So, I have some retracting to do.
Remember the “flake guy” I solicited for advice as I move forward to a new future in love? Well, he actually hit me up after the fact and offered some authentic words of love wisdom.
I’m sure what he had to say will manage to resonate with a whole host of other single black females who have been constantly asking, “What’s wrong with me?” or “when will it be my turn?”
According to him, those questions – well, at least the first one – are leading to my never-ending cycle of loneliness.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, as he bravely tip-toed (if there is such a thing) into my interrogation proceedings. “But I think that you are constantly operating under the premise that guys don’t think of you ‘that way.’ So when a guy is dropping subtle hints that he’s interested, you don’t even pick up on it. And it ALWAYS leads to missed opportunity.”
I instantly thought about how his note applied to our relationship. But then I reflected back on recent history – a friend’s birthday party that happened just after Christmas. This guy she grew up with came my way and was asking me all types of questions about my camera and photography. He seemed like a decent (in a good way) guy with a nice personality.
“I’m not a photographer, I just take pictures,” I told him. Anyone who has read Black & Single more than once knows that I don’t have an ounce of game, and therefore shouldn’t be the least bit surprised with my less-than-charming response.
“Well, do you have a card?” he said, after initially laughing. “In case I want to refer you to someone else who might be having a party or something, or if you’re interested in any freelance work.”
In hindsight, he was probably trying to act like what I said was witty.
“I’m not a photographer,” I said. “I’m a writer who takes nightlife photos because it’s a popular element of the paper. I’m probably a mediocre photographer at best, other than saying ‘1, 2, 3 … smile.'”
“Well, maybe you know some people who are good photographers,” he said, in what I now believe was a last-ditch effort to get the digits. “And I can call you if someone asks me to refer them to somebody.”
I rattled off a bunch of names of people he should consider. He kept it moving to the other side of the party, and that was that.
It wasn’t until after my conversation with my former “near boo” that I realized that he was probably trying to pick me up. I wouldn’t have been opposed to him at all. It just really NEVER crossed my mind that this was his angle for the conversation.
“Also – and again, don’t take this the wrong way – I get the impression that you don’t think of yourself as someone that’s instantly attractive to the opposite sex,” he offered as a round two of “what not to do.”
“And therefore, you shoot yourself down from someone you might be vibing with because of preconceived notions that you think he has about you.”
It was a graceful way of saying that I have self-esteem issues and insecurities that are blocking any game that might come my way.
I came to my own defense by saying that my insecurities and whatnot are based on the experience I’ve had by being utterly ignored, from a romantic perspective, since adolescence.
“Come on now, Kenya. I know you,” he said. “What you do is – like most women – you get your heart set on somebody, or even an idea of a somebody, and that becomes your focus. He’s not interested or he’s not what you need, but once you’ve convinced yourself otherwise there is no turning back.”
He had a point – and he didn’t stop there.
“But in the midst of honing in on how this brother has initially rejected you or played you after the fact, the other ‘eligibles’ trying to get your attention never even manage to make their way into your focal point.”
Our conversation didn’t end there, but I want to let that simmer on your spirits for a week.
My takeaway was that in 2011 I must keep my eyes, ears and heart open and make sure the blinders stay off, even as I mentally field prospective mates.
