I’ve been called “babe” a lot in my life. And not in a she’s hot and sexy type of way (LOL) but strictly as a term of endearment. And that four letter word can make you feel so many things. Things you shouldn’t feel.
“Babe” will trick you, and have you feeling like you’re someone special to someone who’s really not that into you and really isn’t that special to you. But – that’s the thing…men know what to say, don’t they? Some men are simply pros at hitting the sentimental nail on the head and then driving it home.
I’m no one’s babe, really. So, I wonder why these men insist on calling me babe. What happened to my name? Have they forgotten it? Or perhaps they never knew it at all.
There are other terms of endearment that people give in to when we’re feeling our way around that awkward getting-to-know-you phase. And those carefully placed terms of endearment are supposed to make it easier isn’t it? It gives a false sense of intimacy that I guess is supposed to help things along. I personally don’t like to use terms of endearment unless I really feel interested. If I don’t feel that (like you’re a sweetheart, or my honey) then it feels stiff and foreign rolling off the tongue. And then I’m left sounding distant and removed while you eagerly call me Babe…
As I waited for sleep
I forgot how to love
What is that?
I’m not sure…
I can’t imagine that tenderness
With a man
Him next to me
Why would he do that?
I don’t know who He is…
All I do is pretend
That each one could be the one
And they’re not
I always know it from the start…
I always get stuck sitting in front of a restless traveler. They fidget, and fuss, turn, and are generally jumpy, making me agitated and annoyed. And then, there are the stories.I always get stuck listening to their stories. Stories that may or may not make sense to me but I don’t really care to hear them either way. Naming people I don’t know, informing me of things I’d prefer to remain ignorant about. My mind is filled with enough clutter and information. Why give me more to process, and digest? I’m automatically polite, thankfully, so that I can respond appropriately – because I do feel compelled to respond. If I am the only stranger in the world who will hear your woes, that is the least I can do.
I always get stuck waiting. Waiting on someone, waiting for things to happen, for decisions to be made, for realizations to occur.What a sordid affair…
The big O is no more
It won’t come – no pun intended
Maybe, for that you work harder, really work
Really try, because its tangible, it’s something you can feel, hear
Something you believe in – unlike feelings
My feelings to be exact
But it won’t work…
No matter your effort, because a little piece of me has died
The part that comes with acceptance
That accepts the inevitable knowledge of die-hard habits
And stubborn ways
The acceptance that nothing changes
But this will
My desire dwindles
Like sunlight, as fall beckons winter
My desire is nonexistent and I am not alarmed or ashamed
Worried or aggrieved…
I’m grown. So tell me why I can’t cuss without substituting key vowels with other symbols? I’m not sure…Perhaps a part of me thinks cursing is vulgar, crass and sort of unnecessary unless of course it is necessary. In those necessary instances, curse up a proverbial storm and then some.
I just copped (does anyone say that anymore? “copped”? Who says that? I guess I do. I’m pretty old and not as up to date on the new slang as I need to be) In The Lonely Hour by Sam Smith. Can I just say that I like every song? Every single one! The last time I liked every song was when Bon Iver dropped “Bon Iver” and that was at least 3 years ago. Damn – time flies. I listen to that album like it was released last week lol. I never get tired of it. So, Mr. Sam Smith…I really like his album. The words, the music, everything is just great. Just what I like. I can’t believe it took me so long to pay attention to him. I follow Maxwell on Instagram and he was always posting about this guy. I was just too lazy to pay attention and then one fateful, early morning last week, “Stay With Me“, came on VH1 soul. I was up because I can never sleep and I was quite taken with the song. I’m a sucka for pop and R&B and I didn’t even realize his album was coming out this week. Somehow I was signed on to the iTunes store on Tuesday by purposeful accident and Sam (yes, we’re on a first name basis) was right there looking artistically thoughtful (at least I think so…) on the album cover. I didn’t hesitate to download it. I mean, I like to support artists. I like to be paid for the work I do, and I’m sure they do as well. So yeah, the bottom line is that I’m in deep lust with Sam and I’m sure it’ll turn into another “L” word in no time.
I’m supposed to be taking a nap right now but I’m not. I’m blogging which I haven’t done in ages. I am just too preoccupied to sit down and type as I am now. I’ll write notes in my phone in a heartbeat, but somehow it never translates to a blog post anymore. Shame, shame on me. So, I’m supposed to be napping because I need to be rejuvenated for an awesome Friday night filled with laughter, and drinks, and delish food. Wherever there is food and laughter, I want to be there. Everyone proclaims to be a fat person in a skinny or not-fat body and I guess this is supposed to be a good thing. I mean…it’s rather cliché to me. I eat whatever I want, when I want. I try to be more mindful (with age comes much needed wisdom) about my food choices but seriously…I eat what I want. If I want Buffalo wings 5 days a week (I always want Buffalo wings 7 days a week) then I try not to indulge but sometimes I say eff it. Eat Buffalo wings girl, until your heart is content. I mean, my heart is so often not content, why should I deprive myself of those things that are sure to bring instantaneous, lasting (3 hrs at least!) pleasure? Anyway, enough about food. I’m salivating just thinking about it. I’m off to listen to Sam croon to me. No distractions…
Up. Watching Luther. Episode 1, Season 3. Spent 52 min 19 seconds admiring Idris. Repeating his lines, doing a very good job at doing a bad English accent lol. 5 min and 16 seconds to go and I pause it. I can’t go on. Something bad is gonna happen and I cannot face it alone. No! Not by myself. Not at 3 in the morning. Not so close to bedtime. I need wine. And someone else beside me. So I can bury my face in their shoulder and peek out at 20 second intervals. Yeah…that’s what I need.
You were in my dreams again last night and I just want to know “Why?!?!?”
Sometimes, I feel like I’m almost over the hump and I’m making it but then I go back.
Sometimes, it starts with a dream, many times a memory, a thought of concern for you.
This, I would not wish on my worst enemy.
It’s not so much a confusion as it is a longing…a gnawing and a chipping away at the shaky, half-assed resolve I think I’ve built up.
The mantra in my head, “Leave him alone” is on mute, and I can only envision the words when I close my eyes.
I can’t even say them aloud. I’m not sure I actually believe them.
They sound weak and lame but I know what I have to do; why can’t I do it?
I wonder about this hold you have on me.
It should be enough that you shunned me, that you don’t love me…
Perhaps the grip that stupidity has around my neck has choked all the good sense out of me, leaving that last lethal drop of hope in my heart…