Guyatus was instigated by recent events. I’m not angry or bitter. I haven’t sworn off men. I’m not building a commune for spinsters. I’m not quitting my job, breaking my lease and moving to Portland. (For example. Because who would actually do that, right? Not me. Hasn’t crossed my mind at all). This last little chapter was important to me. It took energy. I simply need time to process it and to let my brain relax.
I had a myriad of emotions swirling inside of me like a stew. And it takes time to pull apart the strings and figure out how I felt about the situation. Distance brings clarity. I was disappointed. No matter how old you are each rejection feels like the time a group of popular girls made fun of your outfit in junior high. You can still hear their voices loudly “whispering”: “CAN YOU BELIEVE SHE’S WEARING THAT!?!” But that said, I’m not angry or bitter.
One night while making tea and blasting Katy Perry (I’m not ashamed to admit that I love Prism – lots of emotional songs by Ms. Perry), I was struck with a realization. This was the first guy I had been on a few dates with who had read the blog. He had read posts about some of the darkest times in my life. He knew I had been sexually assaulted. He had read my verbal emotional vomit. And he STILL responded to my text messages. This was a first. (Mostly because this blog is new-ish and I stopped dating for nearly a year. I did not receive a ton of text message from potential suitors stating: “No thanks, girl. You’re cray af.”  Look up the slang people. Although, I’m Black and a millennial, I’m not your personal urban dictionary.)
Additionally, it was the first time, in a very long time, I dated someone and didn’t change myself to please him. I was just me. I wore the clothes I wanted to wear. I said goofy things, made strange faces, and used funny voices. I didn’t pretend to be into stuff I wasn’t into just to impress him. I didn’t try to shrink my accomplishments to make him more comfortable. Over the past two years, I realized that I like myself a lot and was excited to show her off.  She’s inappropriate and awkward but she’s also kind and compassionate. (She’s also smoking hot…well she’s a Chicago 7 but whatever. Tell your friends!)  I was busy being myself. It didn’t work out but that’s not the point. I was me and it was okay.
I had been worried.  I was worried that if someone knew all my baggage they wouldn’t even agree to the date. But my concerns were unfounded. I didn’t carefully craft charming, witty and clever text messages (because that comes naturally. ZING!). I cussed. I drank beer. I ate real food. I wore a t-shirt dress with a cat on it. (Which, by the way, is a fucking kick ass dress)
I had spent years searching and running. I had felt empty and needed help (which I got btw) and thought I could find it in another person. Here, I wasn’t seeking completion. I wasn’t seeking validation. I just put myself authentic self out there. It was just that simple.
Silver linings are often trite and unsatisfying. (Bad news? You lost your job. Silver lining? More time to do yoga!) But I like this one. Now, I need to find someone I like and who likes my authentic self as much as I do. Maybe he’ll want to help me bake cupcakes. Should I lead with that? No…okay. Probably not.
P.S. To those girls in junior high: Uh yes, I was wearing that and I LIKED IT. Black suspenders and denim shorts are totally awesome. Go eat it. (I don’t know if people still say that or whether they ever did…)

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