HAIR RAISING DISCUSSIONS

Went to get the hair braided yesterday. The usual. Sixteen cornbraids with a little hair added to give my nat’ral some support. This takes about 3 hours. Sometimes longer if the shop is crowded or we’re talking smack. Smack covers a wide variety of topics: politics, music, film (my favorite), race, religion, gender, sex and men (I love when we talk about sex and men).



This shop, in the “unnamed county 30 miles east of Alabama,” is both a barber shop and a beauty salon. Sometimes there are a lot of men in there, sometimes there are a lot of women, too. Yesterday, the place was packed. However, my beautician, “Lisa,” had an opening, so I sort of glided on through. After she washed and trimmed my hair, I began talking with the beautician next to her “Judy.” It started with “How were your holidays?” From there we discussed the movies we have seen lately, family updates, and other community tidbits.

Four braids later, I noticed a stare. Not just any stare; a long gazing look that could not be mistaken for anything else, but someone checking me out. For about 15 minutes, I honestly thought I was being paranoid, especially with my hair all over my head. Then Judy picked up on it, too, and discreetly proceeded to tease me about it. You see, my admirer was without question, old enough to be my father, or perhaps even my grandfather.

Needless to say, this disturbed me. Genereally, I don’t like going to a salon to get my hair done. I feel this is time I could be writing or watching a movie. But I'm forced to admit that in order to keep my “quaff” looking half-way decent, off to the salon I must go. Plus, the beauty parlor has become my muse of sorts; I usually gain some insight and something to write about. When it became apparent that this mature gentleman was digging me, I realized that I had not yet been inspired. Now, with him drooling over me, I was ready to get the hell out of there, but minus the usual inspiration.

I have been hit on by older men before; especially while in the military (there must be some sort of “Sugar Daddy Sergeants,” club). Yet, I have always been able to politely advise that I am not interested and that they should move on. Yesterday, I was in an unusual predicament. Should I get up out of the chair, walk over and say, “Look Pop-pop, I am not interested in your dusty-ass”? Or would picking my nose, snorting at Judy’s jokes and cursing real loud turn him off?

Another beautician, “Carol,” suggested that I should entertain the advances of this well-dressed, obviously interested man. I am not hating on the May-December relationships, because How Stella Got Her Groove Back, is one of my favorite love stories (although I am sure that currently Terri rues the day she wrote that story). Still, unlike "R (Kelly)," older-younger deals are just NOT my thing. Some would argue that a woman in my position (Black, educated, with children) cannot not afford to be choosy.

About 2 years ago, I finally made the transistion from “earning a living,” to doing what I love. It took 18 years. Now I am on a financial journey. Don’t know how long it will take to accomplish my goals. Some friends who are also on the same mission and I recently discussed that having a significant other with bank could certainly help… Still, I am simultaneously on a journey to make my heart and soul happy. After a marathon of bad relationships, I have decided not to date outside of my race, and that ex-cons are just not my speed. I have friends who have told me that being so selective means I may never find anyone. And while I am sure that my decision yesterday to stay firmly within a 6 year radius (older and younger) of my age, adds even more serious limitations, I am willing to do that.

A friend recently, exasperatedly aksed, "Well, what kind of man, exactly, are you looking for?" I am sure if I could tell her, she would not have been able to pull what I desired out of her back pocket. Nevertheless, I feel silly that I could not really describe "him." However, if he were were still alive, my age and not already married, Malcolm X would embody my ideal mate. One of his quotes even suits this blog entry: A (wo)man who stands for nothing will fall for anything (anybody)."

Axe.

Currently Listening To: The Soundtrack from School Daze (favorite tracks: "Good or Bad Hair," "I Can Only Be Me")

NO ICE SKATES NECESSARY

Found myself in an awkward, emotionally painful and uncomfortable position this week; the need to speak with my best friend arose, but alas, they are unavailable...to me. Last weekend, about 4 days prior to my need, I made a severe error in judgment and made said friend of almost 7 years, angry. Not something I intended to do, but it occurred nonetheless. The deed is done.

Of course, I thought about this friend on the 3-hour drive back from visiting them. Ironically, the radio show I was listening to while driving dealt with forgiveness, or more specifically, why people choose not to forgive for so long. I listened intently, trying to stay focused as traffic grew thick in certain areas. I was convinced that my transgression would be forgotten before night fall. This friend always made sure that I arrived home safely and would be calling, or at the very least sending a text asking if I had in fact made it in okay. Yes, I assured myself, they wouldn’t be able to sleep until they knew I was safe. Besides, I had already apologized—and I meant it, too, so there was nothing else left.

Or was there?

The sun set and rose again. Then it set and rose again. It has repeated these actions several times over and I still had not heard a word, nor a syllable from my friend—or I guess I should say ex-friend now…?

What I had forgotten is that when people hurt, whether it is physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally, they need time to heal. Sometimes, unfortunately, they may never heal. I hope this is not the case with my friend, whom I took major advantage of in a fit of neglectfulness cause purely by selfishness. What I did, exactly, is not important. But the fact that I was looking out for number one without considering anyone else’s feelings is cold-blooded and cold-hearted. While I deserve to be called a number of things, I would not want to thought of as an unfeeling, mean bitch…well, the latter is okay if used in the right context.

Never say never, but, hurting someone and letting them down is the worse feeling in the world and I hope to never feel this way again. This person became my friend with the expectation that I would always treat them with respect and not act an ass. Of course, people do not come out and ask, “Are you going to screw me over? Cause if so, we cannot be friends…”

I pray that someday I will get a second chance to be a true friend again to this person. However, at the moment, they probably wouldn’t consider my friendship, even, “if hell freezes over.”

Oh yeah, the point: if you have friends, cherish them. And let them know how much they mean to you.

It takes a lifetime to find and keep good friends, but only takes a second to destroy a friendship.

Axe.

Currently Listening To: Giving Up by Donny Hathaway