Seeing Ghosts

Ray Bradbury said his best advice for writers is to “not think, just feel.” He argued that if you think too much when you sit down to write, you become a liar. So, this is a feeling piece. Just me and my feelings sans Sangria. I’m taking Ernest Hemingway’s advice and not drinking while writing too.

It’s been a rollercoaster ride of a past month between surprise romantic overtures (if you want to call them that), to a friendship ending or being put on pause, to finding out surprising news about an ex-boyfriend that rubbed salt into my deepest wound.

First things, first. February was a pretty active month. I didn’t think I would have anything to do on Valentine’s Day, but I had a dinner date with a neighbor and an unexpected meeting orchestrated by my visiting friend from Oregon. So after my traumatic breakup with Florida Man, my friend wanted to introduce me to her husband’s best friend who lives in my neighborhood. Needless to say, we added each other on socials and exchanged numbers but nothing came of it for a few years. I’m grateful for that fact since I wouldn’t have been good for anybody. My psyche was in shambles for a while. She called me when I got home from my dinner date to tell me that she was in town and at the local bar most people in this area frequent. But she left out the fact that he was there. I put in clothes and went to the bar. Between the Mexican candy shots and whiskey sours, there were vibes. A little birdy told me that when we all piled into the car to continue the party at his place — he texted to say “I really like her.”

Somehow we polished off a bottle of orange flavored Jameson before calling it a night with people falling asleep in chairs. I slept in his room. We didn’t have sex…that night. But we did a month later after another alcohol fueled night celebrating his roommate’s birthday. So, your girl is no longer collecting cobwebs. I feel like there needs to be a greeting card for such an occasion. 1 year and 6 months without sex is quite the achievement. Unfortunately, we haven’t been on a real date yet. I’m still waiting on that. Although, I’m not too sure how much longer I will wait on that. I actually went on another date with someone else about a week ago or so. I wasn’t feeling it though.

The other thing that happened on Valentine’s Day is, my friendship with J hit a snag. I actually haven’t spoken to her in a month. It makes me a little sad but I think that space is for the best given the situation. She thinks that I judge her for having sex with people on the first date or no date at all. I don’t judge her because I would have no right to, considering I did that in my 20s after bad break-ups. I just wanted to feel wanted and like she’s told me before: “I need attention.” Sometimes that attention does come at a price. For me, I had to reconcile with the fact that I didn’t want empty sex anymore and that I never did. I just wanted to feel like someone wanted me even if it was temporary.

In Gills & Tails, I wrote about how she called me crying about the ranger, feeling used and feeling like guys only want her as a temporary option. Who can hear their friend crying and not try to help? So, I did. I tried to give some advice but whether she takes it or not, is always up to her because she’s 41-years-old. I’m not trying to be her mother or “control” her as she said in a lengthy Snapchat message to me the morning after Valentine’s Day. She snapped at me a few times prior in our group chat that has now gone dark. The first time was when she started talking about zombies. For those who are not well-versed in dating lingo: a zombie is someone who ghosts then rises back up from the dead like Lazarus. After telling me what a zombie is, she then says she wishes the ranger would zombie her.

What I really wanted to say was: “Fuck that guy! Stop talking about him!” But you can’t say that without hurting people’s feelings, so I opted for “You probably shouldn’t wish that. Leave him in 2025.” To which she snapped: “Don’t tell me how to feel!” I just left the chat after that and texted the third musketeer in the group chat separately. We both could not understand what the snapping was about. She apologized later but that wasn’t the last time. The second time she snapped at me was when I tried to tell her that I supported her decision not to go home with some rando she just met because it “felt too soon”. I told her I was proud of her for doing something different, whether it works out or not. If he doesn’t call, then he just sees you as sex. It helps weed them out. That’s all I said. To which she replied: “I don’t need your approval.” Ok. I never said you did. I was just being supportive. The third musketeer messaged me separately asking “What the hell?” The final crash out came on Valentine’s Day after she asked the group chat what we thought about a rando she was going out with who sent her a tongue flick picture while half naked. I said “Well, I think we know what he wants. I wouldn’t go but that’s your decision to make.” My other friend said the same thing. She canceled on him and went out with another random guy.

We had made plans to go to Sea World the next day. She messaged me saying she had to help him with his car that broke down. He doesn’t have any friends to help him? Why is that your responsibility? You barely know him. She then said “He’s so sweet”. I’m still not sure what he did that was “so sweet” but the bar is really low. She stopped messaging me when I asked her if she was ok since she just went radio silent; Until she wanted to go off on me…

As the whiskey and Mexican candy shots were running through me the next morning, I decided I had enough of having my head bitten off for caring about my friend. I think she’s worth more than being a roll in the hay, if you will. She told me she was tired of being seen as temporary but then that morning told me she was just trying to fuck these guys. She doesn’t feel used if they don’t future fake (Showing off my dating vernacular). In my humble opinion, it’s using you for sex whether they cop to it or not. I simply said if you’re ok with it, then be ok with it. I don’t really have the capacity to hear you whine about it. It was at this point she told me that she would never treat a friend like that. Maybe it was a tad harsh but if I’m going to keep getting snapped at for caring, I’m definitely not cosigning anything. I haven’t spoken to her since. When I asked my best friend of 25 years about this, she said “You kept it too real.” But I thought about the time I had my meltdown in Vegas and my best friend kept it too real with me; I didn’t like it and we didn’t talk for about a year and a half. But we found our way back to each other. Maybe this situation will be the same. Maybe it won’t. Only time will tell.

Lastly, I went to go see Miguel last night with my friend at SDSU. It was last minute but so worth it. When I got home, I saw that I had a surprise watcher in my Instagram story. It was the guy who broke up with me at the start of the pandemic and inspired me to start this blog. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. I feel like maybe he was bored and came across his “People you may know” or maybe he was just curious to see how I was. I’m not quite sure why he cares to know what I’m up to. After a deep dive, I discovered that he’s potentially married now and has a baby. Maybe he’s looking for validation that he made the right choice since I’m still single? Maybe. I’ll never know why. The only thing I do know is that I felt my heart sink all over again. I did love him, even though I was unfaithful to him when he disappeared on me for five days in the beginning of our relationship (I’m not proud of it); And I wanted to share my love for him with the world. I wanted all of the pictures. Him? Not so much. I came across a New Year’s Eve picture of him and his maybe wife. I just remembered how he didn’t want to take a picture with me on New Year’s Eve, as if he was ashamed to be with me. It made me think of 8 Mile and how he could do all of the things he wouldn’t do for me, with the Latinas after me. It stings that I have to ask: Am I being shown that because I’m a Black woman, I’m not worthy of being shown love in that way? I’m trying hard not to think about it, but it does make me wonder. Living in San Diego, the white girls and the Latinas definitely have the dating pool on lock.

I’m dealing with all of this while there’s changes afoot at work and I am trying to change careers. Lovely. I’m dancing with the bones of my buried past while trying to plan for the future.