In the spirit of not wanting to jinx stuff, I’m going to write this post anyway. What can I say? I am a fervent tempter of fate.
I met somebody. I will not divulge his exact age, weight or subtle qualities, but I will tell you that he’s a solid dude and I like him. His most important characteristic is that we share a kindred sense of humor. We laugh a hearty laugh together at conventional everything. With an artist’s fervor, we’ve thus far enjoyed adventures in our semi-everyday interactions. I know, poetic. He’s even inspired some very thoughtful poetry. *sigh, swoon*.
I will say also that he’s gorgeous, brilliant in a “I will one day take over the universe” kind of way and he’s not (at this juncture in his life) a serial killer. Yes, he has a good job he almost likes. Yes, he has benefits. Yes, he has his own place (I’ve seen no milk crates posing as tables or chairs anywhere). Yes, I’ve met his friends–none of them duds. Yes, he has full understanding of my “Queen” status and acts accordingly. Yes, he’s nice to me and I’m fairly positive he has no down low tendencies. He’s a good dude with a good heart and soul. A man’s man, if you will. Granted, we’re new in the game. No blaring red flags have gone up yet.
Surprisingly, I’m not in any rush to nail him down. Surprisingly, I’ve learned my lesson about allowing people to SHOW me who they are BEFORE I put on my rose colored acceptance glasses. Maybe it’s because of Aubrei. Maybe it’s because I’ve had my full portion of “charming and yet can’t get right” dudes. Maybe a lot of things, but whatever it is, I’m allowing myself to enjoy each moment as it comes. No. Pressure.
So what’s the problem Envy, right? Bag him up, take him to the register and pay cash, right? Make sure I get a receipt? There is no problem, per say. Except… well…except that he’s younger than me. Significantly. Technically, I’m not yet in cougar range. I have about 10 years or so to go, but still. Yes, he’s very legal (and not the questionable legal where a birth certificate becomes necessary when we’re out), but he is in his mid to almost late 20’s. In entertainment years I am also. But we know exactly what that means in real life, don’t we?
He and I relate very well to each other. We enjoy similar music. We have insightful and compelling conversation about everything from religion, universal law and just about every senseless pondering in between. We both make up words and phrases at whim and we both are fairly more than comfortable in our utter oddness compared to the rest of the world. This is either a recipe for disaster or a divine courtship. He reads too btw, which is a huge coup. When we’re together, our age difference isn’t the slightest issue. There is no gap. We have played no video games together (although *gasp* a questionable guitar hero session request has come up a time or two). This is either a testament to how mature he is or how immature I am–whichever. I’m almost sure it’s a bit of both. Still…
I suppose the problem is our stations in life, where age actually does matter. I’m well past the gratuitous dating phase that somehow manifests after 30 and a baby. I’m fairly clear within a fraction of a second if a male person is worth my time. A male person finding their way worth my time has become very rare of late. I will admit, despite my now legendary Sagittarian perpetual bachelorette tendencies, I am looking to one day be a mate to somebody…maybe add another kid to my brood of one… I would be a fool if I said he was in the same mental place I’m in–in that regard.
The question then must be: Do I continue to enjoy his company, knowing that he’s got some years before he’d be ready for what I eventually want in a potential relationship? OR… Do I file him in my “just having fun” category?
Let’s get a few things straight. I am not one of those women who makes decisions based on my biological clock. She is not yet kicking at my uterus. Some days I’m not sure if I even want to start at ground zero with a newborn. Some days, I’m fairly certain I do. It’s because of this that I don’t count him out simply because of his age. It’s because of all the other things that he is and he has shown me thus far, that this conversation is even on the proverbial blog table.
Mike Shawn and I had a very interesting conversation with Jimi Izrael last week when we discussed Jimi’s book: ‘The Denzel Principle: Why Black Women Can’t Find Good Black Men’. In our discussion, Jimi fairly laid it out that Black women turn down great “catches” because the lot of us set our standards to the point of fairy tale. Jimi said and I quote: “We keep kissing frogs, hoping they’ll turn into a Puerto Rican”. Yeah, yeah, whatever. He also talked about the need some of us have to turn male people into projects. You know what I mean. We tend to play–“find a man, change a man”.
Honestly, who has time for all of that?! I certainly don’t. But what happens when a really good guy comes along and a real life thing becomes an issue,like, wanting to be married some day and have kids and he’s not yet ready for that. Do we throw the baby out with the bath water, so to speak (pun intended)? Or do we allow the relationship to flow where it goes, if only to see if OUR interests change?
I ask this because, again, I have no intention of putting a great guy in a precarious position because I want something that he doesn’t. Sure, in a few years, he might, but who’s to say? Who’s time is wasted if I keep on path in liking him and we maybe fall in love, but he’s still not where I am? My *cough* baby making years are numbered. His *cough* aren’t–by divine design. Is that enough for a woman to count a guy out? Some say yes. I say: *shrugs shoulders*.
Let me also say that this post is merely a ponderance. He and I are nowhere near the point of even talking in serious fashion about marriage or children–as in–together. I know, I know–I’m not following Steve Harvey’s code of conduct. Some subscribe to the idea that if a man you like doesn’t want everything you want up front and center, waste not want not and go with God. Some women have willingly placed themselves in relationships with men who say–don’t want kids ever–thinking (stupidly) that eventually they could persuade these male people to change their natural make up (to no avail).
I’m positive, however, that there are some women, like me, who are enjoying the moment. Women who are not so hard pressed that it hurts something important. I’m saying. If all the other pieces of the puzzle are in order, do we stop playing, put the game away and wait by the door for the missing piece to manifest? Or do we have fun with the game for as long as it pleases us?
I will say, I’ve learned to follow my bliss a bit more than I have in years. Yes, I’ve somehow discovered a need for practicality in my choices. But I’ve also allowed myself to not get sooooo caught up in practicality that I stop enjoying the ride life comes with. People do come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. A lot of us miss out on really great reason and season experiences that may lead to lifetime ones because we’re so focused on an end result that honestly is in no way fun for the ride. Maybe that’s what Jimi Izael was getting at in his book. Maybe we women miss out on the goose with the golden egg simply because we refuse to stop farm hunting. Want to make God laugh? Tell him your plans. Hahahahahaaaaaaa…
Enjoy the ride. Easier said than done, isn’t it? The thing is, my new friend is more than just fun. Right now, he makes the ride interesting and complicated in the best way possible. His presence in my life has allowed me to smell the roses in my current garden more (snow and all). Most importantly, we challenge each other to be better–together and apart. We encourage each other. Our creativity together is nuts. What’s not to like in that scenario?
I have no idea what’s supposed to happen after that. I think though, by not focusing on what’s next, I am allowed to enjoy the presence of a good man in my life without all the extraness. Am I settling for less than I want? I don’t think I am. I think I’m enjoying a treasure that life has saw fit to bring me in this moment. So what that he’s younger than me. At least he can keep up with MY considerable pace. Besides, it’s not like he listens to Soulja Boy. That would be settling.
The moral of this story? Have we been properly introduced? No idea. Thank you for reading this though. Peace and abundant “age ain’t nothin but a number” blessings. Love, -e-