I Let A Good One Go And I Don’t Feel Bad

I Let A Good One Go And I Don’t Feel Bad

I’m not sure about you, but I’m at the age where folks start giving you the side-eye when they find out that you’re single and childless. I mean, I get it. 30 is in the horizon and 27… well, 27 is right at the nose. Thinking back on the life plan I wrote in 9th grade, I’d be married with at least two kids by now, a homeowner, and a lucrative career as an Entertainment Exec and established writer. Big dreams for 13, I know.

The plan still is to have children. Maybe not five this late in the game, but definitely two or three. And marriage… that’s still on the table. The playlist is already saved and ever growing, the colors have been selected, and the children’s names are have been etched in my mind for as long as I can remember. Only one problem, the man… my man… y’all seen him?

Over the years, I’ve experienced a couple good men and a couple not so good ones. Each of them having had something the others didn’t is what made the ride all the more enjoyable when it came to someone new. But in all of this time, I’ve yet to come across one that had what I like to call, the trilogy – a mind, body, and soul connection. This last go round was interesting. Nate was different. Of all the others prior to his arrival, he made the most sense. He didn’t have children but wanted a few in the future. He was financially stable and didn’t need me for a damn thing — a first. He was decisive when I struggled with deciding what we’d have for dinner or when we’d go out for a date. He was on time and never complained when I needed an extra 30 minutes to get ready. Importantly, he challenged me to really think about what I had to offer a man whose survival was not dependent on my presence. 

The short version is that it didn’t work out with Nate. He was good on paper for who I am on paper, but the reality of this whole thing is that life is best lived off script. Admittedly, I struggled with riding passenger in silence despite how reassuring his grip felt on my thigh. Ignoring the truth of our encounter never brought comfort to my angst about how surface level things had become. Nate and I had different views on the world, mine typically spearing from a place of empathy and his… not so much. On script, this bud would have bloomed beautifully. 

The clocking is ticking, I know. But no clock will ever tick loud enough for me to settle on what makes sense but doesn’t feel right. The type of connection I’m after is out there, somewhere. And when I find it, the harvest will be well worth the sow.

-Yolanda Danae’