’s your name beautiful?”
“I’m Tabitha.”
“Tabitha, can I take you to dinner? I’d like to get to know more about you. I think you’re gorgeous and want some of your free time. How’s that?” Byron teased back.
So this is a first. I had never been asked on a date before and for it to be done so properly, I was intrigued, “Yes. I will go out with you Byron. Only because you asked so excellently.” We both laughed.
“Well how about tonight? I get off at nine.”
Wow, so soon. I definitely liked what I saw physically. He had a boyish smile that made me wonder if he was as innocent as he looked. At the same time, Byron looked like a full grown man. That made me nervous, but I agreed to meet him, “I can meet you back here by 9:30 if that’s cool.”
“That’s perfect. It’s a date!”
I walked around Byron’s store a little while longer, not making a single purchase. Maybe on some level I didn’t want to leave his space. Just before exiting the store by way of an upstairs entryway, a mannequin donning an all-black outfit caught my eye. The black leather pants were daring. The asymmetrical top was sexy. I had to have it. I had no idea where I’d wear it to, but I bought the entire outfit anyway.
Instead of going home, I waited in the parking lot of the mall until Byron was off work. It dawned on me that Byron and I had not exchanged phone numbers—how would we reconnect? I watched the employee entrance of the department store intently, waiting for Byron to emerge. He came out at exactly 9:30pm. I watched him look around a few times, look at his watch and throw his hand up in the air.
I surmise that was the moment he had the realization I had a few minutes ago, we had no way to reach each other. Good thing I was good at stalking. I flashed my headlights to catch his attention. He looked up immediately and walked in my direction. Could he have known the flash was for him? That it was me? I got out of my car to greet him.
“Hey handsome,” I flirt. He looked surprised.
“Hey, don’t start flirting with me. I’ll like it and think it means you like me.”
“Maybe I do like you ... so far.”
He laughed and pointed across the interstate, “Let go to Chili’s. It’s low key and bustling with people minding their own business. It won’t feel as much like a date as it will like old friends grabbing a bite after work.”
He had thought this through, “Ok,” I agreed. “I’ll follow you.”
Byron walked to his car, looking back at me twice as if to check to see if I were still there and willing. He drove to where I was parked and I followed him to Chili’s.
We were seated quickly, without a wait. We were led to a booth near the bathroom. Not many people were seated in this section.
We should be able to talk better over here without so much noise, I thought.
“Your waiter will be with you shortly. May I grab you a couple of drinks while you wait?”
“I’ll have water and the rum punch,” said Byron.
“I’ll have water as well and a strawberry margarita,” I ordered.
I didn’t finish the margarita. I’m not a big fan of tequila, but the choices of fruity, frozen drinks were slim.
Byron was extremely easy to talk to. We chatted about everything from high school to family. We shared fajitas and talked about all sorts of things. I learned in that one date that Byron had one daughter and had just ended a three year relationship with her mother. He moved back in with his parents after the break up, thinking that he’d be there a few months and had been there for a year. He said that it was because his mother enjoyed having him there. I imagine only a part of that is true. Byron paid for dinner and walked me to my car. We both agreed that it was refreshing to speak to a genuine soul.
“Thanks for hanging with me, Tabitha. What are the chances that we could do this again?”
“So you want to see me again?”
“I most certainly do. The way I’m feeling right now, I want to see you as often as I can. If I can’t see you, I want to be talking to you. So this would be a great time to give me your number.”
I giggled. Byron was not shy with the compliments and expressing his desires. I jotted my number down on a Wendy’s napkin that was in my cupholder.
I asked, “Are you the kind of guy that waits a few days before calling?”
Byron smiled his boyish smile, licked his lips and said, “No ma’am. I’m the kind of man who calls when you cross my mind. The kind of man who lets his intentions be known. The kind of man who has no problems letting you know when I want to see you and then will do everything in my power to make it happen. You think you’d be cool with a man like that?”
Damn. I didn’t know how else to respond, “Yes sir.” With tequila inspired confidence I continued, “I’ll always be cool with a take charge kind of man. I’ve never had one of those before.”
Byron smiled a half smile, “Well I’ve got you beautiful. Buckle up for the ride, I don’t typically drive slow.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I loved the banter, “Well, I’m looking forward to it!”
Byron opened my door, told me to be careful and that he’d talk to me tomorrow. He was so sure of himself. I wondered how one came to have a genuine confidence and not a pretend confidence. I felt that so many times, this night included, I couldn’t be my authentic self.
I found myself stopping at the department store as often as I could with absolutely no intention of making a purchase. I just wanted to talk with Byron. To be in his presence. If I stopped by and he wasn’t there, I felt an immense disappointment.
Whenever we talked, we talked about all sorts of things. School, work, goals, backgrounds, family, exes. You name it, we discussed it. I had developed an infatuation for Byron. I enjoyed his presence in my life.
He was a good friend. He didn’t press the issue of being more than friends. I believe he enjoyed my company and talks as much as I did. I valued the friendship we were building. I needed the friendship we were building.
With my attending college and his own endeavors, after a few short months, things with Byron tapered off a bit. A bit turned into months and eventually a year. Periodically, I would go to the store and see him. We’d chat for a good while and things cooled off again. He would call out of the blue. We’d update each other and things would taper off again. After about a year and a half, we ran into each other at a gas station. We chatted and caught up as if no time had passed. We had become pros at that. We were most definitely at different points in our lives. I was a junior in college, working, considering joining a sorority and enjoying life. My partying had slowed considerably, but I still enjoyed the occasional outing.
Byron had gotten married just two months prior to our gas station rendezvous. I was blown away. He never really struck me as the marrying type. I saw him as a ladies man, remember a Gerald Levert look-alike. Women loved Gerald Levert. Women threw their panties at Gerald as he sang “Answering Service” and “Baby Hold on to Me”. I adjusted my posture. I wasn’t as comfortable. I was disappointed.
“You look good, Tab. Damn good,” his compliment interrupted my thoughts of Gerald Levert, love songs, and panties.
“Thank you B. You look good too.”
You bastard, how dare you get married without consulting me, I thought. I was more frustrated than I had the right to be. We were friends no matter how much we flirted with each other. Neither of us made a move, or a declaration of a more intense interest in each other, but I was seriously angry that he was married.
“Hey, I’ve got to go, but I would love to see you again. To catch up and see what’s been happening with you since I last saw you,” Byron said. Still very assured.
“Yes, just let me know. My number is still the same ... that is if you still have it.”
“Oh I most definitely have it. You’re one of my favorite people.”
Then why the fuck did you get married without telling me! I wanted to scream, but instead I agreed.
