My Time, A Love Affair- A Mini Series

A Blog Mini-Series written by: AR Garcia/DominicanSoul- www.thedominicansoul.com & Rolanda/The_MissRoShow - www.chroniclesofasinglista.blogspot.com




A little over a decade ago my mother taught me possibly the most important lesson in dealing with women and relationships. As my parents went through a divorce my father easily moved on as I watched my mother suffer in what I can only describe as agony. I heard and saw my mother weep every night over what was now the death of her marriage and the end of what was once a complete picture perfect family. There would be no more family vacations, no more family photos. There would be no more my husband can't make it because he is working. Or my husband is at my son's baseball game and that's why they couldn't make it. Or, my daughter wanted to go ice skating so my husband took her but they will be back in a couple of hours. My mother would no longer tell her friends that they would have to call her back because the kids and her husband were all on the bed watching a movie that she really didn't care for but was down for it just the same because all of us were watching it. There would be NO more of that!



I got tired of hearing my mother cry through the thin sheet rock walls and finally got the courage to go into her room and ask her why she cried for a man who obviously didn't care for her anymore?

Early that morning in her room she was getting ready for work. Putting on her make-up in front of her vanity. I stood there behind her waiting for my moment and courage to kick in to ask her what I went in there for. Looking through the mirror with her eyes puffy from crying and she trying very fervently to cover it up with foundation, she asked, "Whats on your mind Son?" I asked her, Do you regret it all? "No" she said. She continued to put her make-up on. As I started to walk out she said, "The only thing I regret is that he wasted My Time and I can't get that back."

See I knew that she wasn't talking about us. She wasn't talking about the family she had acquired, the memories, the good times with him or her children. But the fact that he knew years ago that he didn't want to be with her and he so selfishly made her waste her time. She could have moved on.

But she didn't ever. She's a beautiful woman. But she never moved on. Maybe you can't move on after you've had Real Love. I honestly don't know.

This is a story, a mini-series if you will of a real Torrid Love Affair between two people...



I remembered love filled promises. All night whispered conversations about our favorite children's names. I remember long walks on the beach. Walks in which took place under worry-less circumstances. I remember holding hands under starlit skies and full moons. If we couldn't get to the beach you would make sure to find the stars in the neighborhood. Our fingers locked. Our smiles glued to our faces. Our souls intertwined and bound for a life destined for happiness. I remember our souls aligned and… and deep hearted laughter. Early morning phone calls to remind each other that we had something special. That we had something More than just something More in common.

You always preferred calling because you said you loved to hear my voice in the morning.
I remember finishing his sentences. He would give me a special nod to reassure me that he had finished my thought, you know.

We made dreams a reality. We turned our goals into a walk down the aisle, into a home, and then children to fill it all. See, we just didn't build a home. We built memories. We were rich with love and moral prosperity.

I remember the recitals you said you could never make because of work but always made. How you were there to see our children take their first steps right until you walked them down the aisle when it was their turn.

We took so much time to focus on our dreams and sand the pillars we had built. We focused so much on being a whole that we began to forget who we were as individuals.

I find myself after all these years with nothing more than memories. Something has changed. My love, is not the same. He, is not the same. My time with him is not what it was.

We don't laugh anymore. We don't walk anymore.

The tender whispers we shared have become idle threats and loud cries in the serenity that we built together.

Is it me?

I often ask myself that question. I ask myself, is it something that I have done? Maybe I changed. Maybe I forgot how to love him. Maybe I am not enough anymore. Perhaps, I am not as beautiful as he once thought. I've lost my intrigue.

At this stage in our lives all that matters is the time that we share. And what we do with that time. We have fulfilled all of our obligations to our family. Now its our time. But it seems as though he no longer can find the time for me. I'm filled with regret and frustration. Anger and disbelief. Pain and hurt. Confusion and ailments I lack words to describe.

Then I realize after much inquiry that it is not me that has altered the agreement we made to each other over twenty years ago. But it was Him. He's chosen to find affections elsewhere. To give his heart which he placed in my hands a long time ago to nurture and protect to another. He took it upon himself to bury the dreams and the memories. To tarnish the purity of what God blessed and our children benefitted from.

So he took it upon himself to put our love in a Casket as he galavants like an old-young fool around with a woman who couldn't be me if I taught her myself how to be so. He trades in his Queen for a Peasant in which he can stain and dirty the filthiest motel sheets adulterating money can buy.

There is no love.

Where is the respect that I earned years ago?

But, that's ok.

He thinks now that after all these years he can discard me. Destroy me.
He forgets who I am. Who I have been.

I am a Woman!

My name resounds strength.

My smile shines light on what is truth.

And my eyes tell a story of pride and joy in the middle of adversity.

Sure I am hurt and I am in pain.

But I will emerge from this just like I have been victorious and favored in everything else in my life.
 
So you go girl. You can have him. You can have the scraps of a man who I used to call a husband. You two together is just yesterday's paper on today's kitchen table, Obsolete. I won't be bitter. I won't let hate and anger consume me. Instead, I will wish you the two the best. And hope sweetie, that he doesn't turn your love into this grave that we used to call a marriage.

I wish most of it wasn't a mirage. I can get love back. I can laugh again. Maybe I will even cry over a man again. I don't feel like I wasted my life.

I just wish you wouldn't have wasted my time.
Because my time, is all that I can't get back.
TO BE CONTINUED...

We Are Living... SINGLE!!

As a single woman I'm learning that my happily ever after doesn't have to begin when I meet him. It begins when I let go of all of my preconceived notions and allow it to begin... -Me


I suppose this is as good a place as any to begin. I never quite imagined I'd find myself here: Thirty-one, single, no children, and not a suitor I'd care to mention in sight. Nope, not exactly what I'd envisioned. As little girls we're groomed to believe that when we grow up our knight in shining armor will find us, sweep us off our feet, and gladly give us his last name. In more cases than one, my knight in shining armor turned out to be some fool in tin foil, he was only willing to sweep me off my feet to place me in his bed, and in one case I met the woman and children who already carried his last name!

Now don't get me wrong, I've definitely learned some valuable lessons about myself and my choices along the way. I'd only be fooling myself if I didn't take some of the blame. There was the "bad boy" phase, and the "unattainable man" phase (I don't care to elaborate), and the "I can fix him" phase. Most recently it's been the "I met him online" phase (the jury is still out on this one). Either way, I have to say that I've played an intricate role in my current state of singledom.

Then there was "The List". He had to be tall, at least 6'3, after all, I'm 5'11 and love wearing heels (I refuse to bend on this). He had to have a career, preferably no children, be of caramel complexion, have a decent FICO score, have nice teeth, have a nice wardrobe that didn't consist of just sneakers and shirts with pictures and/or obscene logos,, he had to be a great lover, he had to be in shape, he had to be well groomed with regular haircuts and facial hair, he had to be funny, he had to have a checking and a savings account, he had to have a love for GOD (I won't bend on this either), have his own place at his own address, he had to love his momma, and he couldn't be younger than twenty-nine or older than thirty-five. As I've matured and stepped out a bit I realize that I've definitely passed up on some good opportunities because of my list. My mom and sisters have more than once admonished me for the disappearance of a nice guy who they'd decided could possibly be "the one" but that I'd decided hadn't met enough of the requirements on my lists. I'd simply find some way to explain that we were better off as friends and end up right back at square numero uno. My belief has pretty much been that just because he's nice doesn't mean that he's nice for me and that if I didn't feel butterflies, more than likely, that meant that the chemistry was simply not there. The more I think about it and the more men I meet, I realize that being nice is a start. No, it doesn't mean that he's the guy for me, but it's a great place to build from. I've also learned not to trust those butterflies. They always seem to flutter most with the guys that I should have steered clear of and I'm starting to believe that they can be better attributed to some form of gas or warning sign that my body is sending to advise me to drop everything as quickly as I can and to run in the opposite direction.

There's no excuse really. I grew up in a two parent home with parents, who like any other had their issues, but remained together and provided a sense of stability for my sisters and I. Since my mom remarried when I was young, I'd say I was blessed to end up with two fathers in my life who have been great examples of what a man should be. I guess it's simply been the way I've played my hand. I'm not complaining by any means. Where most of my married girlfriends have a fund for the kids' extracurricular activities, I have a shoe fund, a vacation fund, and a "I work hard and I deserve it" fund. Still, questions like, "Do I want to buy my first home on my own?" or "What's the expiration date on my eggs?" plague me from time to time.

So, in the meantime, I try to busy myself with me. I'm returning to school to finish my bachelor's in the spring. My sister, my girlfriend (she's single too), and I are starting a not for profit networking/educational organization called Sassy Sisters Inc., and I've taken up to writing this blog. I guess my hope is to kind of give people a peek into what the life of a single woman is really like. I get the questions all the time,Why are you single?" or , "You're too cute to be by your lonesome,why hasn't some man snatched you up?!" or my favorite, "What are you waiting on to have some babies, girl?!" I'm hoping that as I allow you in, I'll better understand some things about myself that will prepare me for what hopefully lies ahead. For now, I'm doing my best to savor the moments and enjoy the adventures and misadventures of a sassy, smart, sexy, 30something singlista.