There’s a saying that goes “Who feels it knows it.” Bob Marley and the Wailers even sang a song about it.
The truth is, even if you’ve been in a similar situation like an individual, with the same type of dynamics, or walked the familiar path of their experience in your own life, with your particular set of circumstances, you still may never truly understand why they do the things they do, and only slightly begin to relate to what they truly feel. We all think that we’re strong and that we know what we ‘would never’ allow, do, or put up with, but the fact is, when the moment of truth arrives, we usually surprise ourselves, by either being stronger than we ever imagined, or weaker and more foolish than we ever thought we could be. Before we know it… the shiny spotlight of judgement begins to shine bright on our decisions. The situations where that harshest light is cast, are the ones that involve our romantic relationships and the choices we make concerning them.
How can she stay with him? How can he stay with her? They’re wrong for each other. They’re so stupid…..A host of opinions wanted and unwanted (usually unwanted) 🙂 . There are relationships where the guy is wonderful, but somehow manages to end up with Cruella De Vil or the amazingly awesome girl (Me back then) 😀 ends up with Satan.
We all have this image of Satan (or anyone bad for us really) to be scary looking, freakish, hideous, beastly, so obviously bad for us in some blatant way, that we would run in the opposite direction, but what I have come to understand, is that Lucifer (Satan’s original name), was physically very beautiful to look at, and he came equipped with all of the bells, whistles and lyrics needed to entice us.
Trust and believe that when I say, as bad as it can get, (and it can get really bad), that one amazingly, awesomely, magically, beautifully, organically, intrinsic moment, can and usually does, cast a blanket shadow, covering every wrong doing, gut wrenching or heart breaking folly, rendering you momentarily, temporarily or unfortunately sometimes permanently insane or stupid, thinking that the situation you’re in is not so bad…
“I can fix this piece a shit thing, that is hanging on by a hair of a thread, with this ole angel face, killer smile, deep pockets, daddy long stroke Emma Effa.”
For women, (at least for me), there is only a certain type of guy that can tap into that power, and believe me when I say power, it is indeed a power. It is the quintessential bad boy. This is the guy that your mother warns you from, and you wholeheartedly agree with her knowing that she is indeed correct when she says this guy is bad for you. However, he somehow comes into your life like a thief in the night, then steals your heart , your trust and your smarts, before you even realize it’s happening. Suddenly, there is a tug of war between the love you have for your parent, the love you have for yourself and the love you have for the new man in your life, who’s now turned your whole life upside down and inside out.
New dude isn’t the Prince Charming that rides in on Secretariat, then marries you and takes you away to a cloud in the sky where his castle is. He isn’t the guy that loves you and only you and remains faithful, valuing your virtue and your undying love for him, keeping his manhood, safely tucked away for your womanhood only. He isn’t the guy that respects your parents and their wishes and rules. He is no one worthy of turning your world off of it axis. He is the rough around the edges, passionate, willful, tough talking, take control, charismatic, primal soldier, who marches to his own drum beat. A beat that is so soothing and sexy, that you feel as if you have no choice but to march along, even though he may be abusive physically and or emotionally, and makes you into a fuckin’ fool.
The sexual chemistry if it had to measured by a thermometer, would cause the glass to crack and the boiling mercury to spill down the sides. There is no way to explain why a woman would stay with a guy like that rationally, but alas, love, it is not rational and like Sade says, it’s stronger than pride.
The one instance that sticks out in my mind about the type of chemistry I shared with my ex, even today, was this.
I was a very protected girl/young woman. My mother was adamant that I would only make silly mistakes, over her cold, dead, corpse and was a force to be reckoned with, when it came to me trying to conduct a relationship with him. (We’ll call my ex Stanley). 😀 From the moment she saw him, she saw the dirt, grime, blemishes and flaws in his character, that love mixed with lust and naivety refused to let me see for myself. I never defied her before I met him. I was too scared to, but he took my fear away and a sense of boldness was instilled in me, whispering in my ear like my devil conscience.
“You’re a grown woman now. Don’t let her treat you that way. I love you more than anyone else in the world. I’m your man. Fight for me if you love me.”
The words of a ghetto soldier. 🙂
That me and you against the world, Bonnie and Clyde shit, can really make a girl think that her Ocean deep love, is comparable to his puddle deep desires of conquering her, especially if she was a virgin, which was my case.
Late one night, close to midnight if I recall correctly, he called my cell and said to me, ‘I’m coming to get you.’ Of course I’m like,…
“Have you lost your mind? Are you smoking crack? She will kill and bury me and maybe even you this very night, so just get that idea out of your head.”
All he said to me was.
“I said I am coming to get you now, so just get outside. I want you.”
You know what I said? I said ‘Ok’, like a damn fool.
Now how the hell was I gonna get out of this house? There I lay in bed, in just a t-shirt that barely covered my ass, and fear that covered my entire being like a blanket. I didn’t even have enough common sense to put on some pants. I guess I was still of the mindset, that there was no way I was going to get to leave the house anyway. My phone rings back about 10 minutes later and it’s him saying, ‘I’m outside’.
My mother was still awake, so there was no sneaking out in the cards. I was so very conflicted about what I was going to do. I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to disrespect her,… yet I was an adult, almost 21 years old, working, paying bills and still toying with the idea of sneaking out. Suddenly, I was pissed off. I wanna go see my man and I’m going to!
That’s what a lot of women tend to do, in order to ‘prove a point to the world’. They re-affirm their adulthood, acknowledge that they’re grown and can do what they want, leaving outside opinions regardless of how spot on those opinions are, to fall on deaf ears.
I slipped my feet into my flip flops, then bolted for a quick exit sans pants or skirt. The moment the latch was turned on the front door, it sent an echoing thud directly to my mother’s spine, and within seconds she was behind me. My mother and I had a confrontation on the veranda, and he hears us while sitting parked in his vehicle. He gets out of his car and brazenly walks into the yard and approaches us. My mom was saying,..
‘You are not leaving this house!’ with conviction and he chimed in,
‘Yes she is!’
I was like a rag doll being emotionally pulled apart. Then he opens the gate for the veranda, grabs my hand and says,
‘This is my woman and I love her. She’s not a little girl. If I tell her I want her to come with me and she wants to come, she is going to. You can’t do anything about that.’
Of course that was said in Antiguan dialect, in a not so respectful manner. He pulls me to him and says..
I remember the look of disappointment and sadness on my mother’s face as I stumbled behind him, with his hand clasping mine like a vice grip. I knew that she felt as if she was losing me and I was losing control of my own life, because, regardless of all the love talk between him and myself, there I was, leaving my house without pants, no longer under my mother’s control, but his. No one had ever told my mother what they truly had on their minds before. No one. It scared me, but it totally turned me on. I was like, my man fights for me.
*Side Note* this guy cheated on me, had children on me and physically abused me, yet my dumb-ass let ‘my love’ cloud my basic common sense. You could have never told me I’d be that stupid. The me now, would have smacked the shit out of the me then.
Alas, there is nothing like a man with passion. The only thing he didn’t do that night was scream out my name at the top of his lungs, but the rate in which he was going that night, (and from the smell and taste of liquor on his breath), if I hadn’t gone out to him when I did, he would have done what happened below……
The moment a man opens up his soul in some kind of way, especially if it’s dramatic and off the charts, it registers. Especially for a girl with fanciful thoughts of what love and sex should be like. I was never the candle light perfect room, Celine Dione my heart will go on chick. I like fire, and emotionally charged moments, with a splash of passion. I associated the type of strength that he displayed on that occasion, and many many other occasions, where he poured his soul at my feet, as love expressed in its rawest, purest form. He seemed like a man in love desperate for me, and I believed that he was sincere. There is nothing like being with a man in that moment, when his soul is at your feet and he is begging you to stay. Nothing. All of his wrongs, don’t seem so bad, and the passion he gives you after is something you wish to bottle and spray your self with, whenever he forgets how much he is supposed to love you.
Eventually though, those moments of passion become less meaningful, when his wrongs become wronger and more blatant and hurtful. Eventually you must take the power back, but boy oh boy will you have some memories in between the power struggle. Those memories will cause your cheeks to burn from blush, should a camera ever catch them. I do wish at least one of those moments, on almost every woman. It’s the thing I think I’ll smile about, when sitting in my rocking chair, when I’m 85 and he’s dead. The thing though, is to get out of our own way and get rid of our crazy notions about what we ‘think’ love is, and truly learn to love ourselves, and figure out what love really is, before we becomes used up old skanks, that just never figure it out.
‘A Streetcar Named Desire’, is over 60 years old,and must have been quite controversial in its time, because it stirs me to my core like hardly any movie can. It is most definitely a must watch. I don’t wish a Stanley on any woman, but I wish a sexy moment with a guy like Stanley, on almost any woman. Anyone who knows me, will see the ‘irony’ in this guy actually being named Stanley.. LOLOL…