Add Water and Stir :: Simple Thoughts

No Loose Ends by Thea Rashad

"The truth is, every long-term relationship-whether with a spouse, friend, relative, or lover-is
predicated not on love or trust or any of those other cuddly Oprah-ish words but on tolerance. You
learn to tolerate views, that deep down, you don't share. We all do this, every day. And not because
it makes us bigger, more generous people (as we tell ourselves) but because we need the eggs:
loyalty, companionship, intimacy. That's what keeps us in relationships."—Steve Almond, GQ Magazine
                                                                                                                                                                   (April 2009)

Resolution. That’s all we really want.

We want the mysteries of our lives—big or small-- resolved. Whether we’re
diagnosed with a serious illness, working on a graduate degree or buying a new
home, we want to know the end of the story. There’s something about the final
result, the outcome that’s liberating.

Most of the time we just pray it’s a happy ending. Sometimes we’ll settle for a
rough landing, if it means what’s done is done. It’s the unfinished business,
though, that’s messy, frayed at the edges and undeniably rooted in the
would’ve, could’ve and should’ve. It leaves us lingering in the shadows of the
past, replaying our history like a vinyl record—the crackling sound is the
nostalgia, the memories, the romance. But, the sound quality should be a
reminder the past is often blatantly inferior to what the future holds.

For the first time, this writer has no loose ends. No untidy places where old
boyfriends and lovers use to live. It is resolved. Her morning run leaves her with
a feeling of completeness— zero obligation for anyone but herself. There are no
hurt feelings, no misunderstandings, regrets or unanswered questions. She
knows who loved her most, who didn’t love her at all, who was grossly selfish,
who was brave but ill-prepared, who cheated and who did not, who lied and is
still lying, who lives in a place of fear, who wishes things could’ve worked out,
who wounded her and who she wounded. She knows because she asked.

Yes, a little maturity, introspection and courage will make you flip through the
pages of love and boldly ask: what went wrong? Graciously, a handful of my
exes were willing to take an unscientific survey. For my sake (and maybe even
for their own), they willingly revisited our “misty water-colored memories of the
way we were."

I’ve learned that I’m a pretty good girlfriend—great actually—fiercely loyal,
attentive, loving, fun and hardly a princess. Like most women, I can talk too
much or analyze a situation to the nth degree. Some of my exes fondly recall
how our relationship took flight, initially rooted in friendship or intellectually
stimulating conversation. And in most cases, we had instant attraction, kinetic
energy, heat and passion. One referred to it as “unbelievable chemistry.”

Despite my stealth-like or dramatic soap opera exits, all were interested in
remaining friends. In a perfect world, some would like to dust off our dating file
and write a new chapter. Of course, any good survey has a margin of error.
I’d like to believe all of their responses were honest and not just a feeble
attempt to coddle the bruised ego they might presume they gave me. But, it’s
possible.

Then again, there were some whose transparency was refreshing yet stinging.
One told me I was a mild co-dependent, another used the term “emasculating.”
Ouch! Here are two other unforgettable words: cognitive dissonance. It feels like
a blow to the back of the head. That’s what happened when Kevin, the name I’ll
use for this particular ex, gingerly pointed out my impatience and unresolved
“daddy issues.”

Ughhh! That’s the sound my stomach made. I never wanted to be the kind of
woman who went in search of a father figure because she lacked one of her own.
It sounds so much like Halle Berry’s post-David Justice suicide attempt.
But, I’ve learned my deep desire for a complete family unit was both the driving
force and the death of my relationships. It turned me into a helpless “fixer,”
capable of doing all the work in a relationship. What Amelia Earhart was to a
single engine plane around the world, I was to a dysfunctional relationship going
nowhere.

Kevin found humor in my uncanny ability to get a lot of mileage out of an
emotional retard long after it was time to throw in the towel. I’d like to say I’m
laughing or that I learned my lesson. But, the boyfriend after Kevin was a
multi-year rebound. A good guy that honestly tried, but the skill set for
manhood wasn’t there. His mother stole it at birth and kept it hidden in her
designer handbag. Regretfully, the girl with the “daddy issues” was ready to
stand in the gap.

He was the slowest to respond to my questions. And just when I thought his
silence was his response, there was a message in my inbox. When he finally
revealed his answers to my probing questions, I realized that self-reflection and
deep thought just aren’t a part of his fabric. It never was. It’s a place where I
live but he would rarely visit.

In all these cases—some I’ve mentioned and some I haven’t-- the love was
there. But, as a childhood friend’s mother once told me on an Amtrak train ride
home from college, love isn’t everything. She was advising me to get rid of my
high school sweetheart, a gentle jock whose mother still picked out his clothes.
In my humble opinion, the real issue for me and all my exes was timing and
maturity. Reconnecting with them—if only briefly—showed me that people can
change. People can choose NOT to change. They’re also capable of wearing
denial like cologne.

These days I’m not looking for the captain of the football team. There are far
too many people who mistake bravado for bravery and confidence for character.
I used to be one of them. There are men and women struggling in their thirties,
forties and yes,fifties with the framework of adulthood. Some of us are weak.
That’s not a popular thing to admit in American culture. Some of us don’t want
to take a risk. I’m learning that there are just as many men scorned by bad
breakups as women. If only they were willing to admit it. Some of us are
desperate. When loneliness is palpable, women will often settle or steal to avoid
being alone.

There’s a reason I’m fond of the movie 300 and the character Aragorn in Lord of
the Rings. As the legend goes, the Spartan 300 fought to the death. Their
charge was to protect their family and homeland. Aragorn started off as a
rugged ranger, but his sense of duty made him a king. Even in fiction, valor,
courage, chivalry, selflessness and love mean something. The men I’ve dated
have yet to mirror that. And sometimes it’s easy to lose hope.

Everyone says love is around the corner. But, it's a long city block. At 36, I'd
long accepted my soulmate probably wasn't showing up. No one's coming, my
thoughts would whisper. No one's going to walk the line. They don't make them
like Johnny and June anymore. These are not the ramblings of a bitter single
woman. It's not pessimism. It's not a loss of faith. It's the point where the
sweet high school romantic slides over and the realist takes the wheel. Instead
of waiting for a husband and babies, I’ve said I would commit myself to a house
and there I would raise a garden. I'd plant seeds of hope, watered by my tears
of disappointment and joy. The house that love built would be built by me and
my deep abiding faith that there is a plan--just not the one I had longed for.

But, I’m also a fan of Sixteen Candles. Molly Ringwald’s super crush on the high
school heartthrob Jake is every girl’s fantasy. When he rolls up in the red
Porsche, it’s like a prince arriving in his chariot. Doesn’t it always work out like
that? The reality is no.

Nonetheless, if I had a daughter, I would tell her that love is as random as
winning the lottery; that we'd need only to look at our own DNA for proof that
many men die cowards, spending their entire lives hiding behind impenetrable
walls that they themselves cannot scale. And that good, decent, deserving
people with the deepest heart's desire to be loved often die alone. But, then I
would tell her that she has just as much of a chance to hit the jackpot as the
next person; and that she should try her luck as many times as her heart can
stand because nothing compares to real love if you're lucky enough to win.

COMMENTS? Click on Contact Us and submit your feedback. We'll post it under
Comments.

COMING SOON...

Black Love By the Numbers:

Is the Ratio Really in His Favor?

"I’ve learned my deep
desire for a complete
family unit was both the
driving force and the
death of my
relationships. It turned
me into a helpless
“fixer,” capable of doing
all the work in a
relationship. What
Amelia Earhart was to a
single engine plane
around the world, I was
to a dysfunctional
relationship going
nowhere."