Why do we say we want things like this . . . . . . . .
Or this . . . . . . . . . .
But we live like this . . . . . . . . .
I see more dysfunctional relationships now than I ever have in my thirty something years of living. It’s more popular to be the baby mother of a star athlete or an entertainer that it is to be a wife of a blue collar worker who is believes in monogamy. Think it’s far fetched? Think that the dysfunction exist only on television? Take a look around social media. How many Ray J’s do you have in your inbox? How many Joseline’s do you see on Instagram? How many single women versus married women do you know? How many of your female friends are involved with a guy who sits around playing Playstation or the new Xbox? How many of your female friends are “forever” single stating that they are waiting on their Boaz? How many guys do you know that are dealing with a chick with that K Michelle ass but have that Crazy Eyes personality?
Relationships and marriages are nothing more than fashion accessories. Instead of forming unions that strengthen each other, we have these overdue affairs that yield discontent, mistrust, and drive men and women further away from each other. We prefer to get married to a total stranger and think we know them after a couple of Cheesecake Factory dates and several sexual overtures that provided that temporary fix for our addiction. And we wonder why we are not happy! And the sad thing is, we don’t want other couples to be happy! Single people stand on the sidelines waiting for marriages to fall apart so that we can say “told you so”. We are worse than the paparazzi speaking evil on another person’s situation. Why can’t we let Jada be happy with Will? Why can’t we let Bey be happy with Jay?
So where did we go wrong? Glad you asked. We as singles stopped taking the appropriate time to learn the other person. We attempt to eliminate loneliness by any means necessary. We date people who are afraid to be themselves. We in turn are no better because we are living a charade in an attempt to be loved. We spend countless hours applying the mask in hopes that he/she will not see the scars. And that’s how we enter marriages in the Matrix today. So we enter the sanctuary unclean. Acquaintances that have divorced in the past all state the same thing: they didn’t really know their spouse. He never knew that she didn’t know how to manage money. She didn’t know that he really didn’t have a job. He didn’t know that she couldn’t cook and that all the meals she said she prepared were from various restaurants around town. She didn’t know that he gets angry when he drinks. But I digress . . . . . .
So again, where did we go wrong? In my humble opinion, I believe that we have stopped dating our friends. Let that sit for a minute. Why is it so inhumane to want your partner for life to be your friend? If you really think about your close friends and how your relationships grew, you begin to realize the amount of time that was required to develop to the point you are at now. My close friends are in the same circle as my children. For me, I have several brethren who have known me since grade school that have continued to love me through my evolution (and trust, there has been a lot of shit I’ve done to get to this point!). These brothers would post my bail money, come to my defense in a fight that I started, loan me their last, let me borrow their car so I could take a girl I liked out . . . . . you get the gist. That’s what friends do (no matter how ratchet they may be). So why doesn’t it behoove us to have someone like that in our lives as a mate? We take so much time trying to appear to be something else, afraid to be ourselves because we don’t want that potential mate to see our scars. We don’t want them to see our stretch marks. We don’t want them to see our cinnamon rolls. We want to share ourselves with others with the lights off. We are afraid to be naked with the lights on. So why is it a surprise that when the lights come on, the potential person leaves?
So I want to put all of us on the spot today. Why are we afraid to date friends? I mean really . . . . . . . .
Written by the Wednesday Gentleman