I’ve got
plenty of personality. And it ain’t half bad. No, seriously. It’s not bad at
all. At least that’s what I hear.
Gotta Go, Gotta Leave #viviangreen
I moved to
California this summer. Delta Airlines flight from connecting through my
favorite *sarcasm* city, Atlanta, Georgia. Gotta love Atlanta
Thug Life (ATL) Airport. I left straight from the office. Black pencil skit,
white kinda fitted top, cardigan, heels and luggage. Lots and lots of luggage.
A poor woman’s attempt at renewing her so called life.
No
expectations of this experience. Funny how once you get to that place where you
learn to not expect anything you actually feel at peace – kinda. Hell, you stop
hoping for the best and you stop hoping against the worst. You’re just there.
And there I was. Gate 23. Awaiting the usual fckery and foolishness of the ATL
Delta Terminal.
Somehow we
found ourselves assigned to the same moment in life. In the same row. Seats
apart.
hmmm…that
middle seat between us contained just enough oxygen for our hour plus flight;
we used way more than our allotted share. It’s not typically my custom to chat on
airplanes, but this was different. This was me on the journey in that new so
called life. hmmm…the journey. hmmm…that look on his face.
Introductions.
I can’t recall his name, but the pleasantries were exchanged with smiles. They
seemed to linger for a while in that stolen air between us. Fastened like a
stowaway in the middle seat. This moment only happening by accident. I
accidentally stopped caring about my life below sea level. He accidentally
missed his flight. I purposely asked his name. He purposely did the same.
And the conversation
took off! Thousands of miles above and away from our realities he spoke to me.
We talked about everything. Who we were. What we’ve been. I learned that he was
Air-Ree-Tree-An (Eritrean) not to be confused with Eer-Ree-Tree-An. I’m such a gottdamn
American. So out of tune with my African.
We were both
in between lives in the midst of the friendly skies. Me beginning a new career;
him amidst the plans of another one. Me hoping for love; him ready to vow to
his. Two youngsters wondering secretly what exactly wasn’t happening with each
word exchanged after those names.
As the plane
descended our curiosity ascended. How exactly would this end? We weren’t
exactly friends. And though I would soon find myself working in the city he
lives in, it’s clearly visible in the cloudy conversation what this is.
We
de-boarded the plane attempting to go our separate ways to the same gate. To await
the same plane taking us both to California. A few rows apart. Before we
started walking to the tram to Terminal B, to Gate 19, another passenger from
that flight interrupted my anxious thinking…
Passenger: “Excuse me…
*awkward white-guy smile* You have a great personality!”
Me: *surprised* “Um… *awkward black-girl face* Thank you.”
Passenger: “You really
do.”
And he left.
Making his way to some unknown departure gate.
My California
bound friend and I walked to Gate B19. He marveled at my mastery of Jessica
Simpson’s five-inch heels. I watched our bags while he got us drinks. We
excused each other to make/return our significant phone calls. A few more words
were shared while watching our different zones take us to our nearby rows.
Confessions #usher
I was
planning to meet a friend for drinks. A male friend. Drinks. Friendly zoned drinks.
Right? Only our schedules got a bit messed up and we decided to put the meet-up
off until the next week. No big, right? As the phone conversation seems like
it’s about to end, he asks… *out the friendly zoned skies*
Friend: “Would you
have been receptive if I tried something with you that night?” #curiosity
Me: “Tried something? What are you talking
about?” #confusion
Friend: “You know, when we were in DC. If I had made
an intimate advance at you, what would you have done?” #clarity
Me: “Well, um, I would have been hella
surprised. I really can’t say. I never thought of you that way. I never thought
you thought of me that way…” #clueless
Welp. Now we
have to talk about this. I’m uncomfortable, but I’m curious as hell. I honestly
thought we were just friends. I had no idea that there was some actual,
legitimate truth, in those damn jokes. I mean damn. We’re homeys. But obviously
he might be interested in getting some love from his homey-friend. *here we go
my friend*
So he tells
me that I’m amazing. I’m so
beautiful. I’m hella funny. He likes communicating with me. And, my personality
you ask? It seals the deal! He went on and on about my personality. Like ON
& ON! It was crazy listening to this man tell me how awesome I am. Well,
almost awesome.
I asked him,
that if he felt that way, why did he not act on that feeling? I mean he’s a
single a man. I’m a single woman. He’s interested in me. I’m clueless about his
interest. This means he should do something about it, right? Well, here’s the
thing. I might have an attractive personality, but it’s lodged in a gentle
innocence. And he just wouldn’t forgive himself if he did something to tarnish that.
The only reason we’re having this conversation right now is because his
curiosity got the best of him.
Piece It Together #zhané&willdowning
Do you know
the first thing that came to mind when that passenger insisted on remarking on
my personality? Same thing that came to mind at the onset of the homey – (not
my) lover – friend conversation. “Well, I
must not be as cute as I thought I was…” I mean come on. You know what’s
said and assumed when someone says, “S/He’s
got a great personality!”
Right. You thought it too. The personality is (oftentimes) the most attractive
thing on them. Or – all of that person’s “cute” is on the inside.
I don’t
believe that I’m ugly. I once did. I don’t anymore. That took some time. I
think my outside is cute, and obviously there are those who think the same
about my insides. But, I’m thinking that there must be something else that
isn’t quite right. Is a little bit off. Not so appealing. I haven’t been in
many relationships, committed, casual, confused or otherwise – but they’ve all
failed in their own special (kinda similar) way. So what is it? What am I
missing? Not doing? Doing wrong? I’m maybe not the reason these connections
didn’t work, but I’m damn sure part of the problem. Such a sobering thought. To
be told all of the time that you’ve got the qualities people look for in a
mate. In particular, a quality that seems rare – hard to find – vital to making
a real connection. But for all those reasons why, I’M not it.
I suppose I
should take it as a compliment. In these instances, there were very kinds words
imparted to me. I had a lovely quality that someone noticed. Something they
didn’t have to share with me. In a way, kinda went out of their way to tell me.
I made an impression. A good one. I mean, this is who I’ve always been. My
whole life. 30 some odd years of perfecting this, eh? I just wish that good,
that good feeling lasted longer.
 |
| Fair Question. I'm not offended. lol |
I’ve often
wondered why I am the way that I am. Wondered what it is about this personality
of mine. While the jury may not have been able to come to a verdict on some of
my other qualities, they are consistent in their ruling on my personality. I
have yet to meet someone who thinks it’s anything less than attractive,
surprising, pleasant, lovely… (I could go on). What’s the big deal about
personality anyway? People speak of it like it’s so important, but when it gets
right down to it, it doesn’t seem like it means much. Mine hasn’t changed. But
somehow something else about me seems different, or not as appealing. Or I
don’t know… What’s the point of even bringing it up? Anyway, no use in ranting
about it. I just wish that it was enough. That it was magnetic enough.
Interesting enough. Amazing enough. But, if I’ve learned something, I’ve
learned this: it’s not enough.
* emphasis on if *
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