Introductions

Caroline

I have a car coming to take me to the airport in about an hour so I’ll be brief. I’m flying to Paris this afternoon for business. It sounds glamorous, but trust, it won’t be. I’ll spend the better part of the day in a freezing boardroom, trying to convince a group of obnoxious men to put millions into developing a new fragrance. I have my work cut out for me.

I am looking forward to kicking back with an incredible bottle of wine, or two.

I do have something that’s been on my mind though. I haven’t even shared this with Noni, but as soon as she reads this entry she’s going to blow up my phone, I’m sure. I received an e-mail from an old friend-okay a former lover, about a week ago. Let’s call him Lance for the sake of this blog. I met him while I was a transfer student at Oxford years ago. He was ten years my senior, an MBA student, and fine as can be. Picture smooth skin the color of red clay, tall, with brilliant hazel eyes. He was trini.. and Island men just do it for me.

We met at a mixer for Black students. He sat beside me. I noticed his fineness out of the corner of my eye. He said hello. I greeted him back-then cut to the chase. “Are you married?”

Weeks later we began our regular rendezvous. We’d have dinner, sip red wine, and make love until sunrise. Then he’d wake up before me, and pick up coffee and a croissant for breakfast. It was wonderful.

But I never got carried away. I didn’t mind so much enjoying him physically-hell, it is still the best sex I’ve ever experienced in my life. But I was reluctant to give him my heart. When I thought about marriage, he just couldn’t be the one. My parents would prefer he was West African… but that wasn’t even the biggie. He had baggage. And I was young.

When I returned to Elm City for my senior year, Lance wanted to keep going-long distance. Here was a fine, educated Black man who’d manage to escape marriage for 35 years of life and he was willing to commit to a young girl who was an entire ocean away. It’s funny how in romance when a woman pulls a man pushes, and vice versa. He even came to visit me a few times. I remember having sex in my cramped hot dorm room senior year. He didn’t seem to care. But eventually I let him go. I have to admit, in the back of my mind, I always felt, no, I knew, we weren’t finished. Perhaps I just needed time to see where Lance fit in my life.

Well time is ticking. He writes for a financial publication now and he’s moving to the city. That’s what the email said. Just when things were going smoothly, someone has to rock the boat. I love my job, and my freedom. I’m single, and if I had my choice I’d prefer to be booed up, but I don’t waste time on people who aren’t worth it. At my age, a woman has to be selective. I’m seeing some artist on the side. He’s white, and for lack of a better term, very artsy, and still in awe of my chocolate limbs! Wait, I actually need to not be a mess on here. But seriously, I like being in control. And I’m worried that when Lance comes along all of that will change.

-Caroline