I’ve been thinking about The One Who Got Away recently. We’ve been friends for several years. He’s been there when relationships started and failed. He’s been there listening as things fell apart. He always saw the beauty in me when I felt hideous. He wanted to be with me. He wanted a family with me.
Why would he want a family with me? Why love me? The others didn’t. And I had trouble believing him. I ran away. I was afraid. Why? Because at least with the others, I knew what to expect. Sex. Lies. More sex. Even more lies. But if I opened up to the one person that took the time to know me the most, he knew how to dismantle and lift me. He knew all my dirty little secrets. My mama always told me not to tell a man your secrets…they could be used against you in the end.
He went on to have children. I remained childless. I began to think, “Hmm. Those could have been my children, our children.” But when they broke up, a part of me felt relieved because that could have been me…a single mom.
He met someone else. They are now living together. Although, they are not legally married, he considers her his wife. Before I learned of the serious nature of the relationship, I was ready to declare my love, my stupidity, my vulnerability, myself. But something held me back. He told me about her and how she treated him like a king. And when he told me she wasn’t a sista, I already knew I blew it. I’ve never known a brotha to come back to sistas after dating women of a different race. (I’m referring to specific experiences in and around me.)
Maybe we are meant to be friends. Why fix something that isn’t broken? All I want is for him to be happy. I wouldn’t dare become the other woman again. Because in the end, they will always choose the main chick. Been there. Done that. I am moving forward, not backwards. I’m a grown woman now. It’s time to act like one.