It Wasn’t My Race???

Sorry for not posting regularly. This is my last semester in grad school. I’ve also been putting the final touches on my poetry and prose collection, the chaos of longing. It’s frustrating but exciting becoming an indie author. Buy my book when it comes out. I need light bill money. Ha! The poetry is relatable, lusty, heartbreaking, and honest—sans humor. It’s kinda like this blog but with metaphors and not as wordy. Follow @_kyrobinson on Instagram or go to kyrobinson.net to view excerpts.

Anywho. Back to the subject at hand.

About 3 months ago I was lonely and feeling a bit ravenous. I hopped in the shower, shaved (everywhere), and oiled my body until I was glistening like Lupita Nyong’o! I asked Soothed if I could come over. It was quite late and I figured I didn’t have to spell out my intentions.

I sat on the couch as he played Dungeon and Dragons on his PC. After a few excruciating minutes he started up the Netflix. I just knew that the “Chill” part was right around the corner. Yes! Do me baby! (RIP to Prince though.) Usually around the 10 or 20-minute mark he’s discovering my right nipple.  I’ve relied on this fact for years.

THE CHILL NEVER CAME!  THE NIPPLE WAS NEVER FREED!

I gave him the light touches he couldn’t resist. I made sexual innuendos. I gave him the come hither stare. The cleavage was sitting high and looking ripe. Nothing worked. I even said that I was horny as a last ditch effort.

54966587

Come on! It’s right there! Touch it. Touch it.

He was not catching what I was pitching. Awkward.

Towards the end of the movie, he received a text message and replied. By the next alert he’s lighting up like a Christmas tree. Awkwardness filled the room. He must have felt it too. He put his phone away and rejoined me on the couch.

I got up to use his bathroom. When I returned, he was back on his phone! He came back to the couch and claimed he was sleepy. I knew that was a lie. He made a production of it too. He yawned and laid his head on my shoulder. I told him I would go and let him get some rest. He told me to stay. He put on a new movie but continued to work on his craft. This Oscar unworthy performance was getting ridiculous. I took the hint and my ass back upstairs!

I remembered this behavior. When he met his ex, he became very distant. I decided to never speak to him again after that night. We crossed paths a couple of times but I pretended not to see him.

I couldn’t pretend that he didn’t exist yesterday.

My car stalled at an intersection during rush hour. I felt emotional, alone, and sweating like a pig in the Texas heat. A tow truck was being dispatched within the hour. Soothed saw me and pulled over. He got in my car and sat on the passenger side. I began to cry. He was the only person to stop. He told me that he didn’t know much about cars but would sit with me for a while.

He apologized for his behavior a few months ago and gave me an explanation that I already knew. He has a new girlfriend. He met her online and it was getting serious. So serious that he’s moving in with her. He asked if I wanted to see a picture of her. Of out curiosity I said yes. The pic took me by complete surprise.

She was black.

All this time I thought that he didn’t want to purse a relationship with me because I was black. I never threw the race card in his face but I took what he told me as prejudicial. Now I’m aware that it wasn’t my race; it was just me as a person. There was some relief but I also wondered why I wasn’t good enough. I guess he saw something in her in these past few months that he never saw in me for 5+ years.

Story of my life. Go figure.

I didn’t reveal those feelings though. I was just grateful that he was there for me in a moment when I felt so completely alone. Fridays is Dungeon and Dragons game night and he was running late. We shared a few gut busting laughs. He gushed about her  in between. Before leaving he said, “I love you sweetie. Text me to let me know you made it home safe.” At that moment I recalled what he told me a few years ago—some people are just meant to be friends.

Update: Surgery, Recovery & More

As some of you may know, I had my myomectomy on Feburary 12th. A new fibroid was discovered and the surgeons were able to remove a 5cm tumor and two more that were half that size. The biggest one (7cm) was left behind. The doctor said that I would have lost my uterus if it was removed. He also said that after I’ve healed completely I need to aggressively have a baby because time is running out. Once I give birth my uterus has to be removed.

I suppose the news isn’t surprising but still saddening nonetheless. Another doctor said that I needed to have a baby due to the severity of my fibroids a few year back. I guess a part of me was waiting on my knight in shining amour to sweep me off my feet and have babies with me but maybe I need to let that dream go. Maybe I just need to go ahead and become another single black mother statistic. Is there a “be my baby daddy” website out there? I honesty don’t know what to do at this point. Maybe I’ll gain more clarity once I’m healed in a couple of months. Pray for me, send some positive vibes, etc.

Recovery was a bit challenging. My mother came every morning for about two weeks but I didn’t have any help in the evening. The painkillers also made me hallucinate like crazy. I don’t know if it is because I’m bipolar or what. It was definitely a scary experience! It’s been about three weeks and there’s some pain but I’m getting better day by day.

In other news…

I’m currently working on a poetry book that I’m self-publishing through createspace. I’ve been writing poetry since a pre-teen and always had a love for poetry. Slyvia Plath, Pablo Neruda, Maya Angelou, Khalil Gibran, and Saul Williams are my top five. With the emergence of poetry from Warsan Shire, Rapi Kaur, Nayyiah Waheed, Yrsa Daley-Ward and others, I finally feel more inspired than ever to publish. I can’t say that I’ll be as eloquent as they are because I can be self-deprecating at times and that’s ok.  We all can’t be the same.

The working title is The Chaos of Longing. It briefly touches on trauma and living with bipolar disorder but the meat of the book is about the chaos of longing for flesh, affection, self-love, and healing. And of course some of men I discuss on the blog will make an appearance. Check out excerpts on kyrobinson.net.