Moody Boy Fan Club

It just started out by getting random texts. Once I got a phone call just when I started my new job. When I saw his name pop up on the caller id it really surprised me. What does he want? Then it was the year anniversary of his mother's death, and I remembered. I wanted to let him know that I remembered. I do think of him sometimes, but on the whole I've pushed him to the left side of my brain. But still sometimes I think of him. I wonder what he's doing, how he's doing, wondering if he sometimes thinks of me, wondering if those thoughts are pleasant.

I used to think we would make a good team, him and I. Part of me still does. But a couple of years ago, I believed it completely. It was one of those "with every fiber of my being" beliefs. I was so flumoxed when he didn't see it. It was like everything I knew was turned on its ear. Like I was dropped into a labyrinth and hadn't dropped any bread crumbs to lead me out. It confused me to the point that I stopped feeling comfortable with myself, especially around him.

It's hard to be in a situation where you know something is true, but no one else believes it. So my main mistake is trying to convince him of it. That is the worse position in which anyone can put themselves.

They say women are attracted to men like their father. My father is or was the grumpiest, moodiest man on the planet. and that is who I find myself most attracted to. In one word, "curmudgeons". A friend of mine can be really moody. He sometimes says slick shit out of his mouth to me or to other folk. I can tell when its mood related and when I see it, all I want to do is mush his face between my hands and give him a big kiss right below his eye socket. (thats one of my favorite kissing spots. There, and in the area right below the ear). I wanna be able to give him a big nuzzle and let him know that everything will be okay and to let him know that I'm not afraid of his grumpiness. I mainly just find it amusing. (as I said, next to my dad, these dudes are cream puffs).

But one thing the Nigerian has taught me is that sometimes a nuzzle and a sloppy kiss doesn't always cure what ails you. Sometimes its a "here I am ready to love you, and you're pushing me away, and that is in no way cool. I understand, but you need to get it together, if it is me that you want. And maybe I am not what you want. And thats okay too. Maybe you can get it together in order to ready for what I have to offer. Maybe you never will be ready. And it is no one's fault and no one's deficiency." I realized that I am in need of some of that unconditional love shit that I am always so willing to give out. So yes, that's what I need. And I realize (albeit late) that love is easy, its relationships that are hard, and no one should have to convince someone they are worthy to be loved. That's the part that should be easy.

So I was finally able to let go of the Nigerian. I realized that I was taking on too much responsibility for that not working. My fearlessness might've been a bit much, but his cowardice was just a plain drag. So now that we've been communicating again, I'm reminded about how much we have in common. I'm reminded about how nice it was to talk to him. And in my more hopeful moments, I think , "wouldn't it be something if now we both got our stuff together at the same time." He being him and me being me, and if by chance we find each other . . .