When I want something, I go after it with full force. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make any sense, or if it seems impossible. As Audrey Hepburn once said, “Nothing is impossible. The word itself says ‘I’m possible.'”
Case in point my year in Los Angeles. When I lived in a LA for a month during the summer of 2012, I decided that I would live here only a week into La La Land. I wasn’t sure when, or for how long. But I would be an Angelina. Fast forward six months and there I was – inhaling the Los Angeles smog like the rest of ’em.
I also hiked, like I said I would, lived in Studio City (a beautiful and very safe neighborhood in LA County), like I said I would, and even dated a few white men. I didn’t say I’d do that, but it comes with the territory when living in Whiteville AKA Studio City.
Ok. So I only went hiking once. I complained about being lonely because I was living on my own. And I missed Latino men terribly. But still, I did it! I may change my mind and seem fickle but I’m a groooown woman. Whateva! I do what I want!
That was my very mindset when I contacted Mr. G, the man that I briefly dated (if you call it dating) in 2009. Mr. G and I met when I was a teacher. We were coworkers first and then a spark ignited. We kissed a few times and had many conversations over email and text. He was never available to see me or really talk. That’s because Mr. G had a live-in fiance that he called a girlfriend.
I know, it’s crazy. How did I go there? Cause I wanted him. I didn’t care about anything else. I summoned my inner Cartman and said, “Whateva! I’ll do what I want!”
And that’s what I did when Paco walked out the door. After my cleansing shower, I searched for Mr. G’s email and I sent him a message.
It’s Sujeiry. Long time, I know, but I was thinking about you days ago and wondered how you were. Not even sure if these emails work, but I decided to press my luck.
As for me, I’m in Los Angeles now. It’s beautiful here. I won’t say anymore in case this never gets to you.
Hope all is well…
It wasn’t a romantic gesture. That wasn’t the point. All I wanted was to hear from a man that I adored, who adored me the same. I know he did. He may have been in a relationship but his response said it all.
“I am short of words at this moment, not sure why, perhaps this email was long awaited or because I to was thinking about you not long ago.”
It felt good to read those words, to feel desired and wanted. To know that a man that I connected with years ago still thought of me, us, and missed me.
The emails continued throughout the day. With each reply, I knew I had to ask if he was still with his live-in fiance that he called a girlfriend. And so I asked. He responded just like he always did.
“I’m still with her to a certain extent.”
That’s all I needed to hear. Not because my email was a romantic gesture. That wasn’t the point. All I wanted was to connect with a man again. After feeling unloved and unwanted by Paco, I wanted that spark again, even if only for a moment. That was all. But I didn’t want to disrespect his partner again. That’s why I summoned my inner Cartmen and ended our dialogue, even after his excuses. Yes, he could very well leave her. Nothing is impossible. But I don’t want him anymore.