The Love Experience [Part 2]: Guess Who Loves You More?

I remember that I used to think that no one loved me.

At that point in my life, however, my definition of love was somewhat skewered. I had a weird "Disney-fied" view on love and its associates. The streetrat will always woo the heart of the princess, all the dalmatians will find their way home, and the beauty will always see the golden heart of the beast. And all of these things were hopes and dreams; I wouldn't say that I saw anything that aggressively encouraged these thoughts. I just think that I was what they call a hopeless romantic. Always waiting for that mystical ending. Or beginning.

There were a number of girls that I was interested in. And there were always some circumstances that prevented me from really being able to love someone, always something that I didn't have. A few times, I was told that I was "too good" for their graces. (I still have no idea what that crap means.) While I've grown past those days, I feel that those experiences still haunt me in various ways in my current life.

So, once again, at that stage, with constant rejection, I was more or less left to ponder on things in my own head. I looked around and tried to assess why no one seemed to like me, or why I wasn't an option for these girls. I began to draw comparisons.

Me

• Shorter than your average
• Visually impaired
• No apparent physical ability
• A strange interest in comics and action figures (not dolls)
• Invariably reading books or writing random nothings or doodling

Them

• Tall as, or taller than your average
• 20/20  vision
• Physical dominance in every facet that mattered
• Able to recall each player in the Chicago Bulls' 1996-97 roster
• Somehow able to pass classes without once cracking a textbook

 With that evidence and the lowered self-esteem that usually comes with grade/high school bullying, I had accepted the fact that I would never really be loved as long as these prepubescent deities roamed the playground.

Until I met Ibn. I don't know what an "Ibn" is, but this lil' boy owned his name like a crown. He had captured the wily little heart of one of my many objects of affection, whom we shall call Dee. She was one of the main people who didn't take my affection towards her seriously. I'm assuming that Ibn was more of her type. He was the Alpha Male wherever he was from, and he looked to stake his claim in my world as well.

And it bewildered me that any one would want to stay by his side for any other reason than to beat some sense into him. This kid reminded me of Tupac's character in Juice, hellbent on aggression and dominance. I assume that Dee's 13 year-old loins were tempted by his 'hood demeanor, but the boy could barely form a sentence without some expletives thrown in for good measure. You know, to get his point across, 'knamean?

One event sticks out in my mind. It was at a social gathering of sorts, a few folks from the church got together to celebrate something and everyone brought their kids along. Somehow Ibn ended up in attendance. The grown folks all grouped together while the kids ran around outside, riding on bikes and playing at the nearby park. Dee and Ibn were officially, but unofficially "going with" each other. I, the eternal social nomad, was still the distant friend. Far enough to deny association, but close enough if you needed to borrow a quarter.

I began to notice something in Ibn's behavior, something that seemed to be a continuing trend that only intensified the older I got. Ibn, while young and still very dumb was for all intents and purpose was a verifiable jerk.

He seemed to care nothing for Dee. The main emotion there was a lack of emotion. The way they interacted was more like Ike and Tina. She was scared of him. And I know they were young, with no good sense in their nappy little heads. But I've seen the same sentiment as I've gotten older. Men who, while attached to their women, showed them no respect. They belittled them, disrespected them, displayed utter disregard to their feelings or their womanhood. I've seen men drain the life force from the women they've been blessed to spend time with. Push them to make decisions that only harm them. Encourage them in directions that help no one but themselves. There's no warmth there. There's no care there. There's no love there.

And I've seen women run to them, with arms and hearts wide open. Willing to give just a little bit more of their being. Compromise just a little bit more of their souls. Denying their God-given instinct and trusting a fallen, broken man. Women are incredibly strong creatures, but much of strength, I feel, has been borne from a sense of battle-weariness.

And I've said to myself, what can I do? This is more targeted to the women with whom I have no connection with. These women, I do not know, and they do not know me. That being said, my efforts are more likely to be met with skepticism and caution.

But to the women I do know, and have known? I've had one constant question on my mind. This question initially points at me, but at this current point in my life, I've come to understand what the True Answer is.

"...Guess Who Loves You More?"