Gills & Tails
“This sea world I’m in
Sucks your life out, leaving you comatose
Take back your salt and fins
Send me a lifeboat.”
Sorry for the delay in new posts.
I had to sort through some things and go live a little. Girlfriends are so important — I’m glad to have met two really good ones. Sometimes I forget that, for all of life’s and the country’s issues, having fun matters too.Where do I start?
Maybe with the fact that I was being a hermit again after giving Smooth Jazz another shot and ending up disappointed in myself. So, I disappeared. But eventually, I owned up to it and apologized to my friends for being nonresponsive.Luckily, they know me. They understand that I try to deal with things on my own — not because I don’t trust them, but because I’ve been called a drain before. Past friends didn’t understand depression or what it does to me. The worst part? I was always there for them — during their on-again-off-again chaos, baby daddy drama, and whatever else. One time, an ex-friend even threw hot sauce during a burrito blowout fight with her man. Allegedly, she was aiming for him. I caught strays.
So yeah, I tend to hide until I can put on a brave face. Although… my friends beg to differ. I have people now who want me to talk about what I’m feeling. Who don’t make me feel like I’m “too much.” I think I’m learning what real friendship looks like.
Which brings me to last week. J called me crying — full breakdown mode — about this guy she apparently forgot to tell me about. They met while she was camping. Nature did its thing, they vibed, and hooked up under an oak tree. She described it like a romance novel: golden light, toned physique, wilderness energy. Honestly? Sounds hot. I’m living vicariously through other people getting laid.
Her dog was with her — remember that detail. After the trip, they kept talking. Then she found out he had a girlfriend. He claimed they were on the rocks, blah blah blah. She even found the girlfriend’s socials airing out their drama. Still, he sent a whole novel about how he wanted more, how it wasn’t just a one-time thing. She believed him.
Because sometimes, when we want something badly enough, words are enough. Even if they’re lies.
Then in June… poof. He disappeared. The worst part? Her dog passed away the week after. He never replied to her messages — not even a “sorry.”
I told her I was so sorry about Cassie, because I know how much she loved that dog. Then I said, “Girl… we’re rolling into October. Let that shit go. He’s not worth the energy.”
She ended up sending him an ultimatum text: reply or I’m blocking you. Predictably, radio silence. The next day, she hit block. I was proud of her — though personally, I wouldn’t have sent the text. If someone ghosts you, they’ve said enough. But hey, she did what she needed to do.
J is phenomenal — smart, bubbly, charming, flirty. A little petite blonde everyone gravitates toward. She’s pretty much everything I wish I could be. So when she called me, crying from loneliness, it hit me.
She gets attention, sure — but that doesn’t mean she feels loved. Meanwhile, I cry from a different place. The combination of living with HSV and being a Black woman on dating apps? Rough. Study after study shows we’re considered the least desirable. I hadn’t been on a date in three months before the end of September.
When I finally did go out with someone, he ghosted after. I think I got a little too excited — not in a wild way, but because he drove a long way to meet me. And effort? Effort makes me melt. I guess I showed too much appreciation too soon. No second date.
Then came Oktoberfest — the event that earned J her new nickname: “The Little General.” She’s under five feet tall and somehow led me and our friend D straight to the front of the concert stage.
I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone. Honestly, I assumed J would be the one getting all the attention — she usually does. But then a 22-year-old asked me to dance. I blinked. “Oh… um, alright.”
It was awkward. I kept throwing “help me” looks at my friends as he pawed at me and kissed my neck. Again — this girl isn’t used to attention.
In the wise words of Anne Hathaway as Mia Thermopolis in The Princess Diaries:
“Queen Clarisse, my expectation in life is to be invisible. And I’m good at it.”
(J will love that reference — we both adore Anne Hathaway.)She decided to test him — tried giving him the look to see if his eyes would wander. Later she told me, “His eyes were focused on you.”
He asked for my number, but… I don’t think I want to be Mrs. Robinson. We chatted a bit, but it seems like he’s only interested in one thing. I mean, he’s 22. That checks out.
But honestly? It’s not just young guys. Older men on dating apps do the same thing — they just lie better. They list “looking for long-term” in their bios but act no differently than the 22-year-old.
It’s hard out here. As J said, we always think the grass is greener. She’s desired, but often left unsatisfied. I feel invisible, but crave connection. Neither side feels like the better one.
And now, as strange as it feels to write this — I have a date tonight. Shockingly. He’s married, but in an ENM (ethical non-monogamy) partnership. I’ve been upfront about everything, as has he. We’ll see how it goes. I guess I’m just trying to stay open.
‘Til next time.
PS: I’m still working on my piece about the challenges of dating as a Black woman — it’s taking a lot of research. But I didn’t want to deprive you of an update in the meantime. While you wait, check out the “Story Time” section in the nav bar. I love you, and thank you for being here.