I moved not too far from Yale New Haven Hospital on a search for a mice free environment. I loved that apartment in particular because it was the first time that I realized that I would always want more space than I needed. While I was single and living alone; my apartment in the “Hill” section of New Haven had three bedrooms. I experienced a lot while staying in that apartment. I would say that I experienced emotions as high as possible and as low as deep can get. In that apartment I graduated from SCSU, I miscarried my first pregnancy and I became homeless. Life can be eventful, to say the least.
I lived on Spring street for less than two years and I had six sexual partners. That’s wild right? How someone can have more sexual partners in two years than a human may have in a lifetime. That would be wild if you were here to judge me. However, I believe that judgment of humans by humans is for the means of survival or persecution. And, none of you are here to survive or persecute me. Besides, I can judge my damn self. I realize how that number of partners may be alarming to some; but for me at the time, it meant nothing. All of the men were not boyfriends. None of them were boyfriends. Once I stopped being with Yellow I showed out! I genuinely felt like if I knew we were headed to sex then there was no reason to bullshit around, let’s get there.
That really was a destructive mentality. Reason being is, like I said before (maybe I didn’t say it, maybe I only thought to say it; either way, I’m saying it now) I never met a man who did not want to have sex with me. Now, that statement is not meant to reflect extreme conceitedness of myself; actually, it’s the opposite. That attitude or statement is reflective of my experiences with my male counterparts. And because I mainly seemed to run into guys that had no interest in a real relationship; I was hittin’ the jackpot. Simply because I was not really interested in a relationship either. The desire to have a relationship would only arrive when I was in extreme hunger mode (and didn’t want to feed myself) or if I needed help carrying shit upstairs; other than that I only wanted to treat men like tools.
There was this one guy though. Wow! I can’t believe that I didn’t mention him in the beginning of this piece; especially because no man has impacted me the way that he did. His name was Raymond. And, while I worked at the nursing home as an aide; he worked there in the maintenance department. He was from Queens but was living in New Haven with his brothers. He and I went on dates together; like real, typical dates. We went to see The Butterfly Effect together. We went out to eat a few times. We would smoke weed after work if I didn’t have class. And, most markedly; I would cook for him and bring it to him to work if I was off. He was handsome and very tall. He and I would exchange thoughts and ideas. He would listen to my poetry and comment on it. We would listen to music together. I felt like he saw me, and that he wanted to see me. I was diggin’ him, and he was diggin’ me. We never had sex. He was the one that got away. There is so much more to say about Raymond. But, I won’t.