I was sitting at my desk or as I called it, Cubicle Hell. I had just come out of an hour and a half long meeting the last thirty minutes of which I spent fighting the urge to slit my wrist. Trust me, the goings on at Guantanamo Bay had
nothing on the torture I endured by the meeting-happy, diarrhea-of-the-mouth-having suits at my job. To say that they are in love with sound of their own voices would be a huge understatement.
In an effort to shake off the effects of that painful meeting and focus on actual work, I rubbed the belly of my laughing Buddha figurine I keep next to my computer monitor and read one of the many quotes that was pinned to the wall of
my cubicle.
Today might not have been your day, yet tomorrow brings fresh hope for he who believes in the power of his dreams.
Just when I was about to run a report to check the profit margins of our west coast showrooms, my desk phone began to ring.
“This is Kioni”, I said.
“Hi Kioni, it’s Peggy at the front desk. You have a visitor.”
“Ooh-kay…does this visitor have a name?” I asked cautiously.
She paused for a moment. “He said it’s a surprise. But if I were you, I’d hurry. He’s very handsome.”
Very handsome?” I thought to myself. “Yeah, most of my psycho ex-boyfriends are.”
“OK Peggy” I sighed. “I’ll be right down.”
“Really?” I said to myself as I gently rubbed my temples. First I had to suffer through another boring department meeting, now I had to deal with an unexpected visitor. Who comes to someone’s place of employment unannounced and uninvited?
I hadn’t been in a serious relationship for almost a year but for some reason, I’d always been a magnet for clingy men who didn’t understand the concept of a breakup. I was convinced that it was one of my last three ex’s here to plead his case for reconciliation.
I got up from my desk and headed toward the elevator. As I walked down the hallway, I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the wall mirrors. Red was definitely my color and I was wearing all red everything. A form fitting dress and 5 inch
heels. At least the poor schmuck who was waiting downstairs would have the pleasure of an eyegasm before I showed him to the door.
That being said, I was growing more and more annoyed as I took the elevator to the first floor. As the number one lit up above the doors, I took in a deep breath and told myself that I wouldn’t act a fool regardless of who was waiting for
me in the lobby. Once the doors opened, my jaw dropped and my frustration vanished in an instant. It wasn’t one of my ex-boyfriends. It was Dallas Jennings. Was I surprised? Absolutely.
If I had to describe Dallas Jennings in one word, it would be PERFECTION. If he were a stone, he’d be
Mons Calpe, the Rock of Gibraltar. If he were water, he’d be Cape Agulhas in South Africa. If he were music, he’d be Flamenco Sketches by Miles Davis. And if he were a piece of art, he’d certainly be Michelangelo's statue of David. He’s strong and beautiful
and soothing and masculine all at the same time. He’s perfection. In every way.
Dallas and I had known each other for a very long time, but we were never in a real relationship. Hell, he'd never even taken me out on a date. Our amity was more of the hedonistic kind. Or at least it started off that way. From the very
beginning, we had the most amazing chemistry. And regardless of whether or not he had someone in his life or I had someone in mine, we surrendered to that chemistry on and off for well over a decade.
I don’t remember at what point my feelings for Dallas changed. I fell for him the same way I often fell asleep. Slowly, and then all at once. I went from simply loving the sex to loving the man, and I desperately wanted him to love me too.
Before I met Dallas, I never believed in soul mates or the idea of Mr. Right. I’d known many Mr. Right-Nows and Mr. Has-Beens.
But Dallas? He slowly became my Mr. Always-Was-And-Always-Will-Be. My friends said that I was just dickmotized and that may very well have been true at one point. But now, it was so much more than that. I mean, I went through life, trying to cope with the
weight of the world on my shoulders. I was anxious and afraid and stressed almost all the time. But then, there were those nights when this incredible force of nature would walk through my door and all of that angst slowly disappeared like the morning mist.
Dallas made my soul happy. He made me feel alive and complete. Everything made since when Dallas was around. Not to mention, he was definitely easy on the eyes. He’s the quintessential tall, dark and handsome man who could easily grace
the cover of Esquire, GQ, or XXL Magazine. He’s smart and he’s funny. He’s ambitious and focused. He’s inspiring and he makes me feel like a woman. He’s perfection, in every way.
Whenever Dallas and I would spend time together, I felt safe. Like nothing and no one in the world could hurt me. No one that is, except Dallas himself. You see, in all the years that we were seeing each other, not once did he ever bring up the subject of a
committed relationship. And in the beginning, I didn’t want that either. But after so many years of connecting in the most beautiful and meaningful of ways, I’d fallen madly in love with him. Our bond seemed almost spiritual. He was all I ever thought about.
There was this remarkable energy between Dallas and I. One that I’ve never felt with anyone else. Our bodies would intertwine so perfectly like vigorous wisteria interlacing with lattice. Every second with him was special and at the same
time agonizing. Agonizing because each time he walked out the door with the right and probably every intention of seeing other women, he left me feeling pathetic and desperate. I would feel unworthy. Unpretty. He told me many times that what we had wasn’t
just about sex however, all evidence was to the contrary. Sure there were glimpses of sincerity. There were certain ways that he would look at me. Words that he would whisper to me. There were moments that suggested that we were in fact on the same page. But,
there were more moments when it seemed like bad acting on his part. Often, I felt like Dallas was telling me what he thought I wanted to hear.
Ours was a rollercoaster ride I tried to get off of so many times. Over and over I would tell him that I couldn’t see him anymore. And over and over I’d receive a text or a phone call that would send me running right back into his arms.
Despite the fact he left tiny dents in my heart every time he left without asking me to be his woman, I felt as though I needed him in my life just as much as I needed air, water and food.
Quod me nutrit me destruit. When it came to Dallas Jennings, my heart was a masochist hell bent on self-destruction.
But all that changed in February of this year.
It was the 17th of February, my birthday. And I spent it alone. I received several text messages from Dallas that day. None of which acknowledged the anniversary of my birth. Two simple words. Happy Birthday. That’s all I wanted. It was
the least he could have done if he cared the way he claimed to.
Later that night, I was sitting on my sofa staring at the spot where Dallas should have been. I was listening to an Isley Brother’s CD and sipping on some Jamaican Rum with a drop or two of Coca Cola. Heartbroken, I finally accepted the
fact that things between Dallas and I were never going to be more than what they were at that moment. I also acknowledged the part that I played in this situation. I never required anything of Dallas. I entered into a physical relationship with a lady’s man
then allowed myself to catch feelings. How stupid! Regardless of what Dallas had said in the past, I was nothing more than a booty call. A jump-off. His nymph. I never asked for lady-like treatment. And at this point, it was too late to change the game or
the player.
No more.
I refused to spend another second of my life being a slave to Dallas or to my emotions. Waiting for his love was spirit breaking. Trying not to love him proved impossible. Not knowing which to do anymore was torment of the worst kind. I
ended things with Dallas. I cried for days and felt physically ill. But this time I was determined that it was over for good.
That was three months ago. But now, now that I had finally reached a point where it didn’t hurt like hell, there he was standing in the lobby looking even better than ever. I wanted to run into his arms. Instead, I put on my best poker
face and tried to contain my excitement.
“Hello beautiful.” He said as I approached him.
Dallas had a deep, sexy voice that caused me to morph into a 12-year old girl every time he spoke to me. I started to fidget and play with my hair. I looked down at the floor. Out the door. Everywhere but into those intoxicating almond
shaped eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked without making eye contact.
“I needed to see you.” He replied.
“OK…well, here I am. What’s up?”
Suddenly, Dallas looked nervous. Scared almost. He just stood there looking at me as if he were lost for words.
“Dallas? What’s up?" I asked again. “Are you OK?”
Dallas dropped down to one knee. At first I was confused. “What the hell is this man doing?” I thought to myself. But when he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small box, my eyes widened and I felt my body begin to tremble.
Dallas opened the box and took out the most exquisite 1 carat princess cut diamond solitaires I had ever seen. “Kioni, I’ve missed you like crazy. I don’t want to be away from you ever again. Will you marry me? Say yes!”
Dallas’ words were halting, but they were the most beautiful words I’d ever heard. I literally couldn’t speak. We looked at each other tearfully, then I nodded my head yes.
He stood up and wrapped his arms around me. I was convinced that this is what heaven feels like.
“Dallas, don’t ever let go.” I whispered. "Don't ever let me go!”
When I woke up from my dream there was a second when I believed that I would soon have Dallas’ last name. I swear to you, I wanted to live in that second forever. But with the next second came clarity. I was in bed alone. I hadn’t heard
from Dallas in several months. And I had gotten what I wanted…I think.
I had given up moments that were spectacular for the peace that came with nothing special. I had to. I wouldn't have survived otherwise. In reality Dallas was flawed, but aren’t we all? He was a little shady and a player for life. In my
dreams however, he was perfection in every way.
Perfect or not, I love him immensely. And I know that I will do so for the rest of my life.
Copyright © 2014 Yolanda Harris All rights reserved.
