Get In Line

A while ago, I dated a G-U-Y with no J-O-B. He was completely against type for me in appearance but his personality was so much that I ignored my love of chocolate men and shacked up with him like a tethered ball. We did everything together, obviously, since he had no formal employment. We'd see movies in the middle of the day or have lunch or go on walks. It was actually really simple to not spend money. In many ways, you can still have tons of fun and we did. But haters are always lurking and I had some friends who found it lame that I was aligned with someone on the unemployment line.

Look, we all fall on hard times and I firmly believe that everyone is just a lay off away from poverty and while I think what you do for a living is a large part of who you are, I don't think your job makes you who you are. The fact that he had no job didn't matter...well, much. I'll be honest, there were days when I didn't want to go dutch at the movies. There were times when it annoyed me that we had to count coins, but then he'd blow an incoming check on taking me out, making me have the kind of date night he wanted to give me with the funds he didn't usually have and I'd feel stupid. Ridiculous for ignoring all the qualities I liked about him and succumbing to the narrowed opinions. To them it didn't matter that we had more fun than all of their relationships combined-with far less money in our pockets. To them, personality meant less than the overall resume and possibility of a perfectly wrapped future. Nevermind that we were rich in other ways.

When things didn't work out and I was bummed, I was told that I shouldn't lose sleep over a dude without a job. That it was lame. And I moved on, not because he was a dude without a job, but because that's how things work. I've never been one to follow the crowd's appeal. I usually do what I want to do. Blessing. Curse. Sometimes I should listen, sometimes I shouldn't.

But what's funny is that this particular guy's star is on a serious rise now. Months after our demise, he became gainfully employed and all of his hard efforts began to seriously pay off. And, I'll be honest, it's exciting (and sometimes bittersweet) to watch someone talented, hard-working, and deserving get his due. It's even better to see those same people who told me to fall back, so diligently support him. Because while they praise him publicly, I smirk privately, on the sidelines, more or less as supportive as I was before the "fame." He was popular to me long before he was that guy to everyone else. And when he contacted me recently to show gratitude for my being there back when his chips were down (and he was a bit of a mess-his words, not mine), I knew he knew what I knew before they knew it and somewhere, somehow that counts for something. After all, it's a recession, and people should use it as an excuse to date someone for who they are versus what they do for a living. You just might find something worth more than a few dollars in the bank.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Friends Forever, Friends Throughout the Years

Author's Note: I'm having serious writer's block. Bear with me as I try and pull something out of my ass...

Years ago, I slept with a friend whom I'd known for years. We'd met at the age of fifteen, and proceeded to be friends for life. We're still friends today. Somewhere along the line in college, we hooked up. It was one of those random-can-I-do-laundy-at-your-house-cause-the-campus-laundry-room-sucks and after a bottle of Arbor Mist (hey, it was college), we took horizontal mambo lessons from each other. It really wasn't a big deal, but the time immediately following was the only time we didn't speak. I wouldn't say the sex complicated our friendship, but he pissed me off mere days after and I didn't feel like talking to him anymore. I did let him know I wasn't checking for him though, I didn't just stop calling, for the record. Anyway, fast forward a year and he and I started talking again. There's alway an underlying sexual tension, but I always chalk it up to the fact that we slept together in college, not anything current or presently pressing. Here and there a comment is made, a reminder, but for the most part, I haven't really thought about it. After all, there really isn't any point.

A week or so ago, I saw him at a party and in the middle of our conversation, he said: We've been lovin each other a long time haven't we? To which, I assumed he meant we'd been friends forever, which I think he sort of did, sort of didn't. I responded with a simple: Yep, we've known each other for decades. But then he replied: I love how you just toss off our history like it's nothing. I didn't say anything for a minute because I didn't get what he meant. How was I tossing it off? Was I missing the point completely? Does he want me to mention that we spent much of our adolescent years sneaking make outs and culminated with sleeping together in college every single time I saw him? That would just be really tiresome. It's absolutely possible to add sex to a friendship just once and then go back to normal. I'm not saying it should be a regular occurrence nor am I stamping it with approval, I'm just saying it's possible. I mean, I'm walking proof of both sides of the coin-when it works out and when the friendship ends. I've since stopped sleeping with friends. It isn't worth the risk.

But why is it that men claim they get over things, don't care, etc., but then always have to remind your ass later that they haven't, in fact, forgotten anything? To risk sounding like a cliche, "sh*t happens" and sometimes it does just that: happens. No need for further explanation or discussion. It happened, it's on the timeline, and it's over. And since they say you'll repeat your past if you don't learn from it, there will be no repeats or do-overs for this situation. One shot, one kill, that's the deal, so stop bringing it up. Friends forever though! Kisses (on the cheek)!

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Bro On The Side

A couple holiday seasons ago, I wound up having dinner with a friend's family. It was one of those nights sandwiched between Christmas and New Year's where everyone seems to have giant dining room family dinners all week. I was enjoying conversation and laughing with my friend's hilarious family. It was a great night with people who might as well have been my own family. My friend's brother, Sam, was engaged to a girl no one in the family seemed to like, Eden. She seemed nice enough to me, but I'd heard the stories about the craziness, possible mental issues, drama. Sam and Eden were sitting across from each other at the table. Next to Sam was Sam's best friend, Dave, and across from Dave, next to Eden, was me.

The conversations around the table were raging on, when a pause hit the table. It was brief, extremely brief, but it was just long enough for everyone to hear Dave say to Sam:

"Dude, seriously. I will go out and buy you a friggin Porsche if you don't marry this girl. I'm for real."

Silence fell over the table and everyone busied themselves with their plates of food. Except Eden. Eden glared at Dave like he was the Devil himself at dinner.

Sam mumbled something about Dave shutting up, but Dave had no such plans. He repeated his statement, with more emphasis. Sam made a sad attempt at elbowing Dave. Sam's mother coughed obnoxiously. His Dad said, "Ok, ok, Dave. You've made your point." And while the table sort of eased back into regular conversation after that, I couldn't help but feel terribly sorry for Eden. Through all the maylay, not one person of her soon to be In-Laws stood up for her. Nor did her fiancee dead the situation. Talk about the long road home, Eden.

But I also couldn't help but feel a major sense of respect for Dave. Every guy should have that friend. The friend that will not sugar coat it. Will keep you from making the mistake of your life. Will be the one to stand up at that wedding and say, "I object." Dave was that friend and Sam was lucky to have him apparently. A few months later, Sam called off the wedding.

He doesn't drive a Porsche, though.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Friends W/ Bennies Part 4.3: The End...

The phone kept ringing and finally, realizing this conversation would have to happen at some point, I answered. He didn't bother with pleasantries. Instead, he fired questions with such specificty, I knew he'd been briefed on what I'd been doing and with whom I'd been doing it. I sat and endured with a weird melancholy, knowing that prior to sleeping together, details such as these would've been given easily, or at least easier, for they would've been discussed between friends, which we no longer were. Steve didn't back down when I tried to give vague answers. He continued on until finally I said, "Look, I had no idea how you felt and you hurt me before. I wasn't about to wait around for you to do it again." It was wrong to place the blame on him. At least not the whole load, but it seemed easier than doling out details his brain wanted to hear, but his heart couldn't bear. The conversation ended with a thud, the sound of a clicking cell phone button that echoed as much as the clicking of a door lock.

And now, it's exactly what I feared when I first dove into this situation. It's strained. Where there was once an active love, there's now a passive, complacent one. The kind you have for someone you once cared about: you love them, but only because you once did, not because you still do. Where there was deep discussion is now catch-up conversations every week or so where nothing is ever said and everything seems stale. We are growing apart and I can feel it, yet I can't seem to stop it. Steve's competition has taken up space in my mind and maybe my heart. The time that was meant for Steve is now someone else's and I don't make a moment to settle the score with Steve. To try and reconnect our old friendship.

Sorry Kelly Clarkson, there's no such thing as a Beautiful Disaster. This one is just bad, real bad, Michael Jackson. Perhaps I knew all along this would be the result. But that could all be bullshit simply designed to ease.

Today, right now, I have no real answer. We're just sort of there. Unintentionally intentional about being whatever we once were and are now.

Whatever that is, was, or will be.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo,

Blackie Collins

Friends W/ Bennies Part 4.2

I kissed him in return, ignoring the shouts in my head, letting him kiss my neck and forehead. He made a comment about hopping in the shower, cleaning the city's grind off. There was a different kind of familiarity as he showered and walked naked around my apartment. It was the comfortable ease of a man and woman sharing a space, a bed, a life. I almost cried at how sad it was. How at one point, I'd wanted nothing more than Steve at the moment and now I wanted nothing more than for Steve to leave.

I was not all in. I was afraid of losing my friend, confused on my feelings for everything. Transitioning and figuring it all out. And through the night, I was haunted by the foreshadowing of what was to come. Of what happens when friends take up residence in the point of no return only to forfeit the lease and lose their deposit. I saw the nights curled on the couch, chatting or watching movies disappear. Walks in the park and piggy-back rides given through the park (so the rats wouldn't get me) fade to black. Steve was one of the most solid men in my life, but somewhere between toeing and crossing the line, Steve wound up stuck in the friend category. I knew it was a done deal.

I tucked the notion of most likely ruining one of the best friendships I had known into the furthest parts of my brain and did what I do best: ignore. Life resumed with a ferocity. This would be the part in the movie where a good montage would play the daily activities of life, set to a good Natasha Bedingfield song. Out with friends, traversing Manhattan with a pair of great stilettos and a hot bag, dating.

Dating.

Over the weeks, Steve's competition was steadily becoming the only team on the field. While, Steve had all but exited the stadium, he wasn't down and out. He wanted overtime, to block the kick, go for the extra point. See, Steve and Steve's competition knew each other in college, a fact I'd found out all but too late, and when Steve found out, he wanted answers. Answers to why I'd disappeared, took his heart and ran off, confused him, dated his friend. Answers to questions I didn't want asked, but didn't really have time to ward off because Steve's name was popping up on my caller ID.

to be continued...

Friends W/ Bennies Part 4.1

There have been several emails asking about my Friends With Bennies situation. A lot has happened, so here's the first part:

I was headed back to NYC, excited to get back home, sit on my own couch, watch the endless DVR, sleep in my own bed, hit up my favorite neighborhood cafe owned by the rasta, dread-wearing asian lady. I had lunch dates and dinner dates lined up. Happy hours to attend and friendships to resume. Particularly Steve. Steve and I were still talking, toeing the line between friends and more, trying to pretend there was no giant pink elephant teetering on the phone lines over which we spoke. Now, I was back and the promises made had to become reality. Steve had just moved into a new apartment around the corner from mine. He was excited for me to stay with him instead of he with me. I was excited too, but I wasn't sure if I was excited for the same reasons. I had been sifting through my feelings for him, trying to differentiate between loving him as I loved my MAN and as I loved a friend that happened to be a man. I was starting to feel like the latter which is classic B. Love the chase, hate to waste. I love the feeling of something blossoming, of the light drama of it all. The excitement. But I get bored quickly and once I get 'em, I start sabotaging or growing tired of the time wasted with them. Old habits die hard.

Plus, Steve had major competition. Nothing ruins a QB's season like having the next guy come in and take the team to the Super Bowl. I feared Steve's season was nearing its close.

But Steve was unaware of the possibility of a trade, so as soon as my feet hit the hot asphalt that is unlike any other city's, Steve was making plans. I was convinced I'd know the answer upon seeing him. He showed up that night and just as I'd suspected, the feelings threw darts at me, hitting hard, adding pressure, telling me the decision was already made. I knew what was to come and as he hugged me, I thought the words, realized they were hiding under the surface, ready to reveal themselves. He drew back and held me at arms length, going in to kiss me and the look in his eyes scared the crap out of me. He was all in.

to be continued....