I was taking my Future CEO to a specialist appointment and engaging in some light banter with the medical professional. That’s how all of these “feelings” were brought to the surface.
“Are you still single?”
“Yes, yes I am. I think it may be best if I stay this way.”
“I think you are right, dating and relationships are complicated.”
And then they gave me the “poor Black woman tried to be married got cheated on, divorced, now you have to raise your daughter by yourself because you are really old and aren’t considered a suitable spouse because white patriarchy says so” … look.
I absolutely hate that look. Yeah, I’m Black American and I’m divorced. Don’t rub it in damnit. Things didn’t work out and I’m a much happier bunny because of it and so is he. There I said it… my love, me, … damnit I no longer could make that dude happy so sh** ended. … but don’t pity me. Jeeeeeeeeesus.
It’s like through the sadness in their eyes I can see the stereotypes of the destitute Black woman / mother playing in their head. Ugh. Nobody looks at Elizabeth Taylor like that and she was 0-5 when it came to marriage. She was running through husbands like you run through changing underwear on a really hot day in Houston.
Yes. I. Am. Hella. Single.
And ain’t shhhhhhhhh wrong with that. Period.
I tried to love people. I admit that I have awful taste in the souls of men. The men I’ve selected look amazing on the outside and inside, I’m not really what they want in the long term. It is what it is… but that’s not a bad thing. That’s just life.
If I have learned anything in my 45yrs on the planet, LIFE F’ING HAPPENS. LIFE COMES AT YOU FAST.
Things change. Love changes. People changes. Desires changes. It makes for some dramatic beginnings and endings in the chapters of our life.
I enjoy my single-ness a lot. I frequently date myself. I get to enjoy the silence and peace I need, while I am working on myself. There is this vast solitude to be with myself and examine the broken parts I should fix, to feel the sadness and grieve those I loved immensely who discarded my love, to grieve my failed marriage and idea of what I thought marriage, love and relationships were meant to be.
You need to be single to push through all that work. It is not for the faint of heart. It is not for those who cannot cry and then look at themselves in the mirror while silently telling themselves it will be okay. It is not for the weak, because you need to be able to sit with your memories, sort them, feel them, then compartmentalize those that no longer serve a higher purpose. That’s that good-good work for the soul. Everybody ain’t ready to do that kind of work.
“Are you still single?”
It cuts like a knife but I walk boldly in how uncomfortable it makes me feel. I examine the parts of me that become inflamed and then work to heal those parts.
Are you still single? Yes. Why yes, happily … yeah, I am.