I Said, "Bust a GUT"

Relationships can be tough.  That's no secret. Personally, I think more people would benefit from the ability and willingness to just talk and reason and discuss their way through and out of a disagreement.

It's a truly underrated tool.

That said, sometimes talking doesn't get you where you want to be or it doesn't do so fast enough.  Those are the times that emotion, history, and shared experiences get us over the hump.

Sex is one very useful tool in that regard, but don't sleep on laughter.

Anyone who has experienced this will testify like Aunt Esther:

Few things will breathe life into a relationship laughter.

Have you ever laughed with your partner until you were in tears or holding your stomach?

Sexual compatibility is awesome, but there's nothing like two lovers climbing into bed, somebody says something silly, and you laugh yourselves to sleep.

Together.

The 90-day Rules

Single ladies, if you saw my earlier post, you know how I feel about cliches and jingles that pass for relationship advice.  Steve Harvey is an easy example since a friend mentions him regularly but it's not just him. These so-called "rules" about how long to wait before sleeping with a man aren't etched in stone. And they're sure not fool-proof.

Check this: I'm not saying you should get intimate with a guy as soon as you meet him but that 90-day rule is no kind of guarantee that he's not a dog.  If you wait 3 months to get it on with a man, if he really is a dog, he already met women 3 months, ago, that is going to lay down with him every day that you don't.

Trust from experience. WE WILL WAIT YOU OUT.

Don't base your decision to sleep with a man on so some arbitrary time rule.  Base it on his behavior over that period of time, if you want, but not on the time, itself.  That may sound like the same thing but feel me on this...

I see ladies, regularly ignoring all the tell-tale signs that a man is not AT ALL interested in their welfare* but they swear by whatever Harveyism gives them the green light to take him home.

I learned, long ago, to do my best (that's all any of us can do) to pay attention to the things that women tell me about themselves - explicitly or otherwise.  It saves a lot of time and trouble. The same is true of men.  We tell you the truths about ourselves in our words OR in our actions (or both).

It's up to you to listen.

* - (like only calling you when the sun sets and his nature rises, running from danger before YOU do, or nodding through your stories of what's happening in your life, without truly listening or giving a damn) 

Boys and Forts

Men are charged (or charge ourselves) with the task of erecting and maintaining an emotional barrier to substantiate our masculinity. Real moments where we not only let someone in, but allow it to show on the surface, are rare and precious. I think that's one of the reasons that seeing a father holding his child lovingly and out of choice (not just necessity) breaks me up.

The Passing Ritual

Okay. Three funerals in three weeks is enough.

One thing I think I've gained from the experiences, though, is a greater appreciation for practical value of the ritual. While I didn't attend any wakes, I did attend two of the funerals and three of the "repasts"*.

Wakes are almost completely foreign, to me. I don't think I've ever experienced one and I never plan to. Not that anyone's ever excited about attending a wake, but the funeral experience -and its distance from the deceased- seems much more emotionally useful. Maybe I just don't get the true purpose of a wake, though.

I've attended my share of funerals. Even when I didn't know the deceased, the aura of sadness and loss are often enough to make my throat swell and my eyes water a little. Anyone who hadn't had the chance to openly mourn the loved-one's passing can get that extra emotional "push" - the kind that helps you have a "good cry." There are people are to lean on, hold onto, speak for and about the dead, and there's a pastor to slowly bring us back down from the emotional apex of the event. The internment is that last opportunity to say good-bye.

After all that, the repast and procession is like a big, collective hug. A time that may or may not involve much reflection on the life of the deceased, but that can almost be a celebration of life, family, and loved-ones. Seeing those who can't or don't visit often makes us feel good. Eating together makes us feel good. Seeing how our lives are connected and how we affect each other makes us feel good.

It can be hard. In some cases, unfortunately, it can be full of drama. It may even seem to be too much, at times, but I think it helps us all heal from the pain of another's death and grow closer to the living.

I don't think I ever truly "got it," before. Maybe I still don't, now, but I think I'm closer.




* - Apparently, this term has different meanings among different people. I'm generally talking about the after-funeral gathering and consumption of food.

Depriving Ourselves of Happiness

My absolute-favorite class that I ever took in college was Psychology of Women. Although this was in an HBCU, the class was taught by, Dr. Hall, a white, middle-aged, dashiki-wearing, martial arts-instructing, woman who'd been to and knew more about Africa than all of us (in the class) put together.

Scenario #1
Pat: I'm kinda bummed that no one from dance class wished me a happy birthday, a couple of weeks, ago.
Chris: Yeah. That's not a good feeling. Are you sure they knew it was your birthday?
Pat: They should've known from last year.
Chris: So, you didn't mention it a couple of weeks or days before-hand?
Pat: Nope.

At first glance, Dr. Hall made us reconsider the things we thought we already knew ourselves and the world in which we live. When she spoke, she took that to the next level by asking us questions we'd never considered, telling about topics we'd never heard of (like FGM), and giving us the opportunity to reconsider things we've taken for granted, about our daily lives.

Scenario #2
Jamie: Why didn't you go to the New Year's Eve party?
Terry: I wanted to go with you, but you never asked me about it.
Jamie: I didn't know. Why didn't you bring it up - or ask me out?
Terry: I was waiting on you to make the first move. I'm still waiting.
Jamie: Oh. If I'd known, we could've gone out some time. I'm in a relationship, now, though.

Throughout this post are examples of one of the biggest lessons I learned from Dr. Hall: we often actively, deprive ourselves of happiness for the silliest of reasons.

Scenario #3
Bailey: I can't believe you didn't get me anything for Valentine's Day.
Dale: You said Valentine's Day was a silly holiday.
Bailey: Yeah, but I thought you'd get me something, anyway.

It'd be great of people remembered Pat's birthday without having to be reminded days or weeks, in-advance, but that doesn't always happen. With that in-mind, why shouldn't Pat give them a heads-up? Stubbornly choosing not to do so because of an often-unrealized ideal only hurts one person, in the long-run.

Terry and Jamie liked each other, but Terry's silence resulted in the one thing worse than love lost... and that's the love that never came to be. What's wrong with simply saying, "I like you," to that special person? Is it better to watch someone else end up with him or her, instead?

Bailey and Dale are already in a relationship, but it suffers unnecessarily when Bailey's words and expectations don't match.



Often, our pride, silence, social roles, and mixed signals often lead to poor communication and, ultimately, they lead to us not getting what we say we want the most. Maybe it's time to switch tactics.

I'll always be grateful to Dr. Hall for showing and teaching me that there are enough barriers to our professional, romantic, social, and familial happiness without us making it harder for ourselves.

Hug Them

Just the other day, my lady got some very good news about a loved-one. She was pleased for and proud of him. Today, she finds out that he's battling a life-threatening ailment that has yet to be identified.

As we all know, sad times can strike without warning. Go grab, call, or find your loved one(s) and give'em a big ol' hug because you never know what tomorrow will bring.

Luckily, my girlfriend's family member knows how much she loves him, but times like these are good reminders of how much we should appreciate and express our appreciation for those we care for.

Hopefully, things will turn out well and he'll fully recover, but any positive vibes or well-wishes or prayers would be welcome - whether you choose to do so on- or offline.

Take care.

I Love Her Name

Some people shy away from the term, "partner." For many, I think the word carries a connotation associated with homosexuality. For others, a "partner" is someone with whom you share a business venture.

I say, let's just keep it simple:

part·ner [pahrt-ner]
–noun
1. a person who shares or is associated with another in some action or endeavor; sharer; associate.

So, that endeavor could be a business or a relationship and that relationship could be straight, gay, bisexual, polyamorous, or monogamous.

In my case, I'm more concerned about whether it is a good relationship.


Now, my relationship, like any other, has its share of ups and downs, but what makes My Lady my partner is a natural, spontaneous recipe of affective and effective ingredients. Some are easier to identify and explain than others.

For example, she is my partner because ...that's who we are. Not being with My Lady would require going against my nature, like using my left hand instead of my right, trying to stay awake when my body's yearning for sleep, or settling for water when my stomach's growling.

Being with her is just my natural state of being.

Her presence is a relentlessly pleasurable, multi-tiered assault on my consciousness (and my subconscious mind). Imagine something that engages and enthralls all five of your senses, at once. If you can truly conceive of such a thing, then you must realize how very rare and valuable it is.

This is a poor comparison, but I can't help but think of something Chris Rock said about all the starving people in the world: "...if you're one of the chosen few people in the world lucky enough to get your hands on a steak, bite the shit out of it!"

In other words, "Don't pass up a good thing." A woman who stimulates my every sense definitely qualifies.

Hearing.
Since I've known her, I've moved around a lot - often in different states. So, we just talked on the phone for hours on-end. It was then, without the distraction of her physical beauty, I realized that I was in-love with her voice. Soothingly melodious.

Sight.
Speaking of physical beauty, it's like someone took notes on my aesthetic preferences, made a mold, and then poured My Lady into it. Her curves were made for my hands and her face was made for my eyes. Honestly. I've spent an unbelievable amount of the last several years simply staring at this very shy young lady. I feel guilty about it, but I can't help myself.

Smell.
She's living proof of the existence of pheromones. Nuff said.

Taste.
I cannot kiss her enough. My lips and tongue ache for her like some amorous addiction that can't be cured, only managed. And so, I get through each day by counting the minutes and hours until my next fix.

Touch.
I said, earlier, that her curves were made for me and it's true. My hands know every inch of her. It's as if her physicality were ingrained in my muscle memory. If I ever lost my sight, I could identify her sinfully soft skin and unending curvature with but a tactile glance.

As wonderful as all that is, none of this speaks to the universally-valued state of simply being understood by another human-being. No one has ever "gotten me" the way My Lady does and I doubt anyone understands her as much as I do. Certainly, no one knows so much of her ways - her mannerisms and idiosyncrasies.

And, I can say, without vanity or arrogance, that I don't believe anyone could ever love her as much as I do.

In the movie, Good Will Hunting, Robin Williams' character makes a brief speech about the "little things" that has stuck with me because it is simply among the purest of truths:

"Wonderful stuff, you know, little things like that. Ah, but, those are the things I miss the most. The little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. That's what made her my wife. Oh and she had the goods on me, too, she knew all my little peccadilloes. People call these things imperfections, but they're not, aw that's the good stuff. And then we get to choose who we let into our weird little worlds."

So, we are partners because we do just that. We not only share each other's weird little worlds, we embrace them. At least, I do.

Being exposed to the types of music and movies that she likes, listening to and discussing podcasts as we take a road trip, and knowing which "buttons" to press to turn her on or knock her out.

It's hard to choose the best part of this relationship or the best moments of my day, but one of the top three has to involve a dark, cool room, a gentle slumber, and My Lady's head resting comfortably and securely on my chest, while I hold her tight and kiss her softly.

I feel like I've loved her longer than I've known her and, believe it or not,...

I even love her name.