Yet Another Nigga Occupying My Psyche

I say over and over that I'm done with liking, I'm sorry pining after people who couldn’t give two shits and fart about me. I somehow continue to find myself in the loop of denial, one sided friendships and romantic comedies that don't reflect reality.

He was a papi who acted too good for everybody but I could see that he needed somebody, the way I did. My attraction started at summer camp. I got a job to be a teacher and overnight became the assistant director of the camp after some he said she said drama. When I first met him, he saw past me. Like I was transparent. Like I was a ghost, he spoke to everyone at the round table dismissing my presence. Two can play that game and honestly as the 2nd HBIC on the grounds as long as he followed my marching orders I didn't care if we were friendly.

Somewhere between ignoring him and giving orders he became sweet on me. Suddenly he had interest in knowing how my day was going and if I needed his assistance for anything, drumming up random conversations to tell me jokes. I hated that he could make me laugh. Because I’m a fucking SIMP, sometimes, this strategy worked on me and I began to fantasize about the beautiful straight man that didn't want me to lift a finger. It didn't help that I knew things about him already from the girl gossip going around camp. He sounded like a player but he also sounded wounded in the heart. I've been wounded for quite some time myself.

One of the girls who he was openly chasing after like a puppy dog literally paid him no mind. She gloated to us that he wasn't packing but that mouth game was on ten! He spoiled her with gifts and dates, even dropped a few hundred just to see her smile. She was worth it for sure but was I? The answer to my question arose one night while I was doing my hair in the community bathroom. Being on the leadership team we all shared a house and our rooms were literally two doors down from each other.

The girl whom he'd loved offered to do a braid or two after making fun of me for doing my hair sexily in the mirror but that's just me. Later into the night I grew weary because the process was taking so long that I went to her room to ask for more help. Her room which is directly across from his. As I knocked on her door, his door opened. He had a devious expression as he gave me the “shh” signal, placing a well manicured finger across his supple lips. I continued to plead for help with my braiding but she was tired and bid me goodnight. I closed her door with a soft click.

I didn't know what to do. He was standing feet from me with a look of desire plastered on his smug face. I melted on the inside but made my way back to the restroom to continue my hair journey. He snuck to the back door of the cabin, around the corner, shrouded in darkness. I hear "pssst!" I wonder if he's really calling for me. I hear it again and I know. He wants me to join him in the darkness. So many thoughts flooded my mind as I stood braiding in the mirror watching myself. This must be why he was kicking me under the table at the staff meeting earlier like we were the kids sent away for the summer program. Honestly, he made me feel like a kid. The same kid that pined over boys in school who toyed with my feelings only to chicken out at the last minute or deny their actions when when I asked what the fuck was happening right now. He certainly wasn't the first. I'm sad to say he may not be the last but that's a problem for me.

I heard the pssst again from around the corner. I debated for what felt like hours whether to stay or go. I longed for the moment when I could hold him in my embrace, kissing his pillowed lips and squeeze on that fat ass he puts on display via sagging everyday. I wanted him with every fiber of my being. My soul wanted to snatch his and combine us into one. But then I remembered, he never took me on a date, never asked. He didn't feed me raviolis in front of everyone and make kissy faces. He didn't hold my hand and chase me around like a love sick puppy dog. He hadn’t dropped a ban on me. He wanted to play with me like a toy. I realized that I wouldn't get the kind of treatment he was used to showing to a woman. I'd be a secret like every time before him. I couldn't do it. I stayed in the bathroom biting my lip as he scurried back to his room and locked it tight.

Immediately after I passed on what I guess was suppose to be a heart felt invitation for a suck and fuck in the dark, I regretted it. Because I did indeed want him but I’m so tired of being treated like a secret, like something to be stored away after a nigga plays with every part of me. I have to be honest, I only know he locked it tight because 20 minutes later I found myself sneaking down the hallway and gently knocking on his door. Had he opened it, I'm not sure what would've happened but he didn’t. He went back to ignoring me. I felt stupid and horny and righteous at the same time. Righteous because even though I had reneged, I still hadn't let him see that he had a hold on me.

To confess more, a few days after that night I lay awake hoping he'd try again and I wouldn't stand in my own way. I’d let him have me. But he never did. Turns out that was my one and only chance. Being a pretty direct type of bitch, we found ourselves alone again in the company car to run a late night errand. I brought it up. I wanted clarity. I wanted him to treat me the way I saw him treat the other girls. I said "so what was that the other night?" He looked guilty and confused that I’d even talk about it. Had he told me the truth I was prepared to suck that dick in the van but instead he lied and said "I was just waiting for my clothes to come out of the dryer", which is in a completely different fucking building. And who is washing clothes at 2 o'clock in the morning? Niggas! I gave him another chance to be honest. "Is that really the story you're going with?" He just hugged the steering wheel and pretended to not know what I was talking about. He mumbled, “I waited” and my heart sank. I wanted to say “I waited too”, but he had simultaneously denied the action and I was once again at a loss.

I wish I could say that's where it ended for me but I'm embarrassed to admit that he had started something with me. A cat-mouse game that I thought I had outgrown. After that night, our interactions became an estranged game of kindness and dismissal by one another. He was also the type to parade his efforts in my face, cuddling his honey suddenly when I entered the room, holding hands even when she didn’t want to be touched, etc. He isn't the first man to overcompensate for his feelings for me. Denial shows up in strange ways. I'm even more embarrassed to admit that though he was treating me like I was no one again, it made me want him more. I even sang a few Aaliyah songs in his presence hoping he'd try again but it was all in vain. I can’t tell if I’m a true hopeless romantic or just stupid as fuck for going down the same road after it’s marked dead end. I feel like the possum he ran over at the camp and then blamed it on the dead possum stating "I tried to avoid it, that possum had a death wish". I started to wonder if I had a death wish. Maybe I like having my heart fileted on the table ready for stuffing?

So nothing happened. Nothing concrete at least. To further my humiliation I found myself booking an air bnb in his part of town after camp ended, the deep hood, in hopes that now that everyone including his honey has departed, he'd want to see me. I'd convinced myself that it would be okay to be his secret. He could be mine. One night, I finally mustered up the courage to call him. It rang and rang and rang and rang until I eventually got voicemail. I didn’t say anything of course, just cuddled myself to sleep pretending my arms were his. I know I sound pathetic and thirsty as fuck and I was. My last nigga claimed they loved me only to break up with me repetitively, pack my shit, and wish that I’d find a summer love in a new city. To say I was broken is an understatement.

I was looking for love in all the wrong places it seems, in people that only saw me as a good time, something casual. But it's been months now since camp and since my ex made themselves my ex but I still hold these things inside of me. I want to release them. I want to love myself. I thought I did because I didn’t go the first time he "asked" but considering that a dumb bitch kept going back in hopes that he’d treat me like I was worth loving in the light, I guess I didn’t.

Either way, he’s just another boy that could have had my heart but threw it to the dust instead. I’m just tired of being stomped on. I’m tired of being offered sloppy seconds. I’m tired of being treated like the only love I deserve is in the darkness. But that's where I sit. In the dark, waiting for what I'm not sure, but I think it's love. And I know it's a thing that only God can give me, a peace that only they can grant my soul but damn sometimes I wish it came from a man. A man who loves me in the light and dates me and holds my hand while feeding me ravioli in front of his friends. But I know that here in my own little corner, my cuddles have to be enough. I’m learning to respect myself everyday and with that sometimes loneliness follows suit but I've been alone before, besides God is always with me. God loves me flaws and all.

I'll probably never talk to him again and it's probably for the best. I'm not over the thought of him yet but time will heal all wounds, even the self inflicted ones. For now I'll just keep practicing on loving myself which is obviously easier written than walking.

Song Inspiration: “Hard to Love” by Calvin Harris ft. Jesse Reyes