Skip to main content

The Final Word on Mr. Wright

I've been trying to figure out why I was so willing to believe the line of jive that Mr. Wright was putting down. I'm an educated woman who's lived all across the country by myself, yet I listened to a man I already know isn't capable of either telling the truth or loving anyone but himself. If anyone else had told me that they were going through what I was going through, I would've called them crazy. Yet there I was, willing myself to believe something my heart knew couldn't possibly be true. What in the world is wrong with me?

After turning the thought over and over in my mind -- and watching a back episode of Private Practice -- I've come the conclusion that I just don't want to end up alone. When I was growing up, my grandmother was friends with Ms. May. Ms. May went to our church and lived on our street. Unlike Granny, who'd raised five children, Ms. May didn't have any kids. As they got older, Granny had us to come visit her, and Ms. May had no one. She died alone.

I always said I wanted to get married and children so I wouldn't die alone. Unfortunately, at this point in my life, potential husbands aren't busting down doors to get to me. Also, I'm facing the very real possibility that kids may not be in the cards for me. I guess I wanted to believe that Mr. Wright was really on the up-and-up so I could be that wife and possibly that mother who would have a house full of children and people to drown out the sound of my thoughts.

Am I saying that I'll never get there? Not by a long-shot. Yes, Mr. Wright is history, but I'm still optimistic for the future. And that's all I have to say about that...

*Look out for the inauguration post, coming soon*

Comments

Angela L. Braden, Writer, Speaker, Professor said…
Once you get back on your feet, you should consider adoption. I'm going to do that if I don't have any babies by 40. Ain't no way I'm gon' die alone. So, if I can't get the babies to pop out of me, then I'll go grab me somebody else's. That way, get love. And I can give the child a chance to be loved. It's a beautiful exchange.
Glad to see you writing again. This was a heart felt post. I liked it. I don't like what you're going through. I liked the writing.
AB
February 3, 2009 at 10:03:00 AM EST
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

He's Gone...For Real

My uncle died. He actually ceased to live. I don't know how to handle this. Even though he was my mother's brother, he was so much more than that to me. He was the coolest cat on the block, He set the standard that every man had to meet. He was the one I compared every man in my life to. For all intents and purposes, he was my de facto dad. I am stunned. I feel like someone knocked the wind out of my body. I grew up watching him. If he sat up straight, I wanted to sit up straight. I once caught him standing up to pee. I thought I'd do that when I grew up, too. (You can just imagine that conversation). That's the thing...he never shied away from my craziness. When I discovered what a father was -- at the tender age of five -- I purposed in my heart to find one for myself. I asked every man I knew, including him, if they'd be my daddy. He said, "I can't be your dad. I'm your uncle." When I pressed, he gently explained that he already had a significan...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Middle Aged Rant

I am single. I’ve never had a husband. I’ve never given birth to a child. I’ve never lived with a man over six months. I am 54. I’m not classically pretty. I’m overweight. I’m not very tall. My brother says I’m a unicorn. My friends are kind enough not to make me feel small. My mother mentions in passing that she wants me to find a husband. I try not to be sad about my state. I’ve lived a life that some would find enviable. I had my dream job, met and interviewed great people, made great friends, and traveled all over the world. I have a new career that I find oddly fulfilling. Men don’t always like that. Some of them are jealous because I’m not easily impressed. Some are jealous because I’ve done things they haven’t. Some are jealous because I’ve lived on both coasts. I don’t know what to do. I can’t change my life – not that I want to. I can’t change my past – not that I want to. I can’t change myself –not that I want to. I just want someone to see me, not the image I present. I want...
Post a Comment
Read more

I Own My Tears

I own my tears. I used this as a hashtag on a Facebook post. I was talking about the movie, "The Fault in Our Stars." If you've seen it, you know what I mean, and I won't spoil it for you. Of course, you know me -- it's deeper than that. I need to say it out loud... I own my tears. New Boo meant the world to me. He really did. Our relationship meant the world to me. It really, really did. And now it's over and he's gone -- seemingly for good. That makes me cry more than I want to, and more than I have ever imagined I would. And while I hate it, I need to do this. I need to mourn this thing in its entirety because it has truly changed my life. I own my tears. I own the fact that I am hurt. I own the fact that I'm mourning a relationship that I wanted to work more than life itself. I wanted to be a part of a couple, and eventually a family. That may well happen for me one day. Today, though, it doesn't look likely. So yes, I cry. And you ...
1 comment
Read more