Hiatus

I was tired. Tired of disappointments, tired of obsessing, tired of sobbing myself to sleep, tired of everything. I could take no more. My happiness, my focus, my thoughts, my entire life was stifled. I desperately needed a break. So, on February 29, 2004 I gave up men for thirty days. No phone calls, no emails, no IMs, no dates, no number exchanges, nothing! Clubs were off limits to keep from even entering the mating environment. I was shifting my energy elsewhere. Men had taken up way too much of my time. Coaxing, convincing, caring, crying, carrying on, commiserating, craving, conversing, climaxing, cooling off, conniving, crushing, calling, caving, I had done too much, with only a tear soaked pillow and fleeting memories to show for all the effort. I refused to let any man occupy a single thought for an entire month. I was fasting with all that it entails, including prayer and Bible study. I needed strength and purpose to make it through thirty days and God was the only one to give it to me.

The tricky thing about trying not to think about men is that it only makes you think about them more. Having to remember not to remember only makes the memories rush faster. And rush they did. Memories haunted me, chasing me into sleep and welcoming me awake. The harder I tried to push them away, the faster they came. I began counting the days, until I wouldn't have to not think. I concentrated on putting together thoughtless minutes hoping they would become thoughtless hours. Needless to say the fast didn't work the way I planned it. But there was no way it could have. I couldn't focus on God when I was focused on escaping men.

Two years later, I'm tired again. But this time something is different. Disinterest has replaced disappointment, disenchantment traded in for disgust. Basically, I could care less and would rather not be bothered, period. I’m not trying to take a step back, I’m already disengaged.

I guess this has been coming for a long time. I haven’t been genuinely interested in anyone for months. Being embroiled in dating dramas or at the very least having a crush has always been a staple in my life. There is no one for me to like and using memories to fill the void just isn’t working for me. Living off recycled feelings from relationships that have long since died has become beyond pathetic. It needed to stop before I disowned myself due to an inability to respect myself in the morning.

Meeting someone new is a hassle I’m unwilling to endure. I know the situation is bad when I’m on an international phone call with my other half, Jailbait (many men could’ve gone to prison before her 18^th birthday) complaining, “He’s too nice. He wouldn’t stop complimenting me.” When Flatty Girl made us a new friend last weekend, the fact that he was 6’5” with an uncanny resemblance to Khalil Cain (Raheim from the movie Juice, for those of you who don’t know) – meaning he could get it – wasn’t enough to make me care for more than 20 minutes. Dates are more like interviews and I’d rather save the Q&A for someone who’s gonna pay me every other week. In junior high, a successful party was measured by how many boys I danced with. Now, a successful night at the club is measured by how many men I can avoid. Dancing by myself tends to burn more calories than deflecting the wandering hands of a horny dance partner. Guess which one I choose.

I’m not so naïve to think I can’t be dissuaded from my disillusion. But I don’t want to be. I know myself well enough to know that I’m most vulnerable to temptation when I’m caught off guard. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve said, “But I wasn’t even interested in him at first,” after losing my clothes in freak dating accidents. Luckily, I already know who to stay away from and it's really no chore to do that. So, I find myself in familiar, yet new territory. I’m more than tired, I’m sick and tired, with an emphasis on the sick. Lately, men have started to make me itch (not down there). I’m hanging out on the sidelines, but this time I’m not wishing I could play the game. I’d rather occupy my time with anything else. I’m fasting again, but screw 30 days. This one’s lasting indefinitely.