Last week, I re-discovered my abiding love of R&B while trying to find just the right music to get me through my last hours at work before my much needed two week vacation. Whether old school Marvin Gaye or Curtis Mayfield, standards like Mary J, or pop-leaning Beyonce and Rihanna, I'm a sucker for it all.
In high school I loved Boys II Men as much as the next girl, but for the most part, I was an aspiring indie-rocker (I'd been in unrequited love with a friend for years who had an encyclopedic knowledge of all things indie-rock; I was trying to score points). But in college, most of the music in the office I worked in was R&B or hip-hop, and this is when my love affair began. At work, I was the only white person, and not knowing much musically about anything but white rock bands no one had ever heard of, I often felt like I stuck out more than I wanted to, but my fall for R&B was quick and hard, and my desire to somehow fit in wasn't a necessary condition. There's something in the drama of it, the sweeping declarations of love, the plaintive sing-song wailing of heartbreak, the often sexy as hell sensuality, the wanton disregard for self-care in the name of wild devotion to another, that registered on a cellular level. Those same qualities later drew me to Spanish music and even Gospel, but coming back to R&B after several years of neglect was like recalling a first, sweet love.
So, I've been hitting the R&B hard this last week. It really was an accident that I had an R&B playlist on Pandora playing when the new guy I met last weekend came over to hang out while I did some food prep and holiday knitting. I wasn't trying to set a mood. Yet, it weaved a subtle web in the background as we talked and got to know each other, and as the hour progressed, I found myself feeling more and more drawn to him, despite knowing that I don't have it in me to date two men at once or the desire to dodge my integrity around honesty and forthrightness.
I'm still trying to pinpoint what it is I find so maddeningly attractive about this new guy. He's shorter than me, not in the greatest shape (though his self-deprecating humor about it and willingness to be active anyway is endearing). He lost his job a couple months ago and is now working as a busser to get by. He's an artist with work exhibited in a local cafe. He is not, like most men, used to getting what he wants (in his words, "Would I be bussing tables right now if I got what I wanted?"). He is used to dreaming big and working hard and has overcome much. He shares about his life and asks about me in equal measure. There's a way his lips move around his crooked teeth that sharpen his words and make his laughter both resonant and bright. He's considerate and kind. Long, dark eyelashes sway languidly over happy eyes and his long, dark hair frames his face pleasantly. I find myself distracted with visions of holding back his hair while kissing him. All in all, he's not conventionally hot, but there I was beholding the beauty in him.
And this confuses me. I'm invested in another man. True, we haven't had the conversation about exclusivity, but I think if our situations were reversed, I'd think his attraction to another woman was telling. I have this sinking feeling that I am attracted to this new guy because right now he's uncomplicated and it's all confident flirting and bold moves. I know this territory so well and I'm so good at it that I slide into it without much intention. I'm not good later on, when the "just what is it we're doing here?" begins to form between me and whatever man. I don't know how to navigate those waters well, and that's right where I am with the man I've been with.
So, just what is my attraction to this new man telling me about my feelings for the man I'd be with exclusively if it were up to me? I'm frustrated with him, and there's nothing I can do to make things go my way. I have someone who is so close to exactly who I want, and the only option is to let go. This new guy reminds me that there are interesting, kind, available men out beyond the morass I've made of trying to hold space for a man who's on the fence. This new guy is an opportunity to press pause on all of it and get clear again on what it is I'm looking for, on what I want and need.
A couple days before the man I've been seeing left for the holidays, he called and said, "I'd like to take you out for a nice dinner tomorrow night." So, I'm thinking Soif or maybe even Oswald's. I decide on my highest, sexy heels and lowest cut shirt in blues and greens and golds that make my eyes sparkle.
When we speak a couple hours before meeting the next night, I decide to ask where he's taking me, and he mulls it over aloud, throwing out sushi, Thai, Malabar, all casual dining and not one of the nicer-type restaurants in town. He asks me what I'm interested in. Instead of saying, "I'm interested in you taking me out to a nice restaurant like you'd suggested yesterday," which looking back would have been a perfectly acceptable response, I say that Malabar sounds fine. I ask about what he's wearing and he says casually, as if the invitation to a nice dinner hadn't roll off his lips, "Nothing special." Again, inwardly disappointed, I mentally re-adjust my outfit toward the casual.
The dinner was pleasant enough, and we decided to sleep at his house that night. Once we've settled in bed, my arm resting on his chest, I start to nod off. It wasn't long before he says, "I like feeling your hand on me, but can we settle into our own spaces right now?" in other words, no touching. I withdrew without surprise or protest, I was too tired to care, or so I told myself. I tried to sleep again, but found myself smoldering, filling with resentment, and I began to wonder what the fuck I was even there for. A raw scratchiness crept into my throat at this point, which begged for the relief of a cough or two, which I stifled so as not to disturb his even breathing. I told myself to get up and go home, but I stayed, and suddenly the absurdity of the situation hit me.
He will always feel justified and comfortable in asking for what he needs, and he's accustomed to having them met. I rarely feel that way, and (shocker!) I rarely have my needs met. The very thing I was resenting so much in him that moment is the very thing I need to be doing myself. I have actually been dating a man who is a good model of self-care. And he's attracted me to him, a good model of how to care really well for others.
I'm learning that I can be the loving, need-meeter person I am, but I also have to be comfortable (and feel justified in) stating my needs, and expect that my needs are taken seriously and honored where possible. I'm also getting real clear that the man I end up with does need to take good care of himself, but he also needs to be curious about those needs in me that he can meet that make me happy or make me feel loved and supported. I must take better care of me not just because it'll make me a less resentful, more fulfilled partner, but also because I have nieces who look up to me and, Universe willing, a child one day who will learn from me, and I don't want them to grow up with the message that women are supposed to care for others needs first, and that men's needs are more important to meet than anyone's else.
I'm not sure I can learn to self-care better with any man around. I've already laid the foundation of my relationship with man number one with my sacrificed needs and willingness to try to meet his. The pattern's been set, and I don't know how to break it without breaking all of it. But I guess I don't need to know how, I just need to say "yes" to the change. "Yes" to speaking up when my needs aren't being met, "yes" to being clear about what my needs are. "Yes" to more sleep (well, not tonight, but soon...). "Yes" to me. The how will become clear.
On a hike with the new guy today I told him that I needed to get clear on what it is I want and what I'm doing with this other guy, but that I'd really appreciate his friendship right now. It wasn't so hard, stating what I need. It was a little hard to let our attraction hang in the space between us with no outlet, and we struggled with the weight of it for a while. But by the time we parted ways, we resolved to offer our friendship to another, and for now, I'm not going to let this blip of attraction to another man mean the ruin of my relationship with the man I'm seeing. It's a chance to re-assess and see anew.
As I wrap this up, If I Were A Boy by Beyonce is playing on Pandora. How comically apt:
If I were a boy even just for a day
I'd roll out of bed in the morning
And throw on what I wanted
And go drink beer with the guys
And chase after girls
I'd kick it with who I wanted
And I'd never get confronted for it
'Cause they stick up for me
If I were a boy
I think I could understand
How it feels to love a girl
I swear I'd be a better man
I'd listen to her
'Cause I know how it hurts
When you lose the one you wanted
'Cause he's taking you for granted
And everything you had got destroyed
If I were a boy
I would turn off my phone
Tell everyone it's broken
So they'd think that I was sleeping alone
I'd put myself first
And make the rules as I go
'Cause I know that she'd be faithful
Waiting for me to come home, to come home
If I were a boy
I think I could understand
How it feels to love a girl
I swear I'd be a better man
I'd listen to her
'Cause I know how it hurts
When you lose the one you wanted
'Cause he's taking you for granted
And everything you had got destroyed
It's a little too late for you to come back
Say it's just a mistake
Think I'd forgive you like that
If you thought I would wait for you
You thought wrong
But you're just a boy
You don't understand
And you don't understand, oh
How it feels to love a girl
Someday you wish you were a better man
You don't listen to her
You don't care how it hurts
Until you lose the one you wanted
'Cause you're taking her for granted
And everything you had got destroyed
But you're just a boy
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