I don’t believe it. I don’t believe that anyone who’s been divorced thought, without a shred of doubt, that the matrimony would last forever. I’m not saying they didn’t believe it. I’m not saying that you thought openly about leaving him. But I know you played scenarios in your head about reasons why it wouldn’t work. And I know you talked yourself out of running away. And I know you felt like if you turned down this opportunity, you might never get the chance to be a married woman again. Then again, I don’t know any of it. But you sure did. It wasn’t all a fairytale, was it? The make ups and break ups. The arguments you got through. The obstacles you overcame that made you stronger. The things that brought you together. For some reason we tend to think that something is meant to be if we make it through the bullshit. If we’ve cried all of our tears with him, he must be the one. It takes struggle to build love. I don’t believe it. I never want to argue again. I don’t want drama. I don’t want to worry about who he’s with and where and I certainly don’t want that to be part of the story of how we met, broke up, had sex here and there, got back together, broke up because he wouldn’t propose and now I have this man that belongs to me like the lip gloss in my clutch: just in case I need to feel like a woman.
People like to call me naive. An idealist, even. It’s one of my favorite qualities of myself. Because I’m young. But if you’d check my credentials (degree’d, childless and on an escalator to the top), I’m probably someone you should listen to. And I may be know to walk alone, it is true. But it’s be said before: I walk alone for a reason.Marriage is in your heart. Marriage, and all that comes with it, should exist before the ring does. Before the ceremony. And before God’s eyes are set to sanctify your love, it is your own eyes that should see purity and truth. Why don’t we wait for the one who’s perfect? I mean… if he’s perfect he will appear, right? Perfect is as perfect does.
Maybe the pain was meant to be (I know I hate the saying, too). I believe that we learn infinite scattered piece of knowledge every time we embark on and destroy a relationship. How hard you falls depends on how long it takes for you to learn your lesson –as well as the strength of your partner. I thank my ex everyday for leaving me. Because I loved him far too much. And with the way I behaved, I am positive that there were times when I loved him more than I loved myself. His being satisfied me entirely when in reality, I should have been satisfied with or without him. I thank him for showing me that and for being strong enough to push me away. BEcause I’ve have stayed. If he’d had let me, I’d had tried my best to convince him that we were mean to be –not out of any malicious intent but because I believed that we were. Never did I ever believe he was my prince charming. There were things I didn’t like about him. Things that aggravated me. He wasn’t exactly my “type” but -under the weight of the “moral” world — I decided that this was a good, nice, hardworking man and if I didn’t lock him down when I got the chance, I might never find anyone like him. That I believed. There was a period of time (short as it may have been) when I though the world was over. I had to start over. No one was going to love me. I’d never feel that again. There was no one who would look at me and tell me so sincerely that he loved me. There was no one who could possibly make me feel that way ever again. No one would ever hurt me as badly either. No one would leave me alone holding puddles of mascara in the palms of my hands. I still remember what I looked like. I had never seen myself that way. It was as if life itself had left me. He was cancerous. He had taken all my will to fight. I let myself crumble. Yet and still, I loved him. I called him. I begged him. I apologized. I explained that we were meant to be and even if that mean tbeing friends so that, one day, we’d be together, then I was down for it. But the texts and the tweets and the Facebook messages to ex’s and hoes continued on and I know I’ve told you all this story before, but what I mean to say is… what kind of story is that? That ain’t no fuckin fairytale. That’s not how a love story begins. You know this. You know how it goes. It starts with once and end happily ever after. The love is there in that once.
Perhaps the naivety stems not in believing that love exists, but in believing that it doesn’t.
You are naive to think that you aren’t perfect for the man who is perfect for you. My (not so lil’ anymore) homie Somine,#follow fineeChinaaxo
, tweeted: “My husband eatin hillshire farm sandwiches for dinner everynight.” She followed my literal LOL with an explanation of how her husband will love her and
her sandwiches. She’s right. If she’s perfect for him enough to marry her, her sandwiches just complete the package. There are trials and tribulations in all the Disney sagas but never are they between the lovers. Cinderella fought her stepmom and stepsisters but Prince Charming scoured the entire
village for her. And when he found her, he knew. She didn’t have to come forward. And if I remember correctly, she didn’t want to. She was too afraid that this perfect man was too perfect for her, when in reality, he was just perfect enough. I doubt she thought it would happen. That he dream would come true. That scrubbing floors for the ungrateful (because I’ve scrubbed floors
for the ungrateful) would all be a thing of the past.
Maybe our outlook on naivety is reversed when it comes to love. Maybe those teenage emotions are exactly what love is and as we mature and harden, we lose the ability to love purely and are bogged down by the modern-day Moirae: family, friends and lawyers –al of whom play too big a role in relationships now-a-day. Maybe, in youth is when your heart is at its purest. You haven’t yet been poisoned by popular thought. You love freely and hard instead of “wisely” and “informed”. Who wants to love wisely? I want a man who loves me so much he’s played around with running away with me and getting married in Vegas, liver drenched in patron, walking through a haze of Mary Jane –Jay-Z’s Bonnie & Clyde playing from my iPad. Why is it naive of my to believe in my dreams? I’ve seen them first-hand. I’ve plotted them out single-handedly. Maybe the rest of the world is naive to think love isn’t enough. I used to be one of those people & part of me still is. I still require financial security. I still couldn’t bring myself to pursue a man with less education than myself. I had the chance to, but I didn’t. I feel like a bad person every time he sends me a “Happy Birthday,” because he does. Every year since I was 15. But that’s not the life for me. I love what we had. I love what came of it, but I don’t love him. I don’t get lost in thoughts of him. I don’t comfort myself by imagining his fingers intertwined with mine. I don’t yearn for his embrace. I don’t think his kiss is magic and I never did. Yes, kisses should be magic. I’ll tell you later what magic tastes like.
People connect like puzzles pieces. Have you ever laid to bed with a guy and just felt so uncomfortable? Not because of him. Not because of the bed. But because you simply couldn’t fit into one another? Do you know what it feels like to fit? Beyond that, do you know what it feels like to fit when you haven’t even been beside one another. Love transcends time and space. It’s there before you even know the other exists. Perhaps this is what a soul mate is. I previously questioned the existence of the mystic character, but have finally come to a conclusion: Your soul mate will come when your soul has fully formed. Howe can you possibly think you will meet the perfect person for you when you have barely met you yet? I used to be so sure of myself but I’ve really just begun to know who I am at 23 years old. And if I barley know me, how can I expect someone else to? I just realized that prefer R&B to Rap (although it’s Jay-Z above all) but if I do go hip-hop, I like it extra gangsta. Like Eve on her Ruff Riders’ First Lady Album and Lil Kim’s Notorious and forward. I just remembered that basketball was my real first love (and I know because I quite everything for basketball and played on every league I could even though I was never better than decent, I just love the game). I like all my food cooked. Sushi aint for me. I’ve grown enough to eat my vegetables, but not when they’re raw.
In essence, I’ve been paying attention to myself the way I used to pay attention to men.
You know… the shit you worry about. What he likes, what makes him happy. His favorite food, color, sport, song. I’ve been asking myself all of those questions and I’m thrilled with all of the answers. I finally know how I feel and that allows me to feel outside of myself. So when I go after what/who I want, I’ll know that it;s because I truly adore that person and not simply to make up for the parts of myself that are lacking. Prince Charming will complete a portion of my life, but he won’t complete me.
I’m already a whole person.
I’m not fuckin naive
. I despise the word naive just as I do the word unique. It’s just a word people use when their vocabulary well has dried. So here, I’ve found the definition and aim to demolish them all. 1. I promise you this is not simple. And I am not unaffected. Any female reading this knows that love is the hardest thing to believe in, aside from men themselves. But I do. & It’s taken a lot of thought for myself. Á la Ludacris, in David Banner’s Be with You,
You’ve got to believe in love like you believe in God. Full faith. Belief is your only savior. If you don’t believe in love, how can you expect to ever find it. And the one thing you need from your soulmate, without question, is that they have faith in you. No faith, no love. And I have been previously subjected to this “love” thing and experimented with it so far as to mentally marry a men when my heart didn’t align. I wanted good men. Good fathers. Good people. But it wasn’t good for my heart. I wanted happiness. I want a love inflicted mumur. I want to be so taken aback by him that I almost lose my life in his for a very split
second. And when I come back through -every time– I’m simply happy that he’s come back through, too. If, one day, I believe in a specific God, I want to thank him daily for my husband’s breath.
But if you’d like to call me naive as in “self-taught” and “primitive” I supposed you are right.
No one has taught me to love, instead, I’ve had to figure it out on my own. I haven’t seen to many happy marriages. I haven’t seen that for myself aside from movies and novels — similar to how no one on this earth saw Jesus Christ with their own eyes. So why is it wrong for me to believe? What am I so afraid of? What are we
so afraid of? Emotional distress? It’s more distressing trying to ignore how you feel than to simply try
. I’m not saying you should love every person, but I’m saying that not every person you love is the one you should marry. That doesn’t make the love any less valid. Simply made it temporary. A prerequisite. A core class. A well-rounded lover will have loved and lost and learned. It’s okay to lose sometimes. You’ve got to fall so that you learn how to get up.
I encourage everyone to love naively –primitively, that is. Like the did in the days before alimony and child-support and pre-nups and secret bank accounts. You shouldn’t love everyone this way, but if that person is meant for you, then you should be able to. It’s not that I don’t think divorce is necessary –sometimes people marry the wrong people & they should be able to split up –but at the end of the day, you need to admit that that was your mistake. That wasn’t the one for you. The one for you will never leave… And if you haven’t found him yet, that just means he’s still out there. & he won’t be complete without you either, so don’t worry about where he’s at and what he’s doing and who he’s with. Because if you two are truly meant to be, no other will satisfy the desire. There’s no need to worry.