After being alone in the sandbox for some time, I was joined by a neighbourhood boy who not only liked the same games I liked, but also played with some flair and lots of enthusiasm.
We had a semi-regular play date. I looked forward to the games. We worked out a relationship that is best described as a hook-up.
Me and my boy from `round the way, we decided it would just be kept in the sandbox. Sure, we`d be friendly. And we wouldn`t really be trying to play with other partners. But the whole teif-head about “you`re-the-only-boy/girl-I-want-to-play-with-ever”-well, we agreed to skip that part.
It was, at first, extremely liberating. He`d come over, we`d play. We talked, too, exchanged thoughts and ideas on the world, politics and society. But mostly, we played.
Then the games began to ease up. The first time he came over “just to talk,” I more or less freaked out. I didn`t say anything but in my heart of hearts I wondered, “Is this the end of our beautiful playtime? Is this going to devolve into the bland and soggy terrain of `friendship?`” Because, let`s face it, I didn`t like the boy for his charm. In fact, it was just the opposite. It was his lack of charm that convinced me he could be excellent in the sandbox. A certain necessary roughness, if you understand what I`m saying. That`s not the kind of person I want to be friends with-my friends tend to be more “ejicated” and a little bourgie.
(So that outs me as an elitist.) This boy was not dumb but in a room full of people to talk to, he wouldn`t be my first choice. I guess that`s one of the reasons I agreed to a hook-up and not a dating relationship. I didn`t want him as a life-partner, just a playmate. And he knew it.
Whatever the reasons, the fun and games came to an end. Rather abruptly. One night he was in the sandbox; the next night he wasn`t. And he hasn`t been back since. I think he realised that, despite our original, civilised intentions, he wanted more than just fun and games. I think-and I could be wrong, very, very wrong-that he wanted to be more than just a plaything. And now, gentle reader, I am in the rare position of having a tabanca for someone I`m not in love with, not dating and really had no plans of being involved with over a long term.
So what happened?
Is it that I discovered that I can`t keep the apples and oranges separate?
Is it that, in trying to separate my sandbox from the rest of my “real” life, I was being self-deceptive?
Or is it that I have fallen prey to the age-old appeal of the unattainable?
In making his exit from my sandbox, did he make his entre into my heart?
Just because he disappeared, is he more appealing?
Ah, who the hell knows. Right now, I don`t much care, either. I am feenin` for him, and I`d settle for the friendship-that`s how bad it is. Oh, who am I kidding. I miss the games. I want him back in my sandbox, and I want him now. If a relationship is the price I have to pay, so be it. Bring on the violins.
tabanca, n. (ta-ban-kaa)
Trinidad & Tobago
1. A state of sadness or depression caused by the abscence (temporary or permanent) of a loved one
2. A state of sadness or depression caused by unreturned love
3. A state of fear or worry, caused by concern over the infedelity of an absent loved one