When a Woman Loves a Man

 

 

Remember what it felt like to fall in love for the very first time? It was so special. It was mind blowing, earth shattering and exciting ecstasy. It was also a scary, stomach churning and nerve-wracking bittersweet misery. Being reminiscent of our first experience with falling in love, it was around age fifteen (on an average), and we probably experienced a falling in love episode at least every six months or so. We could fall in and out of love at breakneck speed, and each time we began the experience it was as if it was for the first time with all of the butterflies and the wonderment.

Those times were innocent in spite of the experimentation that we all did with certain activities involving the boys we were in love with. They were awkward, yet possessing a passion that was both tender and potent. Some boys were more knowledgeable than others, and they were often called “bad boys”. And didn’t every young girl (regardless of her social status, or her family background) secretly entertain thoughts and desires to be possessed by a bad boy? You know the type; arrogant high school delinquent who smoked and drank hard liquor, had no curfews, drove a fast car he had rebuilt with his own hands, and always had girls waiting in line to be with him.

As we grew older, we stopped falling in love as easily but no less passionately. We still have a hidden susceptibility to the attraction of a bad boy. Only now, he is older, better looking, more arrogant and self- possessed and has more money. He can afford to wine and dine us and make our hearts flutter in different and much more intimate ways that often border on the raucous. This man can manifest himself in our dreams, in our private moments and he can haunt us with his sullen ways that both attract and repel us.

What’s love got to do with it? Just about everything. Heart and soul, fire and desire, the willingness to overcome any obstacle to being with this man that may present itself, and a determination born of an almost desperate  desire to possess and be possessed. No mountain is too high to climb, no river is too wide to cross and no problem is too hard to solve if it tries to separate us from the man we love. We will disregard common sense, all practical reasoning, all objectivity and lose ourselves in the sheer moments of pleasure when we are with him.

Sometimes this kind of deep loving can cloud our perspectives and affect our judgment. We get ourselves into all kinds of trouble when we allow feelings to rule our entire life. Love is a beautiful thing; it is a normal human emotion. But it can be deadly to our emotional health and even physically if our minds become obsessed with an unnatural love. Many women have fallen prey to the dark side of love and have been victims of an abusive love. Many women have committed violent acts in the name of love because of a proprietary jealousy.

But it’s true that we give our all to a man when we love. Even if we’re not sure we will get what we give in return. Doesn’t matter, it’s all or nothing. Some of you may disagree with me, but that’s okay. You’re entitled to your opinion, but think about what you feel right now, or what you felt when you realized you were in love with someone. That someone can be your husband or your boyfriend, or someone from your past. You won’t have much difficulty thinking back to how you waited for a phone call, how distressed you became when he was late or didn’t show up at all with no explanation, or even worse…how you felt when you imagined him with someone else.

Love…is a many splendor thing, and it’s great when we can keep it that way; untarnished by jealousy, envy, mistrust or infidelity. But that won’t stop us from loving and it won’t stop us from giving.  The stakes are high and sometimes the odds are not in our favor but we are in it to win it…all or nothing with our hearts on fire.

The Invisible Woman

The invisible woman. Perhaps you have seen her. She is the middle-aged mature woman that shops at her neighborhood supermarket, worships in church on Sundays, browses through a local branch of the library and buys her clothes at several big name department stores. She comes and goes from her home to work, visiting friends and waves at her neighbors. Sometimes she gets the chance to spend quality time with her close family.

Her clothes are well-chosen and smart. Her appearance and grooming is always immaculate and stylish. Intelligent conversation and a quick wit spice up her personality. This woman is no slacker. She's always had an excellent work ethic and lives up to the highest of moral and ethical standards.

Well...here is a woman that should command a very high visibility judging from the descriptive paragraphs above. One would automatically assume that this particular woman would lead a busy social life and be a hip member of her in-crowd. Let me tell you that the case involved here is totally the oppposite.

For all intents and purposes, this woman may as well be invisible. All of the previously mentioned accolades and observations are true and accurate. But, in spite of all of the above, she is invisible to the opposite sex. That's right; men. 

Some men that she encounters on a purely everyday situation such as in a supermarket, at the gas pump, in line at Starbucks, or in the waiting room of the mechanic while the oil is being changed in her car...will either avoid eye contact completely; or ignore her attempts at a simple smile and a friendly invitation to conversation.

She may be smiling just for the pure fun of it; because the weather is beautiful...or she feels special that day. She might want to strike up a conversation to pass the time. It's not an impossibility that she may be a people person and find it fun getting to know others. Every routine effort to be friendly is not...I repeat not an invitation to something else!

But...these days if any of the aforementioned scenarios take place, most men have either mumbled a few unintelligible words and made a hasty exit in the opposite direction, or ...(and this is one of her favorites) managed to bring up the fact that he is married in the second sentence of the conversation! Here's a for instance. She was outside her favorite supermarket one fine summer morning browsing and admiring the new array of bedding plants. There was a man nearby doing the same thing. He mentioned the marigolds to her first; noting how healthy and beautiful they were.

She agreed cheerfully (but not overly so...merely cordial) and threw in that she really liked the growth rate and the hardiness of marigolds. The next sentence out of his mouth was how his wife planted them every year. Where did that come from? Was she standing next to him? No. Was she waiting in the car watching his every move? No. He wanted to make it clear that he was off limits just in the off chance that she would come onto him.

Isn't that just sad...just pure pathetic? A woman cannot utter a complete sentence before a man thinks she's flirting! And please don't allow your eyes to wander in the direction of a man doing his own shopping. If you get too close to him, he'll bolt like a scared baby rabbit.

And her all time favorite is the conversation that a man will hold with who knows who to avoid the look or the slightest possibility that she may speak to him while standing in line anywhere. Suddenly, it is imperative that he makes a phone call that ends just as suddenly the moment he gets to the cashier to place his order! Then, he feels safe enough to tuck away his phone...place his order and busy himself with payment, etc. so he can make his escape as quick as possible.

What was once a perplexing enigma has now become a source of amusement for our sophisticated and savvy woman. She enjoys making a man feel uncomfortable in these situations, and feels that if he is unable to hold his own and not feel threatened by a person of her caliber, then that's his problem! No sweat off her nose. She smiles and laughs anyway and finds a great source of amusement in his dilemma.

So, our girl is slowly accepting of the fact that good, strong, confident men are a scarcity; especially in her age group. She is happy being who she is, living a good life and being her own person even if that life is independent of a special male relationship. Until he comes along (and he WILL come along one day) she is content in her own skin. Smiling, and taking care of business one day at a time and appreciating each and every one of the days she is blessed to live in.

Life...is good.

Sisters Interrupted...A Confessional (Part Two)

We remained in full rapturous attention mode while Bonnie began her story...or as she opened with; "her confessional". The telling involved her, her older sister Evelyn Yvette ("Evie" for short) and Evie's husband Waverly Knight. When Evie and Waverly began their wedded life together, it was on a shoe string budget, so the new couple lived with the bride's parents. Of course this arrangement was supposed to be temporary just until they could save up enough money for a down payment on a place of their own.

Bonnie is the youngest of three girls, making her seven years Evie's junior, because Evie is the oldest daughter. So, she was at this time a young, beautiful and impressionable nineteen, and a sophomore at college. One particular weekend she came home unexpectedly because she was bored beiong on campus and was a little homesick for her parents. She had called her Mom but when she didn't get an answer she decided to just come on home because she knew her Mom would be thrilled.

Bonnie didn't really care about visiting with Mr. and Mrs. Knight at all. Actually, she didn't really like her sister all that much anyway. Evie had always thought herself entitled as the oldest daughter in a female dominated household. She was practically a bully to poor Dyane (the middle daughter called 'Delicious' for short), but Bonnie didn't take no wooden nickels from her. And as for Waverly; well he was so conceited and vain until it was totally beyond thought how any woman could stand him.

Now at this point in the story, we all paused for additional refreshment and to fill up our snack plates. after we had settled back down, having had potty breaks and all, Bonnie continued. Okay...on this weekend Bonnie arrived home around 3pm on Friday afternoon. She was tired and hungry after her four hour drive from school and she made a beeline for the kitchen and the fridge. She was standing there checking out the leftovers in the fridge when she felt the prescence of someone else in the room. Turning her head towrds the door, she saw her brother-in-law leaning against the door jamb looking her over like she was a piece of meat.

She said hello to him and asked if he shouldn't be out looking for work. To this he replied that he had finished combing the streets for today. When he said this, Bonnie's first thought was "combing the streets for what?' she wondered and let out a chuckle. He made no pretense that he was coming on to her; he came over and backed her up against the sink. He placed his arms on either side of her and said how fortunate he was that she came home because otherwise he would have had to spend the next two days and nights alone.

"Where's everyone at? Where's Mom and Dad?' she asked as she pushed him away and walked over to the table to sit down. He got out a couple of cold beers from the fridge and passed her one and said that they had gone down to see Aunt Maddie for the weekend. Aunt Maddie's son had called and told Bonnie's Mom that she was very very ill and needed to see all of her family. Naturally Evie went with them since she was family, and naturally he didn't since he wasn't.

Now, like she had said earlier, she didn't care for her sister and her high fallutin ways, and it was a stretch to be around Waverly, but something in her (probably her alter-ego) found this situation interesting. She met Waverly's direct gaze and returned his smile as they clink their beer bottles together in a mock salute. What is going on here? Well she would be finding out soon enough...


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Rites of Passage

M

en are wonderful, magnificent and lovable creatures. They are our heroes, our hunter-gatherers, and our beasts of burden. They come in all shapes, sizes and personalities with individual physical traits and varying degrees of abilities and savvier fare.  We as women love our men. I love men. We love their sexiness, sensuality and all things provocative. And although they are much the same in these traits, they have a couple of others that may not be as endearing to us and it is an undeniable fact that they can do quite a bit of “jive talking” and “messin around”.

I was no stranger to the flirtatious overtures from other men. They would approach me anywhere; at work, while out shopping or pumping gas. They would act like they didn’t see my wedding band and diamond on my left hand, or they just chose to ignore it. Some would even comment on how they knew my husband was a happy man being married to all that, or that they knew I was sweet just because I smelt good, and occasionally someone would get really bold and say something like “baby I wanna treat you like a lollipop and lick you all over.” And then they would try to touch me…just trying to hold my hand or stroke my long hair…nothing to make me feel physically threatened.

The hopefully amorous dude would approach me walking with a “pimp” in his stride, while caressing and stroking his own beard or mustache, lean up against a wall or something and penetrating through an invisible wall of Canoe cologne, he would give me his best come-on spiel. One of my favorite jive talking lines was “Hey Brown Sugah…if you let me take you out not only will I rock yo world, but I will make you feel likes we was the only ones in it.” After having supposedly wooed me with this compliment, he would adjust his aviator sunglasses, hunch up his shoulders and give a hearty “sniff sniff’ while awaiting my inevitable swoon from being overcome with anticipation. If things got really exciting, one of his other women would come on the scene, and it was hilarious to watch him do some serious back pedaling!

 Now, please know that I misspelled some words for emphasis because I want you to picture how it went and how he sounded…you know …put you on the scene. Remember this was at a time when the men wore fancy jewelry (gold chains, bracelets, and rings) and very large hats. The 1970’s action movie “Superfly” starring Ron O’Neal inspired many a man to start wearing long colorful coats and sporting a walking cane just to add that little special touch to the image of a sharply dressed, jive talking, man of the world. I met a man just like this at a very vulnerable age and lost my tender heart to him.

My fascination with this man of the world nearly cost me my graduation during my senior year in high school. He was of course older, and not exactly an upstanding citizen, and I was your typical “goody two shoes” who was drawn to a “bad boy” like a magnet. Needless to say, I had a serious Love Jones for him and because I did everything I could do to get his attention, I subsequently got myself into a boatload of trouble on more than one occasion. But in my seventeen year old mind it was like totally worth it; sort of like going through days of torture for about four hours a week with him. Doesn’t that sound absolutely pathetic? Thankfully I can laugh about my escapades now, but at the time my heart was on my sleeve and I was wearing it for him.

I call these events in life rites of passage. There are some things we just have to experience first hand, and we have to have some things in our past to look back on and have a great big laugh over, and to share with our friends as we stroll mentally back in time. And actually, these events are terrific learning tools, for if we didn’t live through them and go through the pain and heartache, fall in and out of love a zillion times; what would we talk about in our golden years?

My Mother was a great parent in that she kept our clothes immaculate, kept a spotless house, and cooked delicious meals. She was a wonderful woman and I loved her dearly (still do), but she didn’t teach me about life. She was a product of her generation and at this time in my life when I needed to know about personal things, and about boys and about “feelings” I could not openly talk to her. Most of the stuff I needed to know as a young girl coming into womanhood I learned from other people. But she had her tender moments with me, and I have never felt unloved because she didn’t talk to me about “the birds and the bees”.

We all grow up in different ways and in different stages of development. Parenting methods have always been a mix of doing what we think is best, driven by our gut instincts, a lot of prayer, trial and error guesswork. So there were other things I learned from her that were valuable and important and they shaped me and gave me values that could have come from no one else but her. I still live by these values and will treasure her memory always.

Rites of passage and family traditions can instill and nurture us through our lives and keep us on the right paths. Without them we would be lost and with them we are so much the better for it.

Can't Buy Me Love...Helena's Story

C

an’t buy me love, love, everybody tells me so. Can’t buy me love ..no..no..no..no..no!*  One of the clearest revelations that Helena Clayton had while being confined to her hospital bed was that her husband Stanford had spent the better part of their married life trying to buy her and to keep her bought. She didn’t even have to search the recesses of her mind to arrive at this. Suddenly it just appeared to her as clear as glass that he had constantly paid her off in material possessions, cash, trinkets and gifts and all the while she was either totally clueless or very adept at mastering the art of repression.

The burning question she was now faced with was could she have known all along that the married love she thought they had shared was based on a monetary foundation? And fresh on the heels of that was an even worse possibility; could she have known and chosen to ignore it, opting for the dollar signs and what money could buy?

Arranged marriages and contract alliances don’t even try to disguise the fact that money pays a huge part in their lives together. But for couples who supposedly marry for love and mutual honor and respect are not supposed to put dollar signs in the forefront of their lives. As she recalled the times from their courtship and engagement and their early years as a married couple, she didn’t remember anything significant that may have alerted her to consider trouble ahead because of money, and she didn’t remember Stanford doing anything out of the ordinary. He came from a wealthy family and was used to living a life of privilege.

She was from a middle class family and her parents provided the basic comforts of life for her and her siblings, and although they had many extras such as dance and piano lessons for the girls, and sports for the boys, it was known that there was a budget that must be kept so that their lifestyle could be maintained. Helena and her sisters Rosalind (Rosie Gal”) and Amy Anne along with her brothers Michael Thomas (“Pooch”) and Alexander Joseph (“JoJo”) appreciated the few luxuries her parents could afford and none of then ever took anything for granted. They may not have belonged to the upper crust of society like the Claytons, but her Mom and Dad were honest salt of the earth people who did their best for them and loved each other without indiscretion and were still Mr.& Mrs. Thomas Joseph Yancey for nearly sixty years.

Her daughter had delivered the message from Stanford about him being sorry and all. The thing is Helena could believe it. She felt the ring of truth to his appeal. And she had faced the cold, awful, damning truth about herself; that she was ultimately responsible for what had happened. She had pushed the envelope over the edge by first of all having the affair with Griffin, while knowing that he and Stanford were “acquainted”, and worst of all by admitting to sleeping with another man. She had played with fire by dangling the affair in front of her friends…her very best friends who had given her unfailing support always and even in this terrible mess had proven to still love her without interruption.

She had not only thrown all caution to the wind and danced with danger by not trying to be discreet so the rage that her husband had felt and its subsequent effects came as no surprise to her, but that didn’t mean she condoned violence and the physical injury he had caused her, but it did mean she could understand his hurt and his pain because she was the inflictor. She had every intention of forgiving him and dropping all charges against him in court and going back home if he wanted her.

If he had tried to buy her love, wasn’t she just as wrong if she willingly allowed him to continue doing it? Shouldn’t she have talked to him about it and let him know that the money and privilege was nowhere near as important to her as he was? Instead she had let him think for years that without the huge house and all of its appointments, the new cars, the unsupervised spending on shopping trips, luxury vacations and the prestige of being Mrs. Stanford Clayton were the basis for her living. She fell in love with him right after they first met and has loved him ever since.

Her affair happened because she was an attention hog. It had to always be about her, and because her hard-working husband was working 60 hours a week and maybe hadn’t paid as much attention to her as a result, she fell prey (willingly) to a man who paid her a few compliments and noticed her designer outfits and her $100 hairdos. Yes, it’s true what they say about hindsight. There was a lot of hard work ahead if she and her husband could agree to salvage the shreds of their marriage and start over again building them up, and this time money would not play as important a part as it always had.

The sun would shine again in her life and of that she was as sure as she was of who she is: Helena Charlene Yancey Clayton. She was actually excited about becoming a new woman, a better person who would then be ready to be a better wife and friend to her husband. Thank God for grace and mercy and forgiveness, and she would make the first move. She would call her home and speak to her husband and she would be comforted by the familiar sound of his voice. Some things would never change…and for that she was grateful.

*Excerpt from “Can’t Buy Me Love by “The Beatles”.

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