This morning my mother came into my room and told me about something she learned last night during an episode of the OWN hit show "Iyanla- Fix My Life." Girls tend to marry men who are similar to their fathers. Though she thought that she was sharing some new information, I surprised her with my confession that not only did I know already this idea but I had already identified it in my dating decisions. Upon hearing this, my mother declared, "No wonder you can't find anyone (to be in a relationship with), you are looking for your father and he is not real."
Um...what? My father is definitely real. My mother dated him for several years and created me with him. When I dug a little deeper, I found that my mother meant that looking for a man that has similar qualities and characteristics as my father is an unrealistic goal, like searching for a mythical creature that you may get sightings of but will never find. Unfortunately (for my mother), again, I had to burst her concerned motherly bubble and let her know that "my father" is real and I was in a very long, complicated relationship with him from college until 2013.
Let's call this guy Mr. WFM (wrong for me). Me and Mr. WFM met early freshmen year of college. He was charismatic, intelligent, and attractive. There was a spark between us, an immediate attraction. I remember telling my ABC (ace boon coon...her words not mine) Aisha about him and how I had never been attracted to someone like him before. We felt like kindred spirits that were meant to be in each other's lives in some way. What I didn't see coming was the role he would play in my life. The moment that our friendship moved to being more than just friends, the story of me and Mr. WFM became my friends' favorite drama-filled soap opera (or maybe more like their favorite telenovela) storyline. There were fun nights of clubbing and early morning breakfasts, cooking for each other, wide smiles, laughs, tears, love, hate, breaks, reunions, moves, shared meals, steamy sex scenes, driving lessons, girlfriends, boyfriends, yelling, sneaking around, sleepovers, shopping trips, long talks, heart to hearts, family dinners, late-night text messages, cross-country video calls, thoughts of throwing bricks through windows, and friendship.
It was a relationship. And, it was not until the beginning of the end that I realized why I couldn't shake Mr. WFM. He is my father. He is Caribbean, smart, driven, charismatic, funny, fun to be around, the life of the party, outspoken, confident, generous, cooks the yummiest food at the drop of dime, and makes a good drink. That is my father and that is Mr. WFM. No matter how many times Mr. WFM made me cry or how long I stopped talking to him, I could not let me go. I felt that I had to forgive him. I had to check in on him. I had to keep in touch. And I do because I feel connected to him. I spent my entire 20s loving and hating this man. The year I turned 30 I realized that I had to stop. We had to stop. Like the closing of the beautifully written Jill Scott song "Cross My Mind" says: "the reality honestly is you were never good for me and I was never good for you. I just remember what we used to do."
With all that said, I say to my mother, my friends, and you lovely readers, don't worry about me. I am not trying to marry "my father." Even if I was, I don't see it as a problem. My father is a great man, but maybe he was not the right man for my mother. And, that is okay because from their relationship I was born. As for my Mr. Wrong For Me, I wish him nothing but the best as he grows and matures into the man I hope he can be. I love him and I will always love him. I learned a lot about myself and love (and other things) from my relationship with him. And, I am still growing, still learning, and still searching for my Mr. Right (For Me).