Alright, here is one of my throwaway manuscript excerpts. One that bothers me on a deep level (probably the reason I printed it, balled it up, and kicked it across the room a while ago... I'll explain following the exerpt.) So this is for you, Dazz... you Caramel Cutie....
Excerpt: My main character Vaughn waking up in the morning...
"Samuel, baby, could you please turn off the alarm?” I moaned, as I did every morning. I gathered the soft Egyptian cotton sheets around my body and buried my face deeper into the pillow. He usually caught it by the fourth beep, but sometimes he let it keep beeping, just to mess with me.
“Samuel, please, get that! Hit the snooze button. Ten more minutes, please!” I was bracing myself for his antics… some tickling, some grabbing, some kicking. He didn’t do any of that. He was unusually quiet.
“Uggh!” I groaned. I rolled over to get the alarm myself. This always turned out to be a good thing because I would have to roll over his warm massive body and be enveloped in a big sensual hug. Sometimes he would hit the snooze button while he held me and we’d just lie there and talk. Other times we made the sweetest love.
But today, I rolled over only to stare at blank empty space.
Dark empty space.
It alarmed me more than the insistent clamor of the alarm clock.
Samuel wasn’t here in my bed. I only dreamt that he was.
It was as if a light switch had been flipped. The dream had been turned off, and I was left with the monotonous whir of the ceiling fan.
“You will not cry this morning,” I said aloud to myself. “You won’t. Not today.”
But the pain was there, standing strong in the midst of my heart. Pain had been following me all weekend long, whispering and nudging nonstop, reminding me of how much I missed him.
Reminding me of how much I yearned for him.
“No, you’re not going to cry this morning. Not this morning.”
And now it was Monday morning, three whole days since I’d last seen or talked to Samuel. And that Monday morning, unlike the past two mornings, I did not cry. The only way I kept the monkey off my back was to remind myself that Samuel had hurt me.
The pain was replaced by anger then, if only for a moment.
But only for a moment.
Oh yes, the pain would crouch in a dusty corner of my heart, as if on a much deserved coffee break. But it would quickly return, refreshed and ready, in bright bold technicolor.
I raised up on my forearms and placed my face in my hands. “I am not supposed to be feeling like this. I am supposed to hate you, Samuel,” I declared.
Okay, enough of that...
So, sometime in late December, the "Caramel Cutie" tells me something late one night on the phone.
"LadyLee, you're emotionally distant."
I held the phone, Thought about what he said.
And I agreed with him. And that threw him for a loop.
Yeah, I am emotionally distant. But is that a sin or something? I don't think so. I don't get emotionally caught up, especially with negroes that I have no business getting caught up with. I think once a person gets a certain age, then some maturity should kick in somewhere.
I often look back at my twenties, and analyzed my behavior. This is not difficult to do, since I do have a few journals I kept in my twenties. I see a common thread. I always had weird agendas (common back then, but alas, weird to me now.)
I was one of the types, and I know a lot of ladies will admit this... I'd meet a dude, and make my decisions and get my agenda together real quick if I liked him.
"Yeah, I'ma do him."
So what if he has bad credit. So what if he has too many baby mamas. So what if he can't keep a job. So what if he is abusive. Who cares if he can't keep a job.
Don't matter. I was always thinking...
"Yeah, I'ma do him!"
Fast forward. I'm in my mid-thirties now. Have had several relationships. Been married, even. And I can see a common thread. I knew I had no business dealing with certain dudes, but um, it wasn't important. I could cut loose when it was time to cut loose, right?
I would end up feeling the way that my character Vaughn was feeling above... walking around all upset, shut up in the house, crying for days...
... Trying to pull myself together, convincing myself not to cry, trying to stifle the pain of it all.
In other words, dealing with the effects of emotional attachment and trying to let go.
So as a result, being the emotionally extreme female that I am (I'm black and white about a lot of stuff; there's no gray area), I stay on the other side of the spectrum.
I choose to remain emotionally distant.
Am I wrong for that? No. It's my perogative. Am I still aching over some past lost love? No. My life is better since the dead weight has been removed.
I'm just older and smarter now. If I see an issue that irks me straight out, I don't overlook it, and I sure as hell ain't down for trying to change people. Heck, I got too much self-help and assessment I need to work out for my ownself as it is...
But that's just me... If I can help, I'm not gonna end up crying...