Fell In Love With A Boy -- Joss Stone

Okay, so I’ve been trying to blog for the last few weeks but between working 70 hours a week and just feeling generally uninspired, this has not quite come to fruition. But now, I have no choice. Because I need to blog about this issue to clear my head and really decide how I feel about this particular subject.

Today is Charter Day. This is largely insignificant to me save for the fact that it is a celebration of the day that my alma mater received its charter (I presume) and had that day not occurred, this blogger’s life might have turned out very, very differently. The college throws a huge shebang every year – like, really swanky – black-tie, dinner dress, expensive jewelry, dress-to-impress, live band, five-course meal kinda swanky– and I have never had the pleasure of being invited. Not throughout all my years of being courted by different companies, being in leadership positions in various organizations, being friends with people who move and shake things. Never. Not that I am bitter or anything, but I’m just saying. ANYWAY, this is not the point. The point is that I was invited this year by a friend and while its always fun to get dolled up and hang out with the college peeps, there is one college peep that I am not sure that I want to see, but at the same, 100% sure that if I don’t see, the night would be a total and complete waste of my time. Let’s call him Mr. Big. According to my sources, he was at the event last year, which attracts alumni from far and wide and in particular, New York City.

Let me give you the back-story of Mr. Big. I tend to think of him as The One That Got Away – every other guy that I have ever crushed on, talked to, dreamt of, been out with pales in significance when pitted against Mr Big. He made me believe that even I deserved someone great, who was smart and generous and sexy and tall, dark and handsome. And NIGERIAN! (Whoever saw that one coming???) He was one of those who I didn’t even let myself think about because I thought he was so far out of my league, but then he started talking to me. And we grew closer and the next thing I know, he was traveling to Europe and sending me postcards and buying me my favorite chocolates and meeting my family, who took to him like white on rice (very unusual I think, if you knew my family) and insisting on introducing me to his mum and being ridiculously gracious to my friends. And then one day, it all switched off and I began to feel like I was a nuisance to him so I stopped calling and he stopped calling, so we stopped talking. And that was that. No resolution. No closure. No Mr. Big.

My pride which kept me from getting to know him sooner also kept me from reconnecting with him the few times that our paths kinda sorta crossed (he’d show up at Charter Day and talk to Ri about how he needs to call me and how he misses talking to me or he’d bump into my baby bro at a recruiting session and prank-call me from his phone). I tried to push him as far into the recesses of my mind as I could for my own self-preservation and sanity. And for my pride.

So it is that I find myself now ready to deal with my Mr. Big; to see him and talk to him and make him see just how fabulous I really am. Just so it hurts even more when I flip the script and walk out on him.