Love Him All Over Again
Love Him All Over Again
When I first discovered I loved him…I didn’t even really know what love was
Or what it meant to really love someone…sleeping in cars…on abandoned highways
It was more like puppy love…or curiosity
I wanted to be loved and give love but wasn’t quite ready for all of the possibilities
The second time I thought I loved him it was because he noticed me
That gleam he’d get whenever I crossed his path
Those extra moments spent on the phone…neither one of us wanting to hang up
I knew we could be good together but he still needed to go and grow
And so did I…I suppose
Looking for love in all the wrong places is more than a song or cliché
It’s the turn we’d take time and time again…only to return to a familiar friend
At the root of this relationship that needs no label…is a love so pure
A love so sweet….a love so able
It withstood the test of time…16, 17, 18…now 19 years in the making
That man’s heart I’m taking…it’s mine now… forever and then some
Oh to love him all over again
I thought about you today….
Even though what we had is… DONE!
Despite that crystal clear fact….
You crept upon me…
That sudden way it all ended….you doing what you’ve always done
Not standing by your words….
I had to smile because it made me finally walk away
I didn’t run…like I should have
I peeked a few times over my shoulder because.. ..for me
What we had was real and special and necessary….
I needed you….I wanted you…But I never really had you…did I
These thoughts this morning had me wondering…was it all a dream
Do I have such a vivid imagination…to conjure up such passion and heartache
Am I one of those naïve women that gets used time and time again…and still
Comes back for more…damn…am I her
Remembering you said you hoped I wouldn’t hate you in the end…made me chuckle
It seems as if you tried your best to ensure that’d happen
Time and time again sending my emotions on a roller coaster…
And silly me kept getting in line for your ride….what does that say about me
I long for the day that these thoughts leave me be…and evaporate
Like the love I once had…I was truly mad…for you
An oldy but goodie of mine….
Cursed by my Beauty or Booty?
Without sounding shallow, stuck-up, or ungrateful, I present these thoughts for your digestion. I’m fed up ladies and gentleman. For the last 19 years I’ve endured an enormous amount of unwanted attention. Don’t get me wrong, I do like to be noticed. I do like making friends, and considering I’m married, I definitely want and need to be the center of someone’s world. But what I do not need and what I TRULY do not want is all the “negative” attention I continue to receive on a daily basis.
I am glad that I am happy when I look in the mirror (for the most part). There are several things about me I wish I could change or perfect, but all in all, God dealt me a very generous hand. But what I TRULY hate is that all my self esteem, self worth, and security gets taken for granted, gets played with, gets disregarded when I am confronted with “genuine” remarks of approval?
The question mark is there for a reason…..
Am I to enjoy and appreciate being honked at when I walk from the train station?
Am I to enjoy being gawked at when I go shoe shopping with a co-worker?
Am I to enjoy all the teeth sucking and … “um-um-um, good lawd almighty’s”, “are those painted on baby’s”, “shake it for me over here’s”, “you shole is fine’s”, “can I go with you baby’s”?
I know I am being undressed. I know I am be objectified. I know I am being treated like a piece of ass instead of a person.
For those men and/or women, that do these things, I hate it. The reason I only speak for myself is because I don’t know if I’m alone. Maybe other women like this attention. Maybe this boosts their self esteem. Maybe ANY attention is better than NO attention. I don’t really know. I am not in the other shoes, so I really can’t wear them. All I know is, it doesn’t flatter me. And sometimes it frightens me because I don’t know how to respond to it in a way that doesn’t threaten my security. My natural inclination is to throw up my middle finger, say “get your mind out the gutter and I’m taken for the hundredth time, don’t you see this rock on my finger?” But in Baltimore, that might not be the best course of action. I just keep it moving.
I’m not naïve. I do appreciate a good compliment, (i.e. You are very beautiful. You look nice today. Or even, girl you are wearing that dress). I am flattered when men want my number, but I am embarrassed when they let me know they would , “tear that ass up”. Gentlemen, that is too much information. Some ladies might like that, but I am so sure I do not look like one of them.
I hate the fact that I am known as “big booty Toy” instead of “Toy from Cleveland”, “Toy the Delta” or the most original one “Toy Hughes”.
So I end this dissertation, recognizing that I cannot change the way people think, act, or respond to my Booty or Beauty. But if I could just change one person’s way of thinking or raise awareness to this tacky social condition, I would have done something. And I’ve always believed that something is better than nothing.
Where is the middle ground?
Is it something I must request?
Or is it just a given that one be presented in each and every relationship?
Why is everything I say or do so black and white to you?
Where are my Shades of Gray?
If I say I want to be friends, that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, your day, your struggle.
Doesn’t mean I don’t want your attention and your sweet, soft, snuggle.
I am a complex woman. Just about as complex as they come.
Give me your time…your patience, your understanding…don’t be so….DEMANDING.
Understand that I am here for you. My lack of full throttle no holds barred written in ink commitment to….THIS, doesn’t make me the enemy.
I want you here. I need you here. Just be here….for me.
The things I like about you…
The first smile I put on your face
Knowing that you are thinking of me
Your excitement when you realize I’m thinking of you
The easy going, cool as hell, vibe we get just being together
Your voice…it soothes and excites
Your interest and curiosity
The newness of it all
That first unbelievably incredible kiss
Every delectable follow-up kiss
The shock factor that you bring to every encounter
You enjoying my tastes
Me enjoying you enjoying me
…random things I hope to always treasure
I don’t think I’m cut out for basketball mom.
Not sure I really have what it takes.
I don’t deserve the bedazzled jacket.
I never scream, “hands up” from the stands,
I don’t threaten to give you “push-ups” when the ball is snatched from your hands.
I don’t ignore my other child’s wails because you’re headed to the line,
What the heck is wrong with me, do I have no spine?
Of course you shouldn’t play for just the fun of it,
Why, what lesson could you learn?
It must be my priority to demand persistence, endless drills, and only celebrate if you win, and yell “what the *bleep* is wrong with you” if you lose.
I guess I need to rethink why the heck I even let you sign-up for basketball,
If it wasn’t to build you into the next D. Wade, Kobie, or yuck-yuck-yuck Lebron.
Oh yeah, that’s right, it was supposed to be for FUN!!!!!