This Shit Ain't a Fairy Tale

Yesterday morning, on my way in, I could see Champ inside on a treadmill.

I walked in and checked the place out - eyes armed with waterproof mascara . That heifer was on ‘my’ machine again. Over where Champ was someone was on his right but I didn’t want to get on the machine on his left. It’s too early in our ‘relationship’ to be a stalker.

I got on a treadmill in the row behind him and unloaded my gear: bottle of water, towel, asthma inhaler, and lip gloss… (what – I don’t carry five tubes for show, I use them bitches to be glossy!). As I adjusted the incline to 5, and began to warm up, I studied him surreptitiously. I knew that he could see me from a mirror and while he might have noted my arrival, I doubt he could see that I was staring at him.

He’s big. Solid. He doesn’t chat with the people around him. I like his bald head. He isn’t as light as I originally said. Maybe a little darker than me, but not much.

He started to run.

Damn, I just wanted to take a bite out of him.

He slowed down to a walk as I was hitting my power walk stride, then he got off and walked past me. He lifted his hand in greeting:

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I answered, slightly out of breath and sweaty.

He was going to the sauna (I assumed) and it was about that part of my workout, too. Up until then I had only seen him in the sauna once before and we hadn’t say anything to each other. Would today be different?

When I got there he was one of only two people in there.

We exchanged nods, but he was decidedly more quiet that the interviewer he had been two days before. Not one to push a man like him (he’s too much like Miles in that respect) I let him initiate the conversation.

He did about three minutes in. We talked about grocery stores of all things. I used to go to the grocery store he goes to… the prices are cheaper, but dammit there are always lines, so I switched over to the cleaner, less crowded (read: more expensive) one:

“It’s too expensive over there,” Champ pointed out.

“My time is money,” I reasoned.

“My, my, my… don’t you pay attention,” I said, impressed.

“I’m supposed to listen, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” I answered simply, “You are.”

As I walked through the parking lot, I saw the shadow of his hand lifted in a black suv with tinted windows. I raised my hand to acknowledge him.

His truck suited him. I fleetingly thought of how Miles’ car did not suit him, ever since the accident he’s been driving a little beat up used car. I shook the thought of Miles from my head.

The engine of Champ’s truck growled as he drove out of the parking lot.

I caught up to him at the light and motioned for him to lower his passenger side window.

“What’s with the Secret Service vehicle,” I said, motioning at the expanse of black paint and dark tint, “You escort the President or something?”

“Yeah, he’s back there now,” he turned, as if to prove his point, “Mr. President, didn’t I tell you to put your seat belt on?”

:::

I would be lying if I said that Champ doesn’t make me miss Miles.

He does.

Miles is brown, Champ is light. Miles is 5’11, Champ is 6’2 – they don’t look anything alike, but its that quiet/serious, no nonsense demeanor. They aren’t the talk, talk, jibber, jabber types. They are some about business fools.

Damn, Champ makes me miss Miles. He makes me yearn for My Miles.

I called Miles at work that afternoon.

When he answered he was quiet, serious, and no nonsense – there was no jibber jabber. I fussed a little because I hadn’t heard from him, telling him that even though I know he cut off his extra curricular activities and that he hates to be babied, that I am concerned about him:

“Aren’t you concerned about me,” I asked him.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

I would see Cute Guy at Work from my window again that afternoon. But instead of leaving after him, his car was still parking in the parking lot as I drove out the gate.

*sigh*

:::

Steve called last night at his customary time. Did y’all know he calls me the same time every night? He does. You know he works nights, so every night he goes to work twenty minutes early, then calls me. Every night. At 9:30 PM.

Anyway.

We had some small talk, about the gym and such and about how The Girls and I were going out this Friday. I told him that The Girls wanted to meet some men.

“So you’re going to introduce them to some,” he probed.

“Hell, no, we’re going to go look for some.”

Yes. I said that – out loud. Well, it’s true!! We’d have been rid of his ass a long time ago if it weren’t for that good good he got! It’s got me calling him Daddy and all other sorts of nonsense.

Of course Steve started laughing at my slick mouth, but then I got real on his ass:

Mia: No, our real problem is that we don’t want the same thing…

Steve: [interrupting] Don’t say that, you don’t know that, you don’t know what I want, you don’t know where I want our relationship to go…

Mia: Okay, okay, well, how about this – we don’t want the same thing from each other…

Steve: I’ve told you before, this isn’t about you. I just have to get past alone type behavior, I’ve been like this for a long time.

Mia: Hah! You’re selfish – no, self-centered!

Steve: But I am not mean to you. I might not be doing what I should be doing, but I would never do you wrong. I would leave you before I did that. I think everyone is self-centered to some degree.

Mia: To some degree, but I put my man before myself. The trick is to make sure my man is worth it, a man that won’t take advantage of me – if my first concern is my man, and my man’s first concern is me… then we’ll be okay. Let’s try this then… we want the same things – you just don’t want them from me.

Steve: That’s not true! I like you, you’re a good girl. I’m telling you – this isn’t about you. And maybe if you stopped talking shit long enough, we could move forward.

Mia: Oh, I know I’m a good girl... Steve, can we cut the shit for a minute, no joking? For five minutes, this is not about me and you. Okay? Look. You want kids, right?

Steve: I want one or two.

Mia: Well, baby, you ain’t no spring chicken. You are closing in on 40. You say you want to be young enough to run up and down the basketball court with your child – well, to be serious, he (or she) has to be at least about ten. That would make you almost 50. How old do you want to be when your child graduates high school?

Steve: There is still time.

Mia: True, but not much. Let’s take into account that you want to know the woman you have children with. That’s going to cut about a year off the equation. Do you want to be married to her?

Steve: Eventually.

Mia: Okay, well these are all time consuming things that you need to think about – whether or not we end up together.

Steve: I gotta go clock in to work.

Mia: I bet you do.

That was last night. This morning I got up on time and headed to the gym to see Champ.

After some thought, I think he really does have a girlfriend. I’ve decided to ‘innocently’ make those enchiladas for him and be done with it. See all that you could have had, if you had only had the foresight to know I was coming…

And truthfully, this morning I got very bad Miles Pains when I was near Champ.

*sigh*

The pains were so intense that I had no recourse but to email Miles when I got in:

Mia: Hey there! It’s a wonderful day on this side of town... how about on yours?

I was wondering... does your cap on extracurricular activities also put a moratorium on coming over to my place for dinner and watching a little cable television? This isn’t an invitation – just a fact finding mission.

Miles: Boring, working, dying...

Not really, but I’m just in a far-off place right now doing a whole lot.

Mia: Far off literally or figuratively?

Miles: Both.

Mia: Well, if you are literally Far Off you can come stay with me if you want to. Oh, don’t get your boxers in a bunch, Daddy, you know I’m teasing.

As for figuratively Far Off... well... You know me. You know I want to fix any problem you have, make everything all better. You know that I would wrap you up in my own brand of suburban bred love and safety, if I could.

But I know that you don’t want that from me.

I want you to know that some part of me has always belonged to you, conventional relationship be damned. And, as always, I am here for you should you ever decide that you do need my help or my ear or my love.

Until then, just try to come back from Far Off soon, I miss you terribly.

I couldn’t fall asleep late last night,
Thinking what we had just might be all over, baby

[…]

But from what I’m feeling inside,
Boy I’m yours, and boy, you’re mine
And even if I said I was leaving, babe,
I couldn’t picture no more you and me
See, I ain’t perfect babe, and you ain’t perfect, baby,
So listen to the realest thing that I can say:

Sometimes it’s a struggle, babe,
And it only hurts cause I love you, baby
And for what it’s worth, I will struggle, babe,
Cause I wanna be in your life,
So I’mma keep trying
Over and over and over and over again,
Over and over and over again
(Till we get it right baby)
Over and over and over and over again...

- Ashanti
Struggle

Don’t you hate when you’re forced to quote Ashanti lyrics?!? But sometimes they work, what do you do?

And no worries… I still plan on moving on. It’s just going to take time. If nothing else, Steve doesn’t give me Miles Pains – all Champ does is make me think of Miles.