There have been situations in my life where I don’t think I could see red flags in a relationship if I was in a factory that only made red flags. I was as blind as the love child of Helen Keller and Ray Charles!
I was mad about Amanda. I mean, I was MAD!
This was the Amanda redux I was telling you about. Just…full disclosure.
She was intellectually brilliant. She had a great sense of humor. She was drop dead gorgeous. And we even had similar tastes in music.
Although…red flag number one should have been her insistence that Kenny G was jazz. Here’s Wayne Shorter’s Schizophrenia. That’s what a soprano sax is supposed to sound like!
I’m a music snob, I can’t help it.
Amanda and I met at a gym I belonged to. She was one of those women who drew a crowd wherever she went. And for good reason.
She passed me by in the parking lot one afternoon and had a brief chat. And that was the beginning of what I thought would be a prosperous relationship.
At the time, she had a long-distance “boyfriend.” But I’ve seen this guy, I’m not so sure about him. My dearly departed friend and Shawnee Indian tribe member Noreen called him “pudding masquerading as a man.”
God, I miss that woman. But I digress.
I held out hope that they would end things and I’d have my opportunity.
They ended things, and I blew my opportunity. I blew it because I couldn’t bring myself to confess how I felt.
That’s not the last time that’s happened either. But I’m workin’ on it!
Anyway, I took a real chance one May. I’d never heard of the Atlanta Jazz Festival. And I invited her.
She strung me along and never declined the invitation. But she kept me on the hook the whole time.
Later that year, I made another mistake with her. I invited her to a play in town. And I knew she had tickets to the show.
She texted me on the day of the show and says that she can’t make it. But I’m welcome to use the ticket to see the show.
I was absolutely devastated by this news. I left my desk at work and I sobbed in the bathroom for a solid 30 minutes. I was crushed!
I went to the show and sat beside a woman who looked awfully familiar. With two young boys in toe.
Turns out, it was Amanda’s mother. So yeah…that was a thing that happened in my past.
I honestly don’t know if I misread her signals, or if she never gave a damn about me.
But clearly, she did. She was at my 30th birthday on a Monday.
All of this culminated on a day early in 2008. I found out that she’d been seeing this long-distance boyfriend (different than pudding pop, but somebody else) in Nashville, and I had no idea.
I should have gotten the red flag when she said she went to New York with this guy. He’s a Grammy nominated songwriter and they were there for a “songwriting weekend.”
Yeeeeeah, and I’ve got a hot date with Scarlett Johansson tomorrow. I’m flying there on my pig and meeting her for dinner at her oceanfront condo in Cairo, Egypt.
Can you tell I’m still a little bitter by this?
But this news sent me into a tailspin for weeks. I have never felt more insignificant in my life. I let her make me feel like I was 2” tall.
But it really wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault.
Amanda: I forgive you. I forgive you for thinking we were different than we were. I forgive you for meeting you at a bad time in your life with what happened with your brother. I forgive you for misreading you. And I even forgive you for pudding pop.
I forgive myself for letting what happened between us mean so much about me. I forgive myself for my insecurities getting on you. And I forgive myself for letting what you mean to me keep me from exploring myself in a romantic relationship.
Amanda, I’m sorry. We met at a scary time in my life and I wasn’t ready, even if you might’ve been. I’m sorry for the resentment I’ve carried about you, when the reality is that it’s all shame directed at me.
You deserve better. I deserve better. And reconnecting isn’t out of the question.
