I dated multiple guys at the same time.
It was me and Damian, my college days coworker’s Rastafarian brother.
Me and Conrad, the Jamaican entertainment attorney.
Me and Hal, the Christian deejay.
Me and the arrogant streetcar racer, Chris.
Me and Junior, the next-door neighbor/childhood nemesis.
Me and the Latin guy, Carlos, who I met at a karaoke spot, in Miami.
Lastly, me and Floyd, the substitute teacher.
How did I spread myself so far? I was courting, in hopes of finding my person, who then I’d barricade and imprison in my love.
I desired motherhood, seven children to be exact, like my mother. I needed a husband, like my mother. As the youngest of 6, for a while, I spent every minute of the day beside my mother. I observed her lifestyle and internalized her entire world. She is nurturing. At the tender of 9, I mimicked her cooking, cleaning, praying, and quarreling when things went wrong. My mother became my inspiration for life. I saw my worth through her eyes and developed a passion to raise my own family. I entered the dating scene with fearlessness and confidence. I knew I could be the great mother and companion a husband desired.
After conducting many dates and introducing my dates to my mother, she had a dream about Floyd, the substitute teacher.
“I had a dream about Floyd, the night he slept on the living room couch. He never left. He stayed. I think that’s the one.”
My mother’s dreams and visions were nothing to disregard. I took each word serious. She always heard from God.
She was, and even in old age, is a praying woman of faith.
I quickly broke up with my dates and entered an exclusive relationship with Floyd.
We both came from impoverished backgrounds, but we desired more. Both preachers kids, we’d somehow come to share the burdens of having a family ministry. We also held the same passion for helping women, building schools and education. Oh, we both loved a bowl of peach oatmeal as a morning meal.
We dated exclusively and became intimate. I met his mother and brother before meeting the rest of his family. They approved of our relationship.
I visited his apartment daily and appreciated our shared time and space. My parents were strongly against “shacking up” living together without marriage.
After our last intimate time together, unmarried, I pitched the idea of marriage. We discussed our desire for marriage earlier in the relationship, but I felt guilty having sexual interactions out of marriage.
I asked him when are we going to get married? I told him, I’m no one’s girlfriend, I’m a wife. Then I hit him with the ultimatum, marriage or end the relationship. He said he’d think about it, and we’ll continue the conversation another day. So, I broke up with him and walked out of his apartment. I cried all the way home.
On my way home, he called me and reminded me of something we shared earlier in our relationship. He asked, “didn’t we say we were in this for the long haul?” I immediately dried my tears of frustration, and we began wedding talk.
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