Free Your Mind

“… I might date another race or color,
It doesn’t mean I don’t like my strong black brothers”

- En Vogue (Free Your Mind: Funky Divas)

So during my last two semesters of school, I tried to stay focused on staying focused but as the weeks passed by, I became more restless and anxious. My world crumbled when The Voice and I parted ways and I found myself riding solo through the world.

(Cue Beyonce’s “Single Ladies”)

Now, I’m not the type of guy who likes being unattached so I channeled my breakup frustrations and angst into my studies and soon enough, I began considering something new. I soon discovered he was smart. He was talented. He had the same type of dry, sarcastic humor as me. He was attractive. He was sexy.

And he was white.

Yeah, in all my years of dating and failed relationships, I suddenly found myself checking out a white guy.

Now, let me straighten things out (no pun intended) before I continue: I am hardly a candidate for racism and bigotry. After all, I am African-American and SGL so I have absolutely no right to criticize another person for their religion, gender, ethnicity or sexual orientation. Moreover, I’ve had friends from numerous backgrounds such that if they all gathered in one room, it’d look like a United Nations summit. Plus, it’s hard to be narrow-minded at UMass Boston considering the many students from all walks of life. I enjoy getting to know people from all cultures and backgrounds as it makes life interesting and fascinating.

Nevertheless, I felt some deep confliction then and even now, nearly a year since I admitted I was interested in this guy. However, I had never seriously considered dating a white guy before this “curiosity” began. My “black book” is filled with guys who are mostly from West Indian descent. And the few white guys I dated were flings at the most. Either they were too mature for me (I was exceptionally naïve when I first came out) or I wasn’t serious about them. Either way, it never lasted more than one or two dates. In a nutshell, I don’t have much experience seriously dating outside my race.

I’ve only had about four or five serious relationships, including my first girlfriend and I suppose it was easier to relate to each one because we shared the same racial experiences growing up. Everyone I dated had felt that sting of discrimination. We all knew what it was like to deal with “our people.” We all knew about the “black church” experience. We all heard the ghetto black rumors, knew the black handshakes and drilled every February on our black history. And we all went through the “please don’t let him be black” mantra when we saw a crime being reported on television. But how do you relate when your boyfriend doesn’t have a clue about any of these things?

While I’ve already established that I’m open to new encounters, I somehow have to reconcile with the “traitor to the race” mentality that’s been indoctrinated in our community since long before I was born. I have relatives on each end of the color spectrum but can’t help remembering those echoes of “oh they got them babies with the fine hair.” While most in the community have moved on from that mentality, there are many inside and out the black community that have not. And that’s not even touching upon the racism within the gay community.

Could I have dated too many black guys with issues that it’s turned me off? Does this make me self-hating? While my friends and family may be accepting, what types of ignorant things will we encounter in the real world aside from us being an SGL couple? These are just some of the thoughts swirling around in my head.

I suppose the first step will be to “adjust the vision of my future-self.” For example, when I acknowledged my sexual orientation, I was mostly devastated that my “future-self” would no longer have that all-American scenario: wife, kids, house with a picket fence. In time and as I began to really delve into the gay community, I realized that I just needed to shift that vision a little. The woman became a guy and the kids existed via adoption. Thus, that perfect African-American partner I visualized may become Asian, Latino or white. Or another ethnicity entirely.

Maybe I’m becoming more open-minded as I age. After all, I’m thinking about a long-term relationship and possibly a family the closer I get to 30 while the “me” from ten years ago was all about fun. Who knows where this is all coming from and how it will turn out.

In the end, the most important realization is that regardless of his skin color, I just want the love to be 100% real and honest.

And it doesn’t get any realer than that.

Moving On

Closing the chapter on one part of my life ...

To The Voice:

Slowly, surely
I walk away from that old desperate and dazed love,
caught up in the maze of love,
the crazy craze of love

Thought it was good,
thought it was real,
thought it was
but it wasn't love

I just don't know
where I should go

Slowly, surely
I walk away from self-serving,
undeserving, constantly hurting me love
deserting me love
You said, I said, we said

But ...

Slowly, surely
I walk away from confusing love,
misusing love, abusing love
this can't be ...

Slowly, surely
I walk away from self-serving,
undeserving, constantly hurting me love

Slowly, surely
one step at a time
But surely I will pass the old love aside,
and love me ...

(Excerpts from Slowly, Surely - Who Is Jill Scott? Words & Sounds, Vol. 1)

Bad Romance

Okay, so I suppose the first thing to clear up now that I’m back is to explain a little about what happened between me and The Voice.

Truthfully, I don’t think I want to get into all the gory details about who, what, when and why’d y’all break up. Nevertheless, I did say I needed to get some of this off my chest so I suppose I have to open up a little.

It’s a bit odd to be typing this especially since this time last year I was excited about having my first Valentine’s Day with my very first solid romance. And yet, who would’ve known a year later, I’m not just singing Bad Romance from Lady Gaga but living it.

A few posts back, I explained how The Voice asked for space (right around our one year anniversary no less) and while I was reluctant at first, I did as he requested. Unfortunately, my bad side came back out to play and I happened to traipse into someone else’s sandbox. Unfortunately, the sand isn’t any whiter on the other side of the fence. Right as we were about to reconcile, the truth came out and I’ve endured the consequences ever since.

So now to fill in the gaps: a week before our departure on our cruise, we got into a nasty argument. All kinds of things came out and sad to say, The Voice is the kind of guy that hangs on to a lot of things. But I’m not going to point blame because I narrow mindedly went on the cruise thinking that we would get back together and all would be forgiven.

DEAD WRONG!

The night after his birthday, we got into another argument on the ship and that left the entire trip extremely tense. I spent many nights down in the bars and clubs, drinking myself silly and this only led to continued difficulties on the cruise. I’ll have a post up about the cruise so I won’t get too detailed about that.

We returned from the cruise and most of November and December was chilly as The Voice was still upset with the cruise and how things turned out. It got so bad that he didn’t even attend any of my “end of semester” concerts and we talked even less. We tested the highway of friendship out but it was a bit slippery as many of the signs on the side of the road were misinterpreted. There were times when I assumed he wanted me back but when approached he stated he was only interested in friendship because of how badly I hurt him. But remember that neither party walks away uninjured: I was hurting badly too.

The days passed, the holidays came and went and we were cordial and cool with each other but I secretly suffered wishing I had him back and hadn’t messed up so bad. You see, when my past relationships ended, it was easy to become friends after awhile because I blamed them for the breakups and I learned to hate them, personify them as the villain. Sadly, I couldn’t hate The Voice and he’s said the same about me, despite all the arguments and problems we endured the last few months. Additionally, I understood that this was unlike any breakup I endured because he was not an online trick or casual encounter and it was also the longest and most involved relationship to date.

Most importantly, I also recognized that I wasn’t to blame for everything that went wrong (despite his desire to make me believe otherwise) and grew stronger.

Well, it’s January and the beginning of a new year. A friend of mine helped me comprehend that I will be just fine by myself. It’s okay to be single again and I’m starting to emerge from my “mourning” period. I miss him terribly and I’m sure he misses me but in some ways this might be the best thing for us. I can focus on my studies, graduation and career while he can concentrate on getting a job (a huge source of contention between us throughout the past year) and returning to graduate school. Besides, even our horoscopes warned against the coupling of a Libra and Virgo but we thought we could defy even the stars!

Yeah, how naïve …

Nevertheless, It hasn’t been easy. Consequently our convos are incredibly strained and barely a text or phone call is traded between us. And what diminutive friendship existed is breaking apart. There’s a small glimmer of hope (my Mariah Carey gene) that we could give it a “second time around” but then reality sets in harder than Whitney a crack addict going through withdrawal and I know the past can’t be erased. What’s been said and done is just that: done.

Still, I have to end on this very important note. I do NOT (let me repeat NOT) regret going through this relationship. You see, prior to meeting The Voice, I was getting my life together. I had gotten off my butt and returned to school, and even left my cushy job to pursue my degree! Then he entered my life. He pulled me out of my quiet, introverted world and showed me that it was okay to open my heart again. We attended social events, traveled together and I gained confidence. So many great memories subsist in my mind and it’s a year of my life I’ll never, ever forget.

I was cynical and cold towards the idea of love (you can view the thawing process in all my previous posts on The Voice) and finally, I tore the wall down. As did he. We both fell hard and fast and I felt with him something I hadn’t felt before: a future. But sadly, love is a gamble, a risk and though it’s a beautiful rose, it does have thorns and hurts like a mofo …

But I’ll never be sorry that I felt like that, held him like that, opened up like that, loved like that. I proved that I could love again and while it didn’t work out, I’m not ready to quit on love. I’m stronger, wiser and more mature.

And most importantly, I’m ready for the next time.

... What You Got Till It's Gone

I f***ed up really, really, really, really bad tonight.

I'm typing this entry mere hours after admitting to The Voice that I ended up kicking it with one of the X-Men during our separation. And right now, I'm feeling lower than low ...

Before I go any further, I had an entry ready to be published Monday morning but decided to hold off since circumstances changed. The Voice and I have been going through a "separation" for the past few weeks (beginning of August) and in a nutshell, I've been pleading and pleading for us to get back together.

He disagrees. He had some serious personal issues to work out. I believe that you need to work together in a relationship regardless of the crazy s*** that comes your way. But he wanted to go it alone so I've relented after a few weeks and now that I'm in school again, my mind isn't dwelling on it as much.

Flashback: two weeks after he asked for the separation, I invited an X-Men over. I needed somebody, I needed to feel something, I needed love. Well, two out of three is what I got. There was no love. He didn't hold me like The Voice. He didn't smell like him, he didn't kiss like him, there was no connection between us. So was it guilt that made me realize I want him back or just an epiphany?

Flashforward: I don't know, and I don't care. Right now, as of this minute (12:34 AM), all I know is that I found the man who holds my heart. The truth is (read this slowly and carefully) that I've never, ever loved anyone more than I love The Voice. As we lay tonight holding each other, he admitted how much he misses me (albeit before my ill-timed confession) and I found myself absentmindedly scratching his back, something I know he likes. Who else knows what he likes when go out to eat? Who else knows about his strange little OCD obsession when we leave his apartment? Who else will put together his furniture or anything else he's not handy with? Who else can hold him the way I do? Who else knows his moods as if they were my own?

He is my love, my soul, my everything.

I will do anything to gain his trust back, if it's even possible. And if it is possible, I'll love him stronger than ever.

Trust and believe that.

Take Me Back

“Sittin’ here thinking bout yesterday
About what we did and how we used to play
Just the thought of you brings a smile upon my face
That’s how it makes me feel to see you everyday

(Chorus)
Take me there,
I wanna go there,
Take me there,
Let’s go there,
Take me to that great place
With wonders and wishes”

Blackstreet, Mya, Mase & Blinky Blink (Take Me There Remix – from The Rugrats Movie Soundtrack)

Going back to the basics was what our weekend theme two weeks ago was all about! I haven't had a weekend like that in several months and to say it was splendid was an absolute understatement!

The Voice and I met up at the train station on Saturday morning and jetted to the post office to apply for his passport. Afterwards, we timidly entered the realm of baby shopping seeking out a gift for my one year old great-niece. We made a pit stop at D'Angelo's and sat in the car in front of Babies R' Us commenting and laughing at the various couples entering. I know, I know, it sounds mean but we were getting a kick out of "who wears the pants in which relationship," poking fun at the husbands who looked like they had been dragged by their toenails into the store. Eventually, we picked out a plastic pink stroller which I hoped would help her with walking - it was also the nicest and cheapest item and you know I'm on a college student, post-Bush recession budget!

I wrapped the gift up, scooped up Pops and left for the party. We arrived very late but that means absolutely nothing at a gathering of CP's! I was especially eager to introduce my sister, nieces, nephew-in-law, and brother-in-law to The Voice. The kids (I have two great nieces and nephews) were swarming around the yard and the house was filled with one ghetto couple after another. Nevertheless, it was good to see my niece, who sorta resembles Solé. Tweet, my sister, was busy helping The Voice get his buzz on (she makes this incredible concoction that consists of Southern Comfort, sherbet and ginger ale and probably some other secret ingredient that she’ll never reveal!).

Well, an hour into the party, I was satiated with my fill of ghetto-ness and we left. Besides, The Voice and I had tickets to check out The Blue Man Group! Now, I had seen the show several years ago with one of the X-Men, Heart2Soul, but I have to say that I found it just as fascinating and inventive and was able to discern more themes the second time around. I kept stressing to The Voice that we "simply cannot be late!" and he kept questioning me. He found out when they allowed a few late-comers to enter the show, shined a spotlight on them, featured them on camera, and sang "Yooooou're laaaateee!" ... he simply glanced over at me, smirking and realized why I had been so insistent! Overall, we enjoyed the show despite not being able to see the entire stage due to several “fatheads.” Following the performance, I was trailed down the stairs by one of the blue men ... damn, those guys really give me the creeps!

We were starving and thus headed to our favorite spot. Yep, you guessed it!

Cheesecake Factory!

A perfect ending to the perfect evening. Walking around the theatre district after a riveting show, dinner at a fairly decent place (the cheesecake and drinks are the only things truly worth checking out!), it was nice to go home and “cuddle” together.

The next day, we slept in and then stopped by UMB so I could take care of my penultimate stats lab. We then spent the remainder of the afternoon furniture shopping, eventually ending up back at IKEA.

SIDEBAR: I finally heard from Crazy and suffice it to say, he's doing good and still crazy! Hopefully we'll hang out soon.

The best part of the evening was when we rushed back to the Lizard Lounge in Cambridge to watch the Poetry Slam Finals which featured eight outstanding poets who rocked the house! The place was small and packed wall to wall, not an empty chair left. I hadn’t seen it like that since the first time he introduced me to the slam. By the way, that was our first date the day after we met. Told ya! It was all about going back, waaaay back, back into tiiiiimmmmmeeee ... okay, it's late, I'm being silly!

The poets, Iyeoka Okoawo, Art, Marlon Carey, Nicole “Cole” Rodriguez, Harlym 1 two 5, Influence, Michelle and Fibo each went three rounds, three minutes apiece with topics ranging from sex and love to political issues. I don’t want to get into specifics because this blog entry will be ten times longer but all were spectacular in his or her unique way. In the end, Marlon, Cole, Harlym 1 two 5, and Iyeoka were chosen to represent the Boston Slam Team in the National Slam Finals in West Palm Beach, FL in August. The place cleared out rather quickly following the intense competition and a small gathering remained to check out the open mic. Suddenly, The Voice felt empowered and decided to get up and spit something … needless to say (and maybe I’m a bit biased), he rocked what was left of the house!

We were the very last two patrons to leave and it was late when we arrived home but that didn’t stop our hearts from caressing one another and we fell fast asleep in our arms.

Monday morning flew by rapidly. Pizzeria Regina and Barnes & Noble filled our day and then I was off to work, my head saturated with thoughts of our “chill” weekend.

I recently expressed that I felt our relationship was getting stale but in hindsight, I feel I was terribly off-base. It’s not stale but rather, we’re exceptionally comfortable with one another. We are no longer erecting our facades of the “perfect boyfriend”; the infatuation has ended. We’re very much in love, but the level we’ve attained is beyond anything I’ve felt for another human being. Many of our flaws have been revealed to one another and while I used to be extremely self-conscious about my appearance and behavior, I’ve come to understand that building a future with someone means tearing down those walls and revealing your true personality. That weekend really helped recapture those heartfelt emotions of what initially attracted me to The Voice.

My Sickly Valentine (Part 2)

So did we manage to save V-Day weekend?

Sorta.

I was up and down all night, my stomach giving me the ultimate run for my money. The Voice rebounded from his toothache however, my ailments just wouldn't disappear. Gradually, I developed a fever and felt like I was in Shubuta, Mississippi! Every joint in my body ached and my muscles were leaden as though I was in the supergravity of a gas giant. We lay in bed nearly all of Sunday and I fitfully slept in between the gory sounds of Friday The 13th playing On Demand (he's a huge horror fan and I'm not, so I lay facing the wall).

And did he take care of me? Without a doubt! After the release of nearly all my stomach contents, I was feeling extremely dehydrated. I recalled my Nutrition course professor's lesson, that the body needs electrolytes following such an extreme loss of fluid. So I sent my man across the street to 7-Eleven to buy me several bottles of Gatorade. Additionally, he brought me some Zantac to help relieve my stomach as well as break my fever and alleviate my throbbing muscles. He even texted my bro and mom to tell them what was going on!

Later that afternoon, my fever broke and I began feeling extremely restless. So we ended up playing checkers on my phone and he kept me entertained with all sorts of stories from his past. We also watched a really lame made-for-TV horror flick called The Breed. The plot involved a group of "killer dogs" who terrorize a bunch of partying college kids vacationing on an island. Needless to say, it was downright stupid and the effects were lame but I only watched because my sexy baby Hill Harper was in it ("why Hill, why? You're a Harvard law school grad! You're sooo much better than that!") It was more laughable than anything.

This lazy day was exactly what the doctor ordered! You've no idea how great it felt to simply lounge with my boyfriend. And even though I felt like the bottom of my shoe, he stuck by me when I wasn't at my best.

Now, I think I'm beginning to understand this concept called love a lot better. Nevermind that I puked all over the place and had bed hair. Nevermind that I was funky. Nevermind that I basically looked like s****! (T.M.I. maybe?) He was with me.

I think I'm digging this love thing a whole lot! :: huge grin ::

That evening, we left the house and stopped by a Border's Bookstore and picked up some food for him at P.F. Chang's. When we got home, I was beginning to feel crummy again and simply wanted real food (I'd been eating only yogurt and Gatorade) and rest. I entered his room and to my surprise he had heated up a bowl of chicken soup with a glass of Gatorade and some aspirin to relieve my sore arms! While my baby isn't exactly a Le Cordon Bleu graduate, he can hold his own so that really made my night.

The next morning he accompanied me to my primary physician and even went along to the pharmacy. I'm telling you, it

"Don't get much better than this!"

So while our romantic V-Day weekend didn't go precisely as planned, I got to see a more caring, more nurturing side to The Voice. His kindness and patience have left a deep impression on me. In the months that I've known him, The Voice has proven time and time again his loyalty and dedication to his friends. But I often wondered where did I stand? He's opened up tenfold since we met however, feeling that unconditional love when I'm at a low point is truly indescribable and soul-warming ...

... and it's probably the best Valentine's gift I ever received!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Addendum: To answer Sean Stone's question, it was a stomach virus that seemed to go through the entire family, two of which were on antibiotics (Java-Mama and Rugrat). My doc didn't prescribe any for me as the virus had run it's course by the time I went to see him. The craziest part? We all the same symptoms but weren't even around each other (my folks were out of town of the weekend). While I'm all better, it seems that the virus went after The Voice but more on my weekend in Philadelphia in the next post!

My Sickly Valentine (Part 1)

I never understood the meaning of 'lovesick' and now I think I do! But it's not in quite the way you'd imagine ...

I was in high anticipation Friday night and after rushing through my work, I jetted to my baby's crib to hold him tighter than ever before. We curled up and snored the night away, I woke up on Valentine's Day to his grinning face and sparkling eyes. Talk about a great way to begin my special day!

The Voice and I spent most of the day lying in bed, laughing, joking, talking and simply relaxing. After a few hours of laziness, we went out to pick up a few V-Day gifts for his friends and family. We stopped to grab a bite of food and then made our rounds like Santa on Christmas Eve. We swung by Ladybug's crib and met her sister who was visiting from out of town. J-Dub was by and after a shot or two, everyone was feeling nice (except me).

As we left, I was bit annoyed because the day hadn't gone as I had planned and I didn't get all my V-Day stuff together for The Voice. So we headed on to Hollywood Video and picked up Love Jones with Larenz Tate and Nia Long and then proceeded to the Build-A-Bear Workshop where he let me design my own Valentine bear!

Above: Kindred

Some of his friends remarked that this idea was a childish but we tuned them out. Subsequently, we observed a guy and his girlfriend picking out and designing a bear so I felt less awkward.

We then made our way back to his crib and I whipped up dinner. Needless to say, it all went downhill.

How you may ask?

"Well ... " (said like Samantha Stevens from Bewitched)

I whipped up some shrimp alfredo and some fish patties for The Voice. His wisdom tooth started aching so he laid down while I popped in Love Jones. I was really getting into the movie and he presented my other gifts. He gave me a card, the Noah's Arc: Jumping The Broom DVD, and a framed picture of himself with his original poem (and my favorite) titled The Voice. The most amazing part? On the frame was a quote I had texted him while I was Christmas shopping a few months ago which I thought he had forgotten all about! It read:

"I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you."
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Above: The Voice's gift (he's shy so I had to block out his face!)

So after the movie ended, my stomach started rumbling.

"It's just a little indigestion," I thought.

Well I drifted off to sleep and sometime around 2 AM, I dashed into the bathroom for some one-on-one face time with the toilet bowl. I don't think there's anything worse than puking your guts up on Valentine's night and then having to clean it all up. And of course The Voice couldn't really take care of me because he was still hurting. But my body wasn't finished. I ended up back in there several more times throughout the night. My stomach felt like someone had gut punched me and was twisting my organs inside out ...

Was there any way to save the rest of our wanna-be-romantic weekend?