Rain, books, Audrey, and f&*king MEN! or not...

I can’t think of a better place to be on a rainy day than inside a bookstore, snuggled up against a window, reading books for free. That’s where I was this past Sunday during brunch time. I had just come from getting a massage at Burke Williams that made me feel like I was Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, listening to Parisian music, smelling lavender and jasmine, and having my naked back kneaded into jelly as I lay face down inside a warm, dimly lit room. I’d woken up in a great mood that day, listening to rain trickle down my copper rain chain just outside my bedroom, and decided to head off to my spa appointment a bit earlier than scheduled so that I could take in the peace and tranquility of the spa for longer than the duration of my massage, which was only an hour. So I left my house at 8:30am and as I walked down Mills Alley in Pasadena in my hat and coat, bundled up with my scarf, I smelled freshly brewed coffee mixed in with the scent of cool rain, I spied old men writing in journals and reading the paper over a plate of crepes, and all of the “closed” signs on adjacent store fronts reminded me that most of the city was still in bed and only a handful of us had shown up to live. I love this city but I especially love it when I have a bigger share of it, like I did on Sunday morning. Without the hustle and bustle of a mass of people I can better appreciate the little things that really aren’t so little and should be appreciated. Like walking in the rain without a crowd, reading the paper over coffee and pastries during the wee hours of the morning, writing without the cacophony of traffic and chatter to distract you. Or maybe I’m just a morning person. Either way, Sunday was great. It was the best time I’d had on a Sunday in quite a while. And after my bookstore visit, I stopped into Zara and they were having a sale so I picked up two sweaters before heading home. I enjoyed myself so much, I’m thinking of doing it again if only I can drag myself out of bed to go…and if only it rained every Sunday.


Today, however, I am disappointed. I met someone and quickly decided that I liked him. He’s 40, 5’11, a trained chef, and identifies as ½ Colombian, ½ French Canadian, which most people would label as white but for some reason he does not. No matter, he’s cool and I’d had no expectations of him until he asked if he could call me yesterday. I was smiling at the thought, nervous about what we’d say to each other at first but then 5 o’clock rolled around, then 6 o’clock, then 7 and 8. At which point my smile was dead and I was beginning to think he wasn’t so cool after all. The last three guys I’ve met have all shown interest in me while I was minding my own business, opened me up to the idea of exploring more than _nothing_ with them, asked to call me…and then didn’t call when they said they would. The one before this one eventually called, and the one before that one is still confusing as hell. I’ve long since written that one off but he keeps popping up every now and then, as if to remind me that he’s still alive when I’d rather forget. Aint nobody got time for that © Sweet Brown. Sometimes I am convinced that men are more trouble than they’re worth. When I take the time to assess the value of a man the list is often short. I try to tell myself that’s because I haven’t met Him yet. I’d like to believe that He’s out there and that one day before I’m dead, when God feels it’s right, He and I will meet and it will be ordained, and I will smile and say to myself “it’s about time you showed up,” and be happy for the rest of my days. All I need is a trusted, faithful companion to grow and share with to mark off my To Do list. But noooo, these fools just have to be difficult. Why go to all of the trouble of bringing me out of my comfort zone, showing me interest, only to not follow through? I was minding my own business! Now I’m pissed. Ugh.

I’m in a good place right now. Moving forward and seeing progress in many aspects of my life. Growth is good :) It’s exciting, too. I always marvel at how far I’ve come. Boy, do I remember those days when I was always sad, stressed, and bent out of shape about something. All the things I wanted to do, dreamt of doing, saw others doing, and wondered if I’d ever do, are happening, will happen soon, or have already happened. I’m happy. I’m no longer worried. Not that everything is absolutely perfect and I wouldn’t change a thing if I could. Just that it is what it is (which aint too bad, actually) and I’m okay with it.
I miss my brother. I can still hear his voice saying “Val, this ya brotha…” on my voicemail. I can still hear him giving me words of advice about any and everything and I’m still taking heed. Whenever I need him, I just stop and ask myself “what would Darryl say?” and I have my answer. I’m better because of him. I just wish he were still here for me to tell him that. And I told him often but I loved him so much that it was never often enough. It’s still hard to believe he’s gone, and so suddenly, without warning. I loved that we looked so much alike, too. His round face helped me come to grips with my round face, lol. I looked at him and realized there was no escaping my genetics, haha. No diet, no exercise, no nothing. But sharing those genes with someone like him made me proud of them. I remember when he told me, as matter of fact and plainly as ever, that the artist guy was gay. He’d never met or laid eyes on that man but from what I told him about him, he was positive in his assessment that he was not interested in women, but preferred men. Without a doubt, artist guy was gay, lol. And he didn’t know how I couldn’t see it. I am so going to miss my big brother, though in my heart I know that I will never be without him. He left me with so much.
I went on a date the other day. This guy was cool. I’ll call him “Writer/actor Guy.” He took up theater in college and says he came to LA to write screenplays. He claimed that he and his writing partner are working on a project for Seth Rogan and Adam Sandler. A horror flick. We were first supposed to meet for coffee but that didn’t pan out. So he asked me to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory but our wires got crossed so that didn’t happen. So then he asked to take me to lunch at Gennaro’s Italian Ristorante, which ended up working. He was really nice, very chivalrous, but not as articulate as I’d expect a writer to be. He often seemed at a loss for words and whenever he’d settle on one it was quite basic and didn’t seem to convey his meaning or satisfy him. Plus, his conversation seemed to veer more towards the theater than writing, which made me believe that he was using writing as a cover for his real desire to come to Hollywood and act. His eyes lit up when he talked about his theater classes at Howard. Anyway, he wasn’t a creep or a weirdo like my last handful of dates, so I’m guessing my dates are on the upswing and getting better; although, I don’t see this one going anywhere substantial. It was clear to me that we were both looking for different things and at different points in our lives. However, I don’t think it was clear to him that despite everything (I’m established, he’s not. I’m not struggling, he is.), and all of the things we had in common, I would have made a great friend. I don’t intend to try to convince him of that, either. If he’s that dense he deserves whatever he gets. He’ll learn, eventually. But I was happy to have met him and I did enjoy our date. If he calls, I’ll answer. Afterwards, as we walked out of the restaurant, I asked him where he’d parked. I do this all the time out of habit with whomever I’m hanging out with – family, friends, everyone. He said that he’d found a spot right up front and sort of gestured towards a faded red Ford Probe, then quickly asked me where I’d parked. He said he’d walk me to my car and he did. He even opened my door for me but I got the feeling that he just didn’t want me to see his car. So when I drove away I saw him slowly walking back towards the restaurant but lagging, clearly waiting for me to be well on my way back to work before he hopped in his car and drove off. What he did for me, though, was confirm my confidence and I appreciate him for it. I kind of knew I wasn’t too shabby but now I know I aint. All of the things that I was unsure of and was always modest about, when I talked about my life on paper with him, his eyes widened and dulled. It made me realize that I should give myself way more credit than I have been. That I should appreciate way more than I have been. I AM blessed. I’m not afraid anymore, I know what I want now, and I know my worth more than I did before. Confidence feels good. And I’m still as determined as ever.