There I was minding my own business, filling my gas tank before heading in to work. It was “Fun Friday,” a day of spelling tests and dressing down. I therefore had on my “going to teach little boys” corduroy pants, not my “getting ready to school these men” jeans. I was not looking to be found. That’s when it happened. I bumped into him.
A nice, tall, fit brother was the pump 13 to my pump 12. I politely said good morning to him and cursed myself for the aforementioned fashion choice. To my surprise, however, he seemed oblivious to Old Navy and open to the Prada possibilities. We exchanged numbers and before I could punch the time clock a few blocks away he was texting me about how my smile rivaled the sun in getting his day off to a glorious start.
I found it refreshing that he didn’t stall, but broke the ‘wait three days’ before calling rule. We went from talking, to first date, to dating– faster than a NASCAR race. Putting my heart in neutral and taking some time off from dating seemed to have finally paid off. It appeared I’d traded in a pickup for luxury. Yes Triple A had come to save me honey; he was attentive, attractive and available. He quickly offered that no he wasn’t married (or in a relationship), no kids, no games. He actually wanted to go out, not just ‘get it in.’ Then one day, about a month or so later I got a call that brought things to a screeching halt.
His fiancée’s name wasn’t Charlene, but she surely burned rubber on my dreams of riding off into the sunset.
After our conversation in which she and I discovered we had been, shall I say, waiting at the same bus stop (clearly he was not a two seater), I met “Charlene” in person. Crazy I know. But there was no hair pullin’ or nail scratchin’. Instead her tearful eyes were my life’s rearview mirror. You see, almost a year prior I was in her seat. Now here I sat at a crossroads, considering yielding to temptation. Love’s multiple dead ends had me thinking about detouring from my values. Should I become The Other Woman? Or should I get out now and continue the walk alone? I decided to take the high road.
Sisters I am convinced that we are often taken for a ride because too many of us are willing to carpool, or share a man. Does he have license to lie, lure and then leave us? No. But we also shouldn’t go around giving “permits.” I’m not judging those who take this route, but I choose to believe there’s more for me. My future husband may be traveling from Jamaica on horseback and stuck in traffic, but this Mustang Sally is going to stay the course. Any step toward another woman’s man is a moving violation.
