Lifestyle: Lurking (Real)

Originally posted on Not One of Yo Lil Friends: https://notoneofyolilfriends.home.blog/2018/12/31/lurking-real-life/

December 31, 2018:

By Jaya Montague

My grandmother called on the phone and “Harold” sat downstairs. My friends and I got ready before we went to the bar.

“What should I do?” The lowering cadence of my grandmother spoke onto the other line.

I put on my robe and I sped-walked two flights when I saw Harold cross-legged in his black polo and dark jeans. The family lessons I learned in the past made a man chasing a woman okay. A woman in this society learns to accept catcalls and arms gripping.

He terrified me.

Every other day, my “Oakland” ringtone play since Harold waited for me to answer. Since the recollection of my body as a woman, the chill hit my veins because I told him “no.” Here he claimed he owned me since I didn’t “own myself.”

“Wanted to see how you were doing,” Harold said, reclining on the love seat.

We sat from each other. I wasn’t sure if he would lock the door. We lived near each other. Harold pulled the cord on the side and put his feet up.

“The last thing I thought is that you stopped talking to me,” Harold said half-smiling.

He was on my right and my growing frustration was sitting on my left.

“Why did I have to run away from not wanting someone anymore?” I wondered.

We stopped dating after a FaceTime call since he lied and said a girl was in his apartment. Harold grabbed my hand and said, “I want you back.”

The strength didn’t last long since I was dealing with someone who got angry before because I didn’t call him at 9 PM.

“Toxic masculinity” is a term that is entering the everyday language. Patriarchy charges by power and when it’s gone, the source wants to regain control. Harold was the same. There are many cases of women like Janese Talton-Jackson.

Jackson ignored a man because he wanted to talk to her at a bar and he shot her in the chest. With those cases in mind, I talked to Harold. Saying no to him trying to “get me back” could be deadly.

He came in an Uber telling no one and the only person downstairs.

I looked up from the chair, reached my hand back, and said, “I refuse to let you put me in a place where I’m unloved and to leave.”

“Fine, but where are you going tonight,” he said pulling for my arm.

I looked at my feet and counted my toes.

I said, “you have to leave.”

There was a peace when he left. I accepted my last stand. He touched my hand one more time when he said: “this is why we’re perfect for each other.”

Months later since this happened, however, I hope I helped him understand that it was not okay. I doubt it, but I learned that night. It is not my job or the burden of any woman to pacify egos.

Even with the risk of harm.

I know that going through Harold was difficult, but I knew I wouldn’t feel better if I let fear confine me. Harold noticed fear too. He wanted me without my emotions or thoughts.

I used to wonder how having enough would be.

I thought that my “Waiting to Exhale” moment would be an “Angela Bassett walk away” from the inferno of a bad situation.

He needed flesh in his room and silence for him to spread his perspective. I didn’t have to find “enough” in a movie script for it to enter my body. I realized my moment was saying “okay” and locking the door.