LDR Tales: Where'd You Go?

One day I just might write a book about Long Distance Relationships or LDRs as we kids call it these days. ;)

There's a whole culture around Long Distance Relationships. When are you officially "dating?" When do you meet? When do you announce you're a couple and is that before or after you meet? When and how do you say "I love you" and mean it more than the casual "Love ya" you do on the internet? When do you introduce her to the family? When do you say you're in a relationship and change your status?  Then there's the communicating -- how will you talk to one another? How many texts is too much or too little and how much do you talk on the phone? Do you have conversations with other people when you're on the phone, watch television, do your homework or do you just talk on the phone and nothing else? Let's not forget the whole sex thing. Do you have skype sex, facetime sex or phone sex or a combination of all three and does this happen before or after you do it in person?  And speaking about "in person"-- who goes to visit who? Who moves? Do you move in after you meet? How long do you do the LDR before you move?

Yup. There's at least a book worth of valuable information and guidelines just waiting to be scribed.

I don't have time for all of that, but I thought about sharing little things about my current LDR that I find amusing.

I think it started after we spent eleven days together. Before then, if one of us fell asleep on the phone, we'd be embarrassed. There would be apologies, emphatic declarations that neither of us snored, and then we'd hang up and go to our own corners of the bed thousands of miles away from each other. Ok, not thousands, but over a thousand. But when we met, suddenly sleeping together became our sleeping pill. Mainly hers. Sorry baby.

Now when we talk on the phone, she's going to be sleeping and I'll be listening to her breathe into the phone. It's gonna happen. It's just a matter of time. Sometimes I'll join her, but the time difference and her new work schedule means she's usually winding down as I'm just getting started. So we talk for awhile and then the sound of sleeping breathing noises begin. At first I'd hang up as soon as she fell asleep, but then she'd call me back. "Where'd you go?" she would ask. "Baby, you were asleep," I'd reply. "But I woke up and you were gone." Yeah. So now I stay on the phone for probably close to an hour. I mute the phone and watch television while she slumbers like a baby, and, like a parent does with a sleeping child, softly start warning her in her sleep that I'm going to go soon. If she argues in words that actually make sense, I stick around a bit longer. But if her words come out like some strange disjointed drugged up dream state, I hang up and know that she's out for at least four hours. Sometimes I join her and sleep alongside her, headset in, curled up, eyes closed --- it's almost like how it was when we were sleeping next to each other except I don't feel the weight of her arms flung over my body, or feel her curled around me until the moment we both get way too warm. Typically my snoring will overpower hers and she'll hang up on me and I'll wake up when things are too silent wondering where she went.

It's a routine now. A habit. The only way we can sleep. To many it will probably sound insane. Probably as insane as the two of us on the phone for hours when we're home. Or being on the phone when we're talking to other people, something that would normally drive me crazy  but with her seems perfect. LDRs are insane. As insane as falling madly in love with someone who lives miles away from you -- someone whose voice you feel in your bones.

Karma

It's not that I don't believe in Karma. It's that I don't believe in Karma the way that most people on social media do. Or at least most of the people I know on social media.

This is usually the conversation I hear:

Her: And that bitch cheated on me. I hate her. I gave her my all, my everything and what did she give me? Lies and more lies. I'm tired of crying. I'm going to go out right now and slash her tires. I'm going to key her car. I'm going to make her pay for the pain that I felt.

Her Friend: Girl. Don't even worry about it. Karma. Karma will bite her in the ass. 

So let me get this right: Karma is the little thing that bites you in the ass when you do bad shit to other people. So tell me, please, in the above example, who did "Her" piss off in a former or current life to get the cheating b. that cheated on her? Because that's how it works, isn't it? Karma keeps track of all the bad things you do and then when you're least expecting it, it comes in and punishes you.

Another conversation that took place in a letter I received once on LLA and the response from more than half of the people who responded:

Dear LLA: I cheated on my girl. Yeah, I know it was wrong but things were going bad for a long time. So me and new girl were going strong when all of a sudden -- I just started to get a feeling. I knew she was doing something so I looked in her computer and saw the emails between her and her "bae." Apparently they love each other and want to be together and she was saying she made a terrible mistake and it was her she wanted. What do I do. My heart is broken. Signed: Lost

Dear Lost: Karma sucks, huh? 

Before I get too far ahead of myself, here's a definition of Karma -- simplified. Karma is defined as the summary of what you do in this life (or a previous life) having an affect on a future existence. Most of the people yelling the loudest about Karma don't even believe in another life outside of the one they are currently living, much less a future existence -- so how does that work exactly?

People tend to just ignore that part of Karma and think instead it means in this life -- here and now. What you do tomorrow will affect negatively or positively what you do today. You're a jerk today? Then someone is going to be a jerk to you tomorrow. You cheat on someone this weekend and you'll see. In a month, someone will cheat on you. You give to charity today? You will receive an abundance of good things later, too.

Now, I am not saying that Karma doesn't exist in some way, but I think it's been severely bastardized on social media. It's as if no one knows what to say so they just say "Karma" much like someone forks over the "Get Out Of Jail Free" card when they find themselves behind bars during a competitive game of Monopoly. "I don't know quite how to help you in this predicament, but Karma. Yeah. That's it. Karma is what screwed you. That bad Karma. Gotta watch out for her." *smh*

This might work well with adults who do crappy things. But what about children with diseases? What about babies that are born to only die shortly after due to some genetic disease or illness? What about children who are abused by teachers, parents, friends, family members, church people? What about good, upright, never-do-wrong citizens that just happen to wake up in the morning and take the wrong plane, train, or bus? Or human beings that just happen to be born on the wrong continent in the wrong century in the wrong lifetime? What did they do wrong to bring Karma on their asses? I'll wait...

Sometimes bad shit just happens and there isn't anything we can do about it. There are things that can't be explained. And sometimes when people do "bad" stuff, Karma just appears as themselves, little reminders. Sometimes "Karma" appears in bad choices of partners because you feel you don't deserve a good one. Or appears as a traffic ticket because you didn't take time in the morning for yourself, got in your car, and forgot your wallet on the dresser. Sometimes we subconsciously give ourselves "time outs" when we don't consciously know to take them. Sometimes we punish ourselves because it's too hard to move forward and to forgive ourselves. Yeah -- sometimes Karma is you. And sometimes people who do really bad shit, never see a lick of Karma ever. And if they do, it's so miniscule they barely feel it kick them in the shins. There are tons of evil people in the world that never "get theirs." 

That person that hurt you was a jerk. You didn't deserve to be mistreated. But instead of figuring out your revenge, you should heal yourself so that the anger and resentment you feel inside doesn't destroy you. That would be pretty crazy, huh?

I believe in good vibes and energy. We attract good things and sometimes we attract bad things. Sometimes the junk that we have inside of us signals people who survive off of that junk. They smell you coming a mile away -- like attracts like, sometimes. If you are a cheater then I believe it's possible that you will attract people who are also cheaters. If you don't believe in your own self worth then I believe people who prey on people who have low self worth will have an easier time finding and hurting you than let's say, someone with a higher self worth. Sometimes life just isn't fair and bad things happen to really great and really good people.

Sometimes victims find it easier to blame themselves and find people in the world to continue treating them in the way they (the victim) feels they deserve than to see that sometimes life just doesn't make a lick of sense and sometimes we don't get what we deserve and sometimes things don't get better for a long time (and sometimes not at all...)

But that takes too long to explain. So... Karma. Yeah, Karma. Karma will fix it.

When Sad Leaves

I thought of writing a thank you to my sadness the other day. I have pretty thank you notes in my desk drawer. The ones I like the most have cheery yellow envelopes. The cards have D.I.Y. green, yellow and blue craft birds sitting along the bottom. I, of course, can't stop touching the felt long enough to open up to the empty inside where I would write.  So I don't ever use them. They seem too sacred and pretty to give out as gratitude for socks, or earrings or the nail polish I got in my Christmas stocking two winters ago.

Yesterday I sat down at my desk and started to type the beginnings of a poem -- I hoped. I saw it already on the paper -- a short blank verse documenting a scribe of gratefulness to every sadness I had ever experienced.  Even the day my mother told my family I had died so she wouldn't have to see the reminder of the man she loved and lost got a pretty bird thank you. I would have pressed my lips firmly against the back of the envelope the way that long lost lover pen pals do sometimes. Maybe I'd mist it with a scent of sugar and almond butter, slip a picture inside in case the sadness needed a reminder of what I looked like back when it could have killed me.

Because now that I'm sitting here -- at this crossroads of high definition happy -- sadness even when pressed against me -- so close that I can smell the salt on its skin -- doesn't look the same. Even when it catches my breath and wrings it tightly, I can't be too upset at the drive-by.

Because just look...look at the presents sad leaves at my door after it says goodbye.

If You Pray Really Hard...

This week I watched "The L Word -- Mississippi." SO much to talk about. If I could make everyone watch that show (on Showtime) I would. It's ... enlightening. And painfully so.

One of the stories featured this woman who was a Lesbian. Yeah. I said was.

She was what we old timers would call "butch" -- not a drop of "boi" in her. Short, short hair, no earrings, most comfortable in "men's" clothing, seemingly more dominant. A top. She went to church and became "saved." She was healed of her homosexuality. This means that someone actually brought her to church, and then encouraged her to step forward when they asked if anyone had any "demons" they needed exorcised. And some pastor who probably got his license on line for $35, put his hands on her forehead and proclaimed her "saved" from the homosexual demon.

Fine. Do what makes you happy, love.

Friends from the church escorted her home and proceeded to make her over. Gave her girl clothes, put earrings in her ears, prayed for a mate for her -- a nice man because "that's the type of person she deserves."

This woman had a son. And this son is gay. And wouldn't you know this woman brought her son to the church to be saved -- that is -- CURED of his homosexuality. And after her son refused, asking his mother to love him as he was, she said to the camera that she would rather die than to go back to the gay lifestyle. She would rather die. She would take herself out.

What. The. Frick?

Being gay is so bad that some type of conversion is necessary. And if that doesn't work, then only death can prevent the evilness that is seeping through your pores. Is that what the bible says?

If any church ever said this to me, I would be out of there. This is not church. What type of church could make you feel that anything you are and anything you do is so damned awful that if God can't cure it only death is the cure. What church would ever pray over someone and think that could change their sexuality or that a wardrobe change and tacky earrings could make you suddenly love penis.

If that works for you, then you should be happy. You should be jumping around and shopping at Macy's, polishing your nails and wearing extensions because that makes you excited. When you lay down and a man puts his penis inside of you, you should feel like you've "come home" and be thankful for having found your way. You should be telling others of your discovery OPEN to the possibility that this might not be their path and they will be just as loved and just as "saved" as you are. You most definitely shouldn't be sobbing about taking yourself out if you go back to who you were before. And you definitely shouldn't be telling your own flesh and blood that there is something wrong with him because he doesn't believe as you do.

I'm so disgusted that any church would do such a thing to their parishioners. So disgusted.

When I was eight years old, a friend told me that if I prayed hard enough God would make me white. Her suggesting I needed to pray was enough for me to believe that my being black was wrong. So I prayed. In the morning... well... you know. So I went around feeling ashamed that this somehow meant I hadn't prayed hard enough.  My being black was a sign of my sinfulness and not being faithful enough.

This is about as ridiculous as someone's sexuality being a sign of sinfulness. And the likelihood of that being changed by prayer just as impossible.

But what do I know?  If you pray realllllllllly hard...

"Dear Kari" Letter #1

I received this letter in my inbox today:

I am a lesbian and I am currently with a woman that I adore. She does not consider her self gay, she just fell in love with me as I did with her, and we have been discussing this subject. She knows her family will never accept this life style because they are very religious and do not believe or accept homosexuality, so I am a secret to her family and it's really starting to bother me. I am in need of guidance of my situation. I love this woman to death but I know no one will ever know because she is not in a position to let anyone even her close friends know of me.

There is so much to write about on the subject of religion, and I foolishly thought I could just write it in a few hours. But I can't. It's too important and it's too intricate for me to just throw out a bunch of paragraphs and think I've done anything of value. I promise I will come back to Homosexuality and the Bible, but it will have to wait until I can properly do it justice.

But this letter is important and I will graze the subject of religion in answering it.

It's fine if your girlfriend doesn't consider herself gay, but she is entering into a gay relationship or same sex relationship, if you will. And that is important because sometimes in homophobic families people skate on by by not naming what they are doing and how they are feeling. If you are out of the closet and in a same sex relationship and want to say you aren't "gay" but everyone knows your girlfriend and you live out in the open then that's one thing. But saying you aren't anything is ... well... that's a tiny red flag for me.

*big breath*

Bottom Line:

As long as you are a secret, you are battling the closet you fought hard to come out of. As long as you are someone's secret, you are hiding a part of who you are. And as long as you hide a part of who you are, the more likely you are to feel ashamed. And feeling ashamed will lead to being angry -- and anger turned inward turns to depression. This is not healthy in any way, shape, or form.

I have a few suggestions: Find a church that is gay Friendly. Find and speak to a person in the church who can help you understand completely the literature that has been used against gay people (and black people and women and ....) and learn what the Bible is really saying about you. Bring your girlfriend with you.  See if the pastor of the church offers counseling or find a counselor on your own who is familiar with LGBTQ issues. Watch and read any literature on the Bible and homosexuality you can get your hands on starting with "For the Bible Tells Me So."

If she does not eventually come out, despite her families beliefs, then she is in danger, and she is not open to being a suitable partner for you. It will be too hard on you (as you hint at in your letter) to be the secret. You might start to resent her, and that would be unfair. To both of you.

I thought I might be able to write a blog about religion and homosexuality today -- but I can't. It's just so much to get into and I have limited time at the moment. But I will talk about it -- a little bit at a time. For now let me say that the Bible does not condemn homosexuality. The Bible condemns people's misuse of each other for spiritual gain or for political gain. The examples in the bible of "homosexual acts" are just that -- acts. There is no homosexual relationship in the bible that is condemned -- there is only a bunch of behavior that is frowned upon. If God hated homosexuals as much as the fundamental Christians would like for us to believe, why doesn't he ever mention it? And why doesn't Jesus EVER say one single word about it. All the lessons on the mountains and all the fishing trips he and the disciples went on? You'd think he would have something to say about homosexuality if it was such a big deal, right?

Anyway -- it's a big subject. And I'm sorry that you're having to deal with it in your relationship. Take good care and find someone who can help you through this, bit by bit.

Good luck.

Facebook PDA

I was going to talk about Karma, but I think that's a post that will be better suited for tomorrow.

I just read through some of my Facebook posts on my wall. I skim through most videos unless they are something inspiring because I would rather not see bodies burned up or mothers disciplining their children or worse exploitations of children or violence towards animals while I'm enjoying my frosted flakes in the morning.

But that's just me.

I take in my friends requests for prayers or thoughts or good wishes on tests, job interviews, etc. I try to remember the birthdays so I can add my birthday wishes to the others. Sometimes I chime in and put in my 25 cents in discussions. I add my opinion when I think it matters or if I have something of value to share.

And then there are the love posts. Oh how they irritate some of you. Oh, I get it. When I was single there was nothing that irritated me more than a good love post. I'm being honest. I don't wanna know how you and your bae are doing because I have no bae. I had been lied to, cheated on, had my heart broken into tiny pieces -- During one particularly bad breakup my family took me to Westside Story. When Tony died, I clapped. That's what he got for falling in love. That bakery scene in Moonstruck? That was me. Johnny, not Loretta.

So of course now that I'm experiencing dating bliss, I wanna talk endlessly about her. Post pictures and quote sonnets by Shakespeare. And I know I'm over the top. And I know I'm mushy and probably make people throw up a little bit in their mouths.

But I'm 47 years old. Do you know how long I've waited to find someone who I can tolerate longer than a month? Someone who loves me and wants to spend time with me? Someone who is perfect for me in all her (get ready to gag) perfect imperfections?

A fricken long ass time, that's how long.

And now that I've found it I feel like screaming from the rooftops. And I will. Thank you.

We also live miles apart. Miles. Not a block some of you are complaining about on here. I don't have the luxury of kissing her Good Morning. I don't have the luxury of sending little love notes in her lunch before she heads off to work, or of putting a note on her dashboard, or surprising her at her job. I don't see her. So I'm going to blow kisses all over her virtual face on line. Post hearts in comments and probably do it even more now. No, I probably won't. I just said that out of spite and being stubborn.

If it nauseates you, if you can't stand it and think it's too much Facebook PDA for your tastes, feel free to unfriend, unsubscribe, unfollow or simply avoid my posts.

That's what I've been doing with the endless whining about how there are no good studs (or femmes), how the world is going to hell in a hand basket and there's nothing we can do about it, how Obama is comparable to Hitler and should be impeached (even though the whole process would take longer than the man has left in office -- but that's another blog), how ugly or fat or disgusting this person is at Walmart or on the beach posts some of you all are posting these days.

Seriously, people. There are worse things you could be reading on your feed other than someone's love fest. Even if you've watched the person breakup and get back together fifty times in the last week -- love isn't the worst thing to have on our facebook pages. Even misguided, young, or naive love.

Is it? 

:)

Love you.

But, We Had a Connection...

So this is what happened: 

I was minding my own business (typical disclosure) when I happened upon (that means I was reading my facebook “group” pages for topics I’d like to discuss in more detail) this post (slightly altered to protect the innocent): 

So, I (a stud) started talking to this girl on the internet. We really had a great vibe. We exchanged pictures and I really was attracted to her. She had nice long hair, dressed girly-girl (which I liked) and she was pretty. I was pleasantly surprised when we got along well on top of it, and we agreed to meet. When we went on the first date she dressed and looked exactly like the photos (whew). Dinner was great (I paid) and we shared a great kiss at the end of the evening. We immediately made plans to meet up again. We were dating for months when suddenly during a casual dinner out she showed up looking ... well... pretty much like me. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, she was wearing pants and a dress shirt (not blouse -- a shirt) and even her mannerisms were more like mine. I wasn’t a fan. I was still attempting to process this new development over dinner when she asked me where I got my hair cut. She said that she was thinking about cutting off her “to the middle of her back” tresses and sporting a style that more fit her likes. She said that she had come to the conclusion that she was more masculine identifying than feminine identifying and asked what I thought of that. What should I do? I’m not attracted AT ALL to her when she is looking more like a boi than the femme I thought she was. She said that she was afraid I wouldn’t date her if she told me in the beginning so approached me as a femme. She’s still a nice woman, but I don’t want to date someone who looks like me. 

The comments this person got for posting this question were over the top. “You don’t deserve her!” “This is what’s wrong with our community today.” “You sound so superficial and stupid with that sh*t” and then my favorite of all lines, “Well, you fell in love with her for her, not her clothes.” 

When people portray themselves as someone else and they get caught, they always say things like -- "Well, you fell in love with me -- not my job." or "You fell in love with me, not my clothes." or "You fell in love with me for what was in the inside and our connection, not what I look like." It’s like there’s a handbook and this page is highlighted AND dog-eared so nobody misses it. 

Turn on any episode of Catfish and you’ll hear the same thing. A boy acting like he was a woman the whole time then meeting a guy can not think that his cyber skills will make up for the fact that he lied about HIS GENDER. A woman who claims she is a model and entrepreneur like Tyra Banks but then shows up and is overweight, barely making ends meet will immediately utter those words we Catfish watchers (and those of us who have experienced the nightmare of being catfished) know and hate: “But we had a connection. I only did this because I didn’t think you could fall in love with me the way I looked. But you did love me. And you can love me again. I’m still the same person.” That right there. “I’m still the same person.”  No. You. Are. Not. 

You, my poor delusional friend, are a liar. Everything you said, every lie you told to continue the front of being girly when you weren’t, of being a model when you weren’t, of being a female when you weren’t was a lie. Every time you opened up your mouth you were a big bold face fat ugly liar. And the person I (or anyone who has been in this predicament) liked/loved/was fond of was THAT person. And THAT person again was what? Yeah. A liar. 

I can be as petty and superficial as I want to be. I can go after the prettiest girl or boi I want to. That’s MY decision. MY decision does not give a person a right to prey off of my superficiality by being the person they feel I would potentially fall for. 

For the record I’m not that kind of superficial. But I do have preferences. I have likes and dislikes, though varied. But the connection I have to a person is built on who they are. And who they are is colored by the truths (and the lies) they tell. You have absolutely no right to even suggest that same connection still exists or even SHOULD exist. 

So back to the scenario of the woman who fell in love with the girl who was a girly girl and now because of net bullying is made to feel like an asshole because she no longer wants to be with this girl who is a liar. 

Really, fam?  Really?