Skip to content

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way Back to Texas…

June 14, 2012

When I was younger, one of my least favorite days was the day my mother and I would part ways. I was living with my grandmother in Somerset, while she worked in Atlantic City at the Atlantic County building. I would see her every weekend that she got paid, before that vicious cycle would rear its ugly head. She would go back to work, I would go back to school.

I’ll admit, it hurt a little. Sometimes, I would tear up, despite knowing that we would eventually meet up again. Eventually, I was able to mature from the experience and come back a better man.

Or so I thought…

Fast forward to June 10, 2012, preferably mid-afternoon. 23 years of age, 6’3″, clutching a stuffed Spider-Man and bawling my eyes out at the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airpot. Everything I thought I had gotten rid of once I stepped foot in Atlantic City, came rushing back in random intervals. Once again, I was bawling my eyes out like I was a kid because it was the end of a special week that wouldn’t have been that special without the help of Jane.

I truly do care for and love this girl. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be bawling my eyes out for someone that I will see again (barring unforseen incident, God forbid). Nor would I have been swelling up with tears while reminiscing about small, trivial things that have happened during our week together. I’ve had some good times with the #LeagueEG that were just as dope, but never to the point where I’ve had to collect myself because I went back to shedding tears again.
It took me a while (about a couple of days), but I’m back at home continuing to reminisce about the memories shared in the town of Converse, settled in the city of San Antonio “deep in the heart of Texas.” That was real. Genuine. Natural. Nothing forced out of the pages in the Book of Game (no offense to the PUAs) or a “Top 10 Things” list from a magazine. Just her and me, with life surrounding us.

It may sound like I’m being a simp. Fuck it. That’s my Queen, because she demanded that respect without the force often seen behind it. If you hear her tell it, she’s beginning to feel like a woman (so “girl” is completely out of the picture). She’s not a “bad bitch” or a “bitch” of any kind…to me. She’s my Queen, because she earned that title, without even knowing what the qualifications were in the first place.

And I know that in Podunk, Texas (which I recently learned was not an actual city) she will be reading this piece that I’ve written in Egg Harbor Township (10 miles away from Atlantic City) and crying her eyes out. Because she misses me as much as I miss her physically, if not more than me. Yet I realize that for the first time in a long time, I just may be in love…

Now I’m going to sleep.

Advertisements
2 Comments
  1. “Nothing forced out of the pages in the Book of Game (no offense to the PUAs) or a “Top 10 Things” list from a magazine.”

    Spidey,

    Nothing that involves loving a woman the right way and her doing the same for you will ever come from any book or top 10 list. Great for you and Tes.

  2. I’m in love with you. I love you. Saying those words and typing them never seem enough to me, but they’re none the less true. All the love songs make sense, and the sky is bluer…all that romantical shit.

    I don’t know what to say to this; a Queen am I? Only because a King came around and made me so. Loved am I? Only because someone wonderful took the time to love me. And for that…just, thank you. Thank you for giving me and my lil love a shot. Thank you for letting me open up and be myself, and thank you for doing the same. I can’t say it enough, but I’m sure you get the gist.

    And yeah, I cried. Not when I first read it, but the morning after when I looked over to find you weren’t there. It’s not gonna get any easier, this missing you thing, but…knowing that you’re there, going through the same thing, somehow makes it a little lighter to carry every day.

    Jane Love Tarzan
    XoXo

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: