How come whenever you say you’re a realist, people automatically deem you cynical, pessimistic? My guess is they’re hopeless optimists who hate for you to rain on their parade. But from where I stand, a realist is a person who has learned to strike a delicate balance between optimism and pessimism, based on facts, evidence or experience, adjusting in either direction based solely on what information was presented. Therefore, a realist can at times be optimistic if the situation merits that. “Yes, based on what I’ve seen, you should be excited about what’s about to happen.” Hey, it happens.
I’m stalling actually. That lead-in was just my way of delaying my declaration. You know, if I say it out loud or write it down, there’s no more denying it or living like it’s still a possibility. I mean, I had reason to be optimistic initially, but my hopes have been dashed to pieces by new evidence to the contrary. Sigh, there was a man. Well, technically there were two men. I’ll explain:
I was minding my business one lovely day, when I was presented with an opportunity. After several years of not being in or wanting to be in a serious relationship, several false starts, and being stood up repeatedly, someone was offering me just that–an opportunity to engage, exchange intellect, share moments, affection and the whole nine. Of course I had to mull it, because I had chosen to avoid matters of the heart and the responsibilities of being “Relationship Tonya” all that time. I was healing and rebuilding and finding my strengths, kind of assessing every aspect of me, and I was making sure my youngest was at an age where I could successfully date somebody without a tether attached to my boob, sort of.
So anyway, this man started something. It seemed promising until he just stopped talking to me. Like every day we would speak on the phone and text in between. Getting to know each other better. Laughing. We spent time together, laughing and stuff. It was refreshing, for the most part. It was also work. And then one day it just wasn’t. I didn’t get my morning greetings that day, but I didn’t really mind. Then the next day, and the day after that, nothing. I let it be. I wasn’t afraid or anything; I just knew it would be forced, and that’s no way for me to do anybody. So I let it go. My gut tells me he was met with a choice, and he realized I was not the best choice in that scenario. It happens. I’m an acquired taste.
Later that week, something funny happened to me and I reached out to a guy to discuss this inside joke he had made sometime before. I had no other intention but to share that laugh I knew he could appreciate. That turned into a face-to-face, which turned into a conversation that touched me in many places, metaphorically speaking. It was like I took a tour of his mind and discovered places I didn’t know he had been or wanted to go, and that intrigued me.
All kinds of pistons started firing in my brain, lights went on, and as he spoke with this honest, sincere, sweet and tender vibe, I got lost in the “what if.” That, I believe was where it began to sink. I haven’t finished hashing it out in my head yet, but I think my realist scale tipped too far to the optimist side just then. I just wanted what he was selling. I didn’t even need to hear the entire presentation. As soon as he offered me the package, I bought it. I put in a requisition for Relationship Tonya that day.
Well, obviously it was short-lived. About three weeks in, he sort of withdrew without warning. His mouth said he still wanted it, but his actions didn’t agree. I really wanted to move forward, go for the ride, with the wind in my hair. I’m so excitable, inside I was like a small child screaming, “What about the trip to Disneyworld?! You promised!” But he was clearly unavailable–physically, emotionally, mentally. I couldn’t reach him. I tried for a while, but I couldn’t continue to argue with the realist in me, who screamed at me all day every day that if he wanted me, he would reach for me.
My realist said based on who I am, in my experience, the top contenders for stealing my man’s attention would be something wrong with his mother, his money, or his marriage, or that baby on the way. Yeah, I had a couple of surprises with that married/baby thing. But those usually take any man off his game and ground him, so he can only focus on that.
What’s more awful is my gut tells me there’s something serious there, but it’s not giving me the answer this time. My new boo is gone, but I honestly have no real evidence to go on, and my gut is faulty. Can this get any better? Right. One day I just woke up knowing that I had to ease up off that whole thing, so I did. It was taking too much out of me, and it wasn’t like we had built up so much. It was just that I wanted the vision he offered me, and I was wide open from the time before, like maybe that had to happen for me to receive this and process it rather than swat it away. But what was the purpose of this exercise????
I’ll tell you honestly, I’m not ready for this. I cancelled the requisition, and I’ll revisit when–I don’t even know when. I have no clue what it will take for the next man to get through, but part of me knows it’s likely doomed already because I’m going to hold out on the requisition, go over him with a fine-tooth comb, temper my excitement, fight every urge to go for the ride, and there just aren’t many men built to withstand that kind of screening process and make it to selection. Sigh, again. It is what it is.
From the mind of:
Tonya D Floyd, Author
www.tonyadfloyd.com