He texted me today–out of the blue:
True Friends – u cry i cry. U hurt i hurt. U fight i fight. U jump off a bridge i get a paddle boat and save ur retarded ass.
Hmmm. Right. So I said “Hello 2 u 2” and that elicited a lol. What followed was a series of texts of no real consequence except for him to tell me that he will get his mechanics certificate in another year and that he’s still working at the restaurant. He asked me how I was, how N and A were doing as well.
I always feel strange when he texts me. Why? ‘Cause I try not to think about him. Cause he hurt me so much that I had to go into shut down mode in order to heal. ‘Cause I don’t ever text him given how I don’t know his phone number well enough to do so without having seen it first. ‘Cause I knew that my comet was rising, ever higher in the heavens unable to bear the cumbersome weight of his denial and dependence.
There are times when his uncanny sense of “us” leaves me wondering. The past few days I haven’t been thinking too much about him but I have been thinking on things “desi” what with eating Indian food for my birthdayand the day after ;^D So why does he choose now to contact me? Does he remember that it’s close to my birthday? Does he just want to seek my approval in telling me that he’s accomplishing something with his life? Does he just miss me?
His last comment
“Aite suga i am gna jet take care gnite“
Doesn’t he remember that I told him once to never call me suga again? Doesn’t he remember that this was his nickname for me when we were? Or is it so ingrained into his conscious that that is what I am to him and he can’t help it?
Am I annoyed? Am I distressed? Am I angry? Am I frustrated? Sigh. I’m more irked then anything else. I feel akin to someone who has raked over the ashes of a past romance for the express purpose of setting it aside for healing purposes only to have it brought up again, and not by her! I sort of want him to go away and I thought that we had settled that esp when I never text; when I don’t call; when I have done so much (of course unbeknownst to him) to let him go and part of me would love to go back to that place of friendship prior to the tension.
[Tension is my new misnomer for drama. Have you ever noticed that whenever experts talk about pain/drama/heartache, esp in documentaries, they always talk about it as “tension”. Dude, when whites went on a crusade in the early part of the 20th century to ban cocaine b/c of circulating stories in the south of how cocaine crazed negroes went around with super human strength to destroy, pillage and rape whites–not for its addictive effects–this was not “tension”. When a woman rips into one of her guests in an upstairs room, descends the stairs to uncanny quiet and hears the static from the baby monitor in the living room with all the guests including the one she ripped into–that is tension! Then again, all the experts were white. Would black call it “tension”? Hmmm]
I could have let it slip through my fingers. I chose not to. B/c I couldn’t let it grate on my nerves. B/c if it bothered me enough to spend my time pondering it then it should be addressed. B/c I’m 30.
I texted back:
Aite be cool but plz do me a favor and don’t call me suga k? sleep well and greet ur fam 4 me.