Multivariate calculus. It was the first time that it had dawned on me that I couldn’t just smart my way out of something. I had been an exemplary student, almost effortlessly up to that point…I could read the text and figure it out didn’t necessarily need the whole class thing. Then here I was in this class like, wait what? I had coasted up to this point and now I had to try, only to average results. It was frustrating; I’m smart, school is supposed to be easy for smart people, when in fact it is easier for smart people but if the proper work isn’t put in then you just as disadvantaged as everyone else.
This is a lesson I had to learn as far as my dating life is concerned as well. When on paper, I should be winning outchea but in reality I’m just as hopeless as everyone else. As much as it’s been written that “good black men” are at a premium, it would give credence to the idea that all you have to do is look good and act right and the world is your oyster, but its not that easy. Suddenly I’m an overwhelmed ugrad and sure I could take easier courses but what would I get out of it other than an ego boost of being Prince Charming to a commoner. I could stick it out with Multivariable Calculus but if I fail then all Ive done is wasted my time, effort and money. Of course, stay the course of Calculus (I just wanted the entendre here) because there’s something to be gained even in failure…or in real life juuuust passing (Pass/Fail for the win). Except in real life there’s a clear difference between taking a 101 course and a 243 even if they both count the same. So to put this metaphor to bed, I want fulfillment as much as I want a fulfilled requirement. But at what cost?
Sometimes the easier way isn’t as easy as you think either. The same way LeBron just assumed he would win 6 titles in Miami. Then assumed he could just go back and win at least one in Cleveland. Now he’s realizing he might not win another one ever again. Life comes at you fast. You reach out to your own maybes and your badge doesn’t work anymore. You were so busy looking past them by time you realized that maybe there was something there its far too late. And so you’re left wondering if this is ever going to pan out for you? (I’m aware that it sounds insane to even ask that out loud, 1000 days away from age 30). It can all be chalked up to frustration, a bad few months, Mercury in Retro Greys…but in the moment it really feels like, so…hey stranger? How much storage does Tinder require? You rolling to Candibar Thursday?
So what happens now? Do I turn into one of those whiny thought catalog bloggers and blame it on the generation and the internet? (Hell this post kinda makes me feel like a whiny thought catalog blogger) Perhaps I’ll go hotep and start blaming the white man and the gay agneda for turning Queens against their King. Maybe I can meet a girl, pine for her for a decade wait until she marries and divorces my best friend, I get married she dies and then I shoot my shot (yeah, its still fuck you, HIMYM)…or I can just live my life and stop worrying about if and when I’ll meet someone because it’s like 75% luck. Dating is frustratingly and delightfully random like that. All I can do is travel, eat good and laugh a lot. Or join Soulswipe because I find that name hilarious.