Friday evenings, once my inbox is cleared and the phone calls have diminished, I finally have time to breathe and reflect on my life.
Exclusive image of me every Friday night.
Yes, Friday nights a time when most 20-somethings are out getting shit faced and having meaningless sex, I am at home wondering why I still live in Charlotte and can’t seem to get right in the dating game. I rarely meet men locally. I take that back. I rarely meet quality men here. Quality, by definition, is open for interpretation.
I do not think I’m asking too much to find an unmarried man that has all of his teeth, under the age of 35 with no children and has goals. That is a small list in comparison to the women seeking retirement funds, lavish vacations and expensive gifts. I just ask for free meals and have endless conversations about TV.
Married and toothless 55 year olds knock down my door, all thee damn time.
Ain’t my kind of hype. My friends say I’m picky, and according to Steve Harvey I give up the goods too soon, but I’m not settling for every man that sends me a “good morning” text or appears to be moderately put together on paper.
When I am on vacation, I meet men from all over however, I am not looking for a pen pal at the moment. I accept the good conversation for the duration of my trips and leave it at that. At least I do meet men, just not the ones who have sparked my interested, yet.
So, I’m satisfied with life’s current state until I realize I’m alone.
But not lonely!
There’s a difference. Romantic comedies seem to have the modern day single girl figured out. Apparently, we like to get drunk, drown our sorrows in ice cream, overwork ourselves and pass time in relationships that clearly aren’t going anywhere until magically Mr. Right brings his late ass to the bity party.
Not me.
I’ve found the cure to my single woes.
Fatal Attraction quickly mends my seemingly lonesome heart.
I am by no means making fun of real-life stories depicted on the show, because like the title implies, these relationships end in death with the majority of the cases involving African American women. HOWEVER, when I watch the show I snap from my commonplace relationship goals and realize there are men who are seriously out to eliminate women. And I do mean eliminate. Instead of never texting her again or posting a new pic with his real bae on Facebook like an everyday f*ckboy, these savages are ending lives.
How I watch Fatal Attraction.
When we watch horror movies or any type of scenario where the character is in a dangerous situation, we, the audience are quick to yell out safety techniques, hoping the actor will remove themselves from harm’s way. But, when you’re in true danger, you really don’t know until you’re face to face with it. Very easily, some of the scenarios depicted on Fatal Attraction could have been me. When I do look back on the romances that seem like failures, I quickly realize how I literally dodged a bullet.
When I do look back on the romances that seem like failures, I quickly realize how I literally dodged a bullet.
As I’ve read numerous accounts from women who have experienced the dangers of street harassment all because they were uninterested in the fragility of the male ego, it’s kinda scary. I actually saw a Twitter video of a guy shooting at a girl and chasing her down the street because she wouldn’t give him her number.
Come on, son. Is it that serious?
It really hit me last year that I should be more careful about the relationships I enter.
At the time, I worked 3rd shift and naps were my lifeline. Anyone close to me could tell you, I was terrible about keeping up with text messages and emails that came in while I was asleep. Often times I saw messages, had good intentions to respond, eventually falling asleep and days later remembering I hadn’t pressed send. I woke up one day from a beautiful nap to a text message from “him”. We’ll call him Zack. Zack was like clock work. I got the “good morning, how are you” text in the a.m. By afternoon, I had the “you having a good day?” inquiry. Then, by dinner time I was accustomed to the “you sleep yet, can I call?” message. We had conversations in between, however, he was rather predictable in terms of how he would initiate our dialogue.
Around 9:00 p.m. every night, I woke up in a panic with the “where am I, did I oversleep, lord Jesus be a fence” stupor. For nearly three years, I never got the hang of working the graveyard shift. One particular night, I woke up to my usual missed texts from the day with an additional one from him. What I opened was way more than I could handle. It wasn’t a regular text, instead a photo attached. Excuse me, an image of multiple images.
WTF!?!?!?!
Archive footage of me sitting up in my bed looking at my phone.
This man was going on my Facebook page and collecting photos of me and made no qualms about it. I’m not the girl who sends photos of myself to men, so I was extremely alarmed that he had these images of me. (Yes, I’m well aware that it’s easy to obtain photos nowadays, but still..the shit is creepy.) There were red flags over this play. He had said and done a few questionable things before, but I had turned the other cheek. Mama didn’t raise no fool, so I couldn’t let this one go. It took me out. Like I really began to rethink how much info I shared on social media and questioned how serious I was about being in a relationship. As I have learned from various men in my past, one simply cannot fix crazy.
“When people show you who they are, believe them. The first time.” -Maya Angelou
That was over a year ago and I’m content with my single life and innocent encounters with the opposite sex. While this was only one instance, I am always leery with moving forward with a man unless our intentions for each other are extremely clear. While I try to enter into new relationships with an open mind, leaving behind past baggage, I do keep my eyes open to all things. It’s not always what people say, it’s sometimes what they don’t say that will make the loudest noise. Not all people are bad, but not all people are good. There’s only one me, and I have to be smart about keeping her safe.
So on those Friday nights when I’m feeling vulnerable or wanting to recycle someone from my past, I bingewatch Fatal Attaction on TV One. The universe has surely shielded me from the sadistic men who prey on unsuspecting women, who simply wanted love. I seriously want to send out thank you notes for every man that did not return my text or stood me up for a date. Somehow, I know they’ve done me a huge favor.
“Things happen for you, not to you.” -I heard that somewhere, not sure where though.