My Memoir: A Foster Kid Learning to Love
(okay “Like” but, really, “Love” makes a better title)
The moment I realized that I liked him, or at was at least capable of liking him (maybe loving him?) was the very moment I realized that, most likely, I’d lose him. I was 21 and in my first relationship. Never mind that it all started in a way that very (very) closely resembled the beginning (and end) of almost all of my “non-relationships”. Or that we decided to start dating after we’d both parted ways, and were a couple of states apart. Forget the fact that everyone I knew looked at the both of us with a confused look on their faces. Him being the bearded lumberjack type, me being the high maintenance BAP type (BAP = Black American Princess). Forget the fact too, that we met about a month before our college graduation with the help of a few shots of vodka, some cloves, and the bad (but so very awesome) cartoon version of Sword and the Stone. And Major Payne, I love Major Payne.
Anyway, so we started dating. I was unsure about what I wanted, and so was he I suppose. Or at least that’s what he tells me now. (Unsure about the things I wanted I mean.) But I think that was probably the thing that drew him to me any way. I didn’t want him. Well, I did, at times.
You get these feelings, these pangs. Like the first time he didn’t call. I moped, waited by the phone, even knowing that he wasn’t planning to call, I waited for him. And he didn’t call (surprise, surprise). But I still woke up at three in the morning to check my texts (did he? And… nope.) I’m a logical person. I am. I’m aware of every feeling, I break apart every pang, gasp, and flutter. Until him. The guy who confuses me constantly. The one who seriously leaves me wondering if he likes me, if he wants me, if I’m being enough of myself for him, or too much. And then the wondering when it will end. Because in my mind, it will. I mean, I have this record, two and a half years. The longest “anything” I’ve ever had. And I do mean anything. Family, schools, favorite colors, everything. Though I guess if you count my first stay with the biological mom (who we shall hereafter refer to as BioMom), my record could be a little longer. That one lasted a whopping 5 years. But as I was only cognitively present for two of them, I don’t think we will. Anyway, I like him.
He just texted me by the way. Told me I was beautiful. That he did like me, he’s just confused
Writing this, I seem like that slightly melodramatic woman we all read about, scoff at, and secretly are.