Day 91 - Return

Thank you for reading.  The Days will return late 2014 early 2015.

That Beautiful Black Man

Day 90 - A Day To Remember

For those who were wondering...
     April some time in the very early seventies. This is the day God decided he was dishing out an ass whooping.
     "I'm going to create a short Negro (that was still kind of politically correct to say at the time) with the smallest penis of any Negro known.
     "He will be reasonably intelligent. For fun I will make him smart enough to know that he is missing out on something but not smart enough to know what it is."
     Whispering and rumbling amongst the angels; "Yes, medamn it," thundered God's voice. "He will have a name...Jamal...that's it...perfect. Small penis, big lips, bad attitude, brains. This should get him killed no problem."
     "If he should ever figure out what's going on he will be pissed. Who cares?!? What's he going to do? I'm God!!! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
     I'm guessing the conversation went something like that. I could be wrong.

89 - The Singles Scene

"Seriously?!?"  I said face palming myself as the new e-mail appeared in my in box.  This was just not my day.  It was a long day of wanting to get away but I wasn't getting very far.

Over the years there have been various dating disasters.  There was a disaster that involved an adult site.  There was a disaster 20 years ago were the girl didn't really want to go on a date with me as much as she needed a ride to the mall to meet the friends who really she really wanted to hang out with.  For anyone who is wondering, the singles scene sucks.  It is especially bad if you happen to be in your 40's but not for the reasons you think.  There are a few ways to attain single status in your 40's.

1. You get divorced and your life kind of falls apart.
2. You lose a spouse through some godforsaken illness or accident.
3. You live a life of relative irresponsibility and wake up to realize Oh Shit, I'm 40!

I fall in the last of the three categories.  I do occasionally get the question "Oh I can't believe you're not married.  Why didn't you ever get married?"  My typical answer tends to be, "Think about all the reasons you told yourself you and I would never work out.  You weren't the only one who told themselves that."  It is my not so subtle was of saying 'Why the fuck would you ask me that question?'  Most of the time I am being asked that question while being told about some marriage/relationship/hookup that has just gone bad.

The thing about being in your 40's is that the dating sphere opens up again.  When you're single between 35 and 40 there is a weird lull where people don't really know how to take you.  It's like when you hold a baby and you can't tell if the child has had gas or is in need of a full on diaper change.  People keep you at arms length.  If you're a woman people think of you as desperate and kind of feel sorry for you while at the same time thinking it's your fault.  When you're a single male between 35 and 40 you are a player who is almost past his prime.  You are the man-child who would be a good catch if he would just grow up.

Women over 40 who are doing well are perceived as cougars.  They don't need anything from you.  They bat away men in their 20's like children.  They vet men in their 30's to make sure they still aren't acting like children and they view single men in their 40's with intense suspicion.  As the single male over 40 who has a good job and the ability to maintain yourself you become a person of interest to women in their 40's who are in similar situations.  You will become a solid choice for the woman in her late 30's who is going through her first divorce unless she just wants a man who is young, stupid, and built like the Greek god of pleasure. You will be caught off guard by the attraction of women in their 20's with daddy issues. You also become a hot property for today's newest group.

The e-mail just stared at me, begging me to delete it.   There was also something tempting me to open it just to see if anyone I knew was a part of this latest, fast growing segment of daters.

Sassy, sexy, senior singles have their eyes on you!  When was the last time you were the you were the young man in demand?  Don't let their years of experience fade away.  Join Senior Singles today!

"Senior Singles, seriously?!?"  I said face palming myself.

That Beautiful Black Man

88 - Tap Dance

    "Soooooo," she said watching me stare into the nothingness, "you are beyond quiet."  I continued to stare into the nothingness.  Tony and Amber were all over each other and my favorite bartender had the night off.  I hadn't expected to see her out for a while.  I had avoided her calls and e-mails for the past month because I was busy with work and family.  She had stopped by to see her girlfriend who was bartending that night and caught a glimpse of me standing out on the back deck getting some air after my waffle fries. 

    I didn't approve of the new guy she was banging so I had cut myself out of the picture.  I didn't want to seem like the jealous guy.
    "I'm fine," I lied as I leaned against the deck.  Usually the breeze from the lake ran through my soul and preformed a little spring cleaning.  I was almost there but this set me back.
    "There are a few things I’m working through."  I mumbled.  The clouds glowed in the midnight moonlight.  I always wanted to be the better man for her but I just wasn't good enough.  There were so many questions that I wanted to ask but I already knew the answers and didn't want to hear them.
    She just looked at me with those big beautiful doe eyes.  I stared off into the distance and let the machines hammer away.  I could feel the metal grinding as the thoughts beat themselves into my skull.
    "Please talk to me," she said.
    "I can't," I said as I felt my heart beating in my throat.  I didn't know what to say.  I felt broken.  I was avoiding her because she had moved on and she didn't know I knew.  I was avoiding her it was killing me.
    I couldn't even look at her.  She was happy for the first time in a long time and it was nothing I did.  There was a part of me that didn't know what to do.  I felt my heart breaking as her heart was mending.  Things were going as they should.  I had introduced them to each other some random evening while she and I were talking.
    Once again I was the catalyst.  I was somehow helping her get where she needed to go.
     I was the gatekeeper.  I was the dead dog in the back yard.  I was the troll on the bridge.  I made sure people got across to their destinations.  Was this my destination?  Was this where I was supposed to be?  Did it matter?
     "You know I'm here for you.  Don't block me out.  I don't want you to block me out."
     "I don't want to hold you back but I don't want to let you go," I said feeling the small choke in my voice.  "I have to let you get all of the things that you need to fulfill your soul.  I'm still here, you know I'm still here.  It's like we're doing this little tap dance..."
     "Is that why don't you take my calls or answer my e-mails?"  She asked the question that she already knew the answer to.
     "Right now you're looking out into the backyard and feeling sad.  Right now I'm that dog buried under your favorite tree."
     "I..." she started as here phone rang.  It was the special ring tone she had chosen just for him.  I could tell by her reaction.
     "You've got a phone call."
     "Hey, baby" he said.  It was so quiet I could hear his voice clearly.
     "It's my...my friend," she lied softly as she turned away to take the call.
     The machines hammered away.  I continued to stare into the nothingness as she walked back into the bar.

That Beautiful Black Man

87 - More Unlimited Data

     “How do I look?”  Tony asked as we pulled up to the bar.
     “You look fine.”  I said shaking my head in approval
     “I just want to make sure I don’t look like I’m trying too hard.”  His phone buzzed.
     “You’re asking the guy in the suit if you’re trying too hard?”  I laughed a little to myself.
     It was Thursday.  Thursday means brown suit, brown shoes, brown socks, red shirt and a patterned brown, yellow, and tan tie.  I keep it simple, predictable, and good.
     He was wearing a casual blue button down shirt, jeans, and tan shoes.  He was still in good enough shape to pull off the casual without seeming like he was trying too hard.
     If I tried to wear that outfit I’d look like an old gigolo who spent two hours in the mirror getting ready.
     “What do I do?”  He asked starting to get a little nervous.
     “It’s simple,” I started.  “Be interested in her.  Be part of the conversation but not all of the conversation.  Be yourself.”
     “It’s hard to be yourself.  Man, you were single in you 20’s.  You got a chance to explore who you were and what you wanted.”  His phone buzzed again.
     I laughed out loud.
     “Most of us spent our 20’s trying to figure out what everybody else wanted us to be.”  I crossed my arms and rested back in my seat.  “You’ll be fine.  Worst case scenario we head to the Blue Lotus, gorge ourselves on sushi and sake, then call it a night.  Deal?”
     “Deal.”
     It was still early so the bar was comfortably empty.  In two hours this place would be a mess of bodies looking for drinks, love, and shitty bar food.  I wondered how this evening would go.
     "TONY!!!”  She yelled throwing her arms around his neck with genuine enthusiasm.
     “Tony!!”  Two of her female friends echoed.
     “Who are you?” she asked with pointing in my direction with a playful smile.
     “Me?” I said pointing to myself.  “I’m the suit guy.”
     “Suit Guy!!”  Her friends echoed again.  This felt good.
     “Pictures!”  She said pulling Tony in for the close hug.  He was surrounded by people who were not only happy but wanted to be happy and enjoyed that happiness.
     After the round of pictures were taken something amazing happen, they put their phones away and started talking.  Sometimes it's good to be wrong.
     "Is Justine working?" I asked the bartender after looking around for a minute or two.
     "No.  Her ex couldn't take the kids tonight and her parents are out of town.  Can I help you with anything, hon?"
     "I'd like waffle fries with mayo no ketchup, please."
     "Anything to drink, hon?"
     "Naw, I have a long drive ahead of me and I have to make sure this guy gets home safe," I said motioning to Tony.
     "No you don't," said Amber with that same playful smile.  "He's mine."
     Tony shrugged his shoulders and smiled from ear to ear.  All of his uncertainty and nervousness had been replaced with a boyish charm.  He was in good hands.  The happiness was contagious.

     I smiled and shook my head in approval.  Sometimes it's good to be wrong.

That Beautiful Black Man

86 - Unlimited Plan

     "Really?  Seriously?!?" I asked rhetorically.  "I have to listen to you whine about this bullshit again?"  I was trying to drive.  It was a rare night out for Tony.  He was in the process of getting divorced and had been flirting with a girl at least half our age.  We were on our way to meet her at my favorite bartender's bar.  The night was just at the beginning and my patience was already wearing thin.  I was doing everything I could not to be the dead dog buried in the back yard and he wasn't helping.

     "This is not bullshit," he started with distracted conviction, "this is important shit."

     "No, trust me.  This is your regular, everyday, shit.  You whine that all she does is text.  She's 22.  What do you expect?"  I asked shaking my head.

     "This is all new to me.  I don't know how this dating thing works anymore."  Tony said with amazement.  His phone buzzed again.  He flipped it open and started typing.  "Damn it!  This is driving me crazy."  His phone buzzed again.  He just looked at me bewildered.

     "I hope you have an unlimited texting plan."  I said trying to figure out why he was doing this to himself.

     "Holy shit!  She's sending me nude pictures.  Should I send her a picture of my cock?"

     "Only if you want to walk."  My stomach turned at the idea.  "There will be no dick pics in my car."

     "How do you manage this?" He asked turning his phone left to right to catch every possible angle the pictures might offer.  He wasn't aware of my most recent crash and burn.  He didn't know that I was hoping my phone would buzz at least once.

     "Manage what?  Not to send pictures of my cock to 22 year old girls?  It's easy."

     His phone buzzed again and he almost dropped it between his knees.

     "And," I continued, "I put the lock down on that shit immediately.  Have you even slept with this girl yet?"

     "No."  He said finally taking a deep breath.  "That's kind of what I meant.  I haven't slept with anyone but Karen in almost 30 years."  Tony and Karen were the one couple we all expected to be married forever.  Everything seemed to be fine from the outside but inside they had just grown apart.  They had been together for 30 years.  There were two adult children.  They were both successful in their fields.  They just didn't love each other anymore.  

     There was no animosity.  There was no anger.  There was no bitterness.  There was also no happiness, no passion, and no love.  This was the most amicable divorce I had ever seen.  They had just come to the realization that it was time to end things.

     "Ohhh really?!?"  I asked patience restored and curiosity peaked.  "What about the waitress at the colony?"

     "Blow job," he exhaled.

     "Kara, from HR?  She was all over you."

     "I was too trashed."  He said throwing his hands up.  "I passed out on her couch.  Plus it was a bad day and I spilled the details of the divorce."

     "Amateur.  Well at least you're trying."  I said attempting to reassure him.

     His phone buzzed again.

     "You know I tried to call her yesterday and it went straight to voicemail.  She shot me a text back before I was finished leaving a message."

     "People don't talk anymore.  They text.  What time is she going to be at the bar?"

     "I just shot her a message.  We should know in a minute."

     "I hope you have an unlimited texting plan."

     

That Beautiful Black Man

85 - Good

     "Look," said one of the kids catching me in the small kitchen of our office, "I've been reading some of your, your, what do you call it...The Days?"

     "Yes," I said trying to get the ice machine to work.  "I call it The Days."  I was a little caught off guard because I don't talk about life at work.

     When I'm at work I tend to put the outside world on the back burner.  I'm not the happy friendly guy.  I don't care what you did on the weekend.  The girls you're interested in don't interest me, they're too young.  The only thing they know about me is that I wear suits in a business casual environment.  He must have found this from looking me up on twit/face/sound/space.

     I am older than ninety-five percent of my office.  There is a HUGE gap in wants, needs, and interests.  When I have a bad month I figure out what bills can get paid and then I just go to work and go home.  When I have a good month I pay off all the utilities, get ahead on the credit cards, dump money into my retirement fund, help my Mom with her bills, and pay as much to the oil man as I can.  To keep costs down I try to bring in breakfast and snacks that will last me through the day.  It's always nice when a vendor brings in food for lunch or hosts a happy hour.  

     Most of the kids, as I call them, get to work and immediately begin planning what they will have for breakfast.  After they have gone to get breakfast they will work for about an hour and start planning what they will have for lunch.  When they have finished lunch and they have worked for another hour or two the conversation leads to what's going on that night.  I have to admit I do go out on Friday nights.  I head to a little dive just down the road from work but that's because they have free wings and I really want to sleep with the bartender.

     "So 'The Days'," he continued, "when do they get good?"

     "Good?  What do you mean good?" I asked finally getting the ice machine to give ice and water at the same time.

     "They're well written but," he paused trying not to hurt my feelings, "they're a little slow.  Kara read all of them and she loves them.  Won't stop talking about them.  I tried to get into in them but you lose me at the rain forest and hammering machines.

     "Do you have any particular favorites?"

     I considered going off on a tirade about back story and getting to know the characters.

     "Spell Check is a good one.  It's the first Paris story."  I answered.  "Yoga Class is another good one, too.  It's a three parter."

     "Thanks, man.  Kara won't stop talking about them."

     "No problem."  I said capping my cup.  Kara, even though she was in HR, was my favorite bartender's best friend.  The Days were about to pick up a bit.

That Beautiful Black Man

84 - Dogs

     "I figured we could be friends," she said.

     "Maybe later," I answered looking over to my car.

     "You know now that..."

     "I've had two dogs," I started, cutting off her thought process.  "One died and is buried in our yard.  The other one just up and ran away."

     She looked puzzled.

     "Any day I want," I continued, "I can step out, see where that dog is buried,  remember the good times, and feel sad."

     "I don't understand how this..."

     "To this day I don't know what happened to that other dog.  Was he hit by a car?  Did he starve somewhere?  Did somebody take him in?  Did they take him to a kill shelter?"

     I stared at the pavement then over to my car again.  The knot in my stomach had slowly worked its way out.  I finally managed pull my keys out of my pocket.

     "It's in my best interest to disappear for a while.  I don't want to be that dead dog in your backyard. I don't want you look out to your favorite tree and feel sad.  I don't want to be that puppy-eyed son of a bitch you feel sorry for because you've moved on and he can't.  We'll be friends later, when we can."

That Beautiful Black Man

83 - Laundry Day

     I love laundry day.  I work in an office.  I love suits; they get dry cleaned. 
I wash two loads of laundry on Sunday.  One load is six days worth of dark shirts,
underwear, and socks.  The other load consists of sheets.  I usually fall asleep on my
couch (single persons curse) so my sheets can make it the week, unless I have company.
     It usually takes me a month to get enough white clothes dirty to do a load of them. 
Sundays I usually roll commando in a pair of jeans with a sweatshirt or an Express zip
up.  That's right if you see me out on a Sunday (that's providing you do see me and I
haven't jumped out of your line of sight) I'm rolling commando. 
     Now that I've said that  I may go out of my way to stop and talk to you since you now know my balls are swinging  free.  Every time I laugh when I talk to you in that store aisle know that I'm getting tickled.  I love laundry day.
That Beautiful Black Man

82 - Too Late

     "The wedding was beautiful," I said taking a drag of my cigarette and
blowing it into the wind.  "I snuck in late and sat up in the balcony next to the
organist.  She was kind enough to let me have a sip of her wine.  Yeah I was back a
little far, but view was so nice.  It was like looking at a big beautiful picture."
     She laughed and shook her head.
     "Keep going," she said as she walked back into the kitchen.
     It was a warm Saturday and the wind was blowing just right.  I flicked my cigarette
off the porch into the small sandbox and followed her into the kitchen. 
     "The ceremony was beautiful.  The bride looked incredible."  She snickered
but I just hung my head and kept going.
     "I was almost a little choked up," I said as she leaned against the
counter giggling.  "You have to realize that I was really far away from the alter
and she looked just like you..."
     "You kill me," she said throwing her head back in out and out laughter. 
"You're lucky I like you."
     "I really don't see what's so funny about this," I grumbled.  "Do you
know how much time I put into this?"  I waived the card and small present in the
air.
     She was wrapping dishes to pack into the 'Kitchen Box'.  The rest of the house was
already packed up and loaded onto the truck.
     "Apparently not enough to show up on time!" She quipped packing the newly
wrapped dishes into the 'Kitchen Box'.
     I had missed it by exactly one week.  I showed up late for the wrong wedding and
didn’t realize it until they mentioned the names of the bride and the groom.   I quickly
left and drove to her mothers house.  I showed up in time to be late for the moving
party.  I was dressed in my best 'single guy at the wedding who will get laid' outfit.  I
was ready for a night of drinking, dancing, and hitting on bridesmaids.  It looked like I
was in for an afternoon drinking in the pain, dancing around the truth, and getting hit
by the bride.  I was kind of pissed because I didn't even get a chance to bet on the
wedding.
     "Shit.  You're right.  Not much I can say or do about this now is there?" 
I set the present and the card down on the one open space on the counter top.
     "That's why I said you're lucky I like you."  She was in a pink sweat set
with a red polka dot bandanna and a pair of white sneakers.
     "You know when I was sitting there, before I realized it wasn't you that was
getting married, there was one thought that was running through my mind.  Is it too late
for me?"
     I had fallen head over heels for Terry but she was still in love with someone else. 
D was comfortably living in the sky a mile above me for the moment.  She was happy.
     "What are you kidding?  Look at me.  This just happened for me.  I wasn't even
looking for it.  This wonderful man just happened into my life and things clicked,"
she said carrying the Kitchen Box to her Volvo station wagon.
     I had met Kyle.  He was a good guy with a good job and a good head on his shoulders.
Most importantly he treated her like a human being.  She felt safe around him and we
(her friends) felt safe with him around her.
     "So what the hell is wrong with me?  I have a good job, I drive a nice car, and
I have a few dollars in the bank.  What's missing?"  I asked lighting a new American
Spirit.
     "God, my husband would kill me if he heard me saying this but you are still the
guy to bang at the party."  I stepped back a bit.  It was a compliment on a certain
level but in the grand scheme of things I knew what she meant.
     "Seriously?!?" I said feeling the weight of what she just said.
     "What was the first thing you said to Kyle when he suggested that you find a
nice girl and settle down?"
     "Let me think..." I started letting the smoke roll.
     "You said and I quote 'There are far too many pretty 22 year old bartenders and
waitresses for me to settle down now'."  She stood with her hands on her hips.
     “Hey let’s get it right, I like strippers, too.”
     “You are an asshole,” she said enunciating every word.  “This disappearing act is
getting old, too.  It’s been seven or eight months since any one has seen you.  And then
there was the Paris incident.”
     “Marrianne I…”
     “I know, I know, I know.  You never slept with Paris,” she mocked.  Deep in the back
of her mind she was convinced that I did and there was nothing I could say or do to
change that.  She was going to hold this against me for the rest of my life.
     "Look," I said realizing I was defending my past choices, "I'm sorry
I missed the wedding BUT I will not apologize for the journey I'm on.  Things are
changing for the better.  As much as I would like to change overnight I can't.  I won't. 
I'm enjoying the ride too much.  
     "Things are going well.  I think I'm on the right track," I could feel my
voice welling with pain, "but you have to realize that every once in a while I will
be the guy who sneaks in late and sits in the balcony.  The view is so nice.  It's
amazing how beautiful the big picture can be even if it's not the right one."

That Beautiful Black Man

81 - Rock Bottom (Conclusion)

     Paris lay passed out in my parlor.  The "Hands" had temporarily rid
her of her pressing stress and gave me a chance to talk to Kiki in peace.  Kiki's almond
shaped eyes were hard and clinical as she told me about the past few days adventures with
Paris.
     I had seen Paris angry a few times I can only imagine how bad was when it was when
she was on a stem fueled tirade.  Kiki filled me in on the withdrawal Paris had
weathered.  She was trying to quit.
     "I knew she liked to party," I said leaning against my sink, "and I
knew things could get a little crazy but this is out of hand."
     I could hear the judgment in my voice but I didn't care.
     "What the hell happened?  What pushed her over the edge?"  There was a
small part of me that burned for a cigarette but I knew better.  I couldn't scream at
someone for battling with their addiction and then turn around and indulge my own.  Even
the judge needs a jury.
     "There was no one thing," Kiki answered staring at Paris's naked sleeping
body.  "It was like the entire world crashed down on her in a matter of two days;
her latest boyfriend went hard core psycho on her, she goes home to find that her father
has had a heart attack, and two days after she gets him in the hospital she totals her
BMW.  It's just been a great world of shit for her."
     "Well at least she's looking fit." I said sarcastically noticing her ribs.
"What's the name of that new diet Stem Fast?  Slim Crack?"
     Kiki just looked at me and shook her head.  She had seen rock bottom herself and
made the crawl up from hell and now she was watching her best friend crash and burn.  I
had hit a little close to home.
     “I’m just worried,” she started, “that she’s gone to far.  I don’t know if she’ll…”
     I knew the pain that Paris protected.  She held it as dear as some hold their sick
children or dying parents.  I knew because I held it just as tight.  We were too
narcissistic to destroy ourselves but just selfish enough to get as close to the edge as
possible.  If she really wanted this to end my phone never would have rang this morning.
     “Don’t you worry about her.  She’ll get through this.  This was her way of making
sure that we care, selfish bitch!  She’s too proud to ask for help.  If she really wanted
to end it she never would have called either of us.”  I said out loud.
     “You know what’s going to happen to her?  She’s going to find some great guy who
knows nothing about her and he’s going to sweep her off her feet because he’s head over
heels in love.  She’s going to tell him everything and I mean everything, and he’ll want
to protect her.  For a few years all will be right with the world.  You and I will just
sit here scratching our heads trying to figure out what the fuck just happened and life
will go on.”  I thought back to Caitlin.
     I could hear the judgment in my voice but I just didn’t care.  There are no clean
happy endings.  For the moment there was just Paris passed out in my parlor.

That Beautiful Black Man