I’m Still Looking For A Love Jones: Picking The Best Option
This series happens once a week. In order to understand what’s going on in the series, be sure to read the column, in order.
Christopher’s father came along, for the ride home.
I had several questions:
- Who dropped him off at the movie theatre?
- Did he leave his car, at the theatre?
- Why did he have on a suit? Where was he going?
- Was this man really on my date?
Christopher’s father sat behind us for the rest of the film. (How nice of him to let us finish it.) I didn’t watch one more minute of it. I gave Christopher the most incredulous stare, while he twiddled his fingers. He was scared to death of his parents.
I needed to go home and look at my birth certificate. How old were we?
We drove in silence.
It was a dreadful quiet, the kind that would explode once I’d left the car. I broke the silence.
“So are you headed straight home?”
After all, I’d come all the way here and I was GROWN.
Christopher looked at me, like I was insane, “Yes. I’m going home.”
I turned to the backseat, where his father sat, “We’ve been dating for almost six months, now. He brought me all the way here and I’d love to spend more time with him.”
His father snickered, “I’m quite fine with that, but his mother runs this show.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d had it up to here with Christopher and his family. Their closeness was something to be admired, something that initially resembled my own family structure. Now…it was annoying and borderline psychotic.
Marsha arrived at the same time Edwin was leaving. Their eyes connected for a moment and Edwin smiled something sinister.
She looked down and rolled her eyes at him, “Sup.”
Edwin continued down the hallway to take out my trash and head home and Marsha followed me into my bedroom. I decided to kill two birds with one stone, I was getting ready for an evening event and I was going to confront her about the text.
“So…you’re really seeing him? Cool.”
“I hope it is, because I’m not going to stop.”
She stood firm, next to my closet, she wasn’t taking a seat for this conversation.
“Is that right? Well enjoy it, because he ain’t ish.”
I pulled a dress from the closet, “How would you know that?”
“I just know. He’s a musician. He’s always on the road. He’s one of those.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Do you think that this would fit me?”
Marsha looked at the dress and shrugged, “I’m sure you’ve worn it before, why wouldn’t it?”
I started to put the dress on, “You know…because I’m a big girl.”
The guilt instantly flooded her face, “You know…sometimes you say things in the heat of the moment. I wanted his attention, on me.”
“You wanted the attention of someone who ain’t sh-t?”
“That was then, this was now. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
I put my jewelry on, “Like you didn’t mean the instance at the dinner table?”
She followed me to the mirror, while I looked at my attire, “I apologized for that.”
I was quiet. I had nothing else to say to her.
“I JUST DIDN’T GET IT. I STILL DON’T. I’M PRETTIER THAN YOU.”
I took a defeated seat, in my bed, “Wow. Seriously Marsha?”
She teared up, “You’re smart, Erica. You get everything, career wise. Everything good happens for you.”
I laughed, “Get out. You can’t come back from that one.”
Intuition is a hell of a thing. I’d seen the way Marsha cringed every time I received a promotion, how uncomfortable it made her whenever I was doing well. I’d always decided that I was being paranoid. I knew deep down she didn’t wish me well and I should’ve trusted myself.
I briefly thought about the validity of Marsha’s comments, on Edwin. They became fleeting when thinking about her disdain. I pushed them to the back of my mind.
I spoke to Edwin later that night.
He seemed saddened about the demise of our friendship but relieved that he and I could progress. I inquired about our upcoming cooking class, I looked forward to it and cleared my entire schedule for the day. He sighed, ” I actually have a show that day. It just came up and it’s in Los Angeles. I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you.”
…might there have been truth to what Marsha said?
I wasn’t ready for a boyfriend.
Isn’t the point of dating to find someone spectacular, to latch on to them for the eventuality of a relationship, a commitment, or something that resembles it?
I didn’t feel like I had any of this with Trey. I barely knew him. He was closed off, and when we were together he neglected to delve into himself, but rather our surroundings, work, and the script…
He asked again, “Hello? Do I have to make you my girlfriend for us to stop pretending that this, us, is about a script?”
I laughed and continued typing. I responded after finishing the last sentence, “I’m not ready for that yet.”
& as soon as the words left my mouth…I knew I was ready for it…
See you next week!