LaToya S smith

This blog was born because I had the pleasure of meeting my friend Darnell for lunch today. I was attempting to park, and while I clumsily scraped my rims against the curb, there was a solemn looking man-a security guard there watching me. I got out of the car, looking across the street to see if my friend was there. He was. I saw him standing in a doorway among the sea of people on Sunset Blvd. I mentally acknowledged him and went to get Levi’s stroller out of the trunk. I methodically unfolded the stroller and set it down on the sidewalk. My eyes multiplied with the security guard’s, and he started talking.

“Hey, you think if a lady breaks up with a guy after three years there is a chance she will come back?”

Most of the time when strangers approach me, they offer some kind of salutation. Not today. This is what made it so special. As if the question was totally normal,

I said,“Um, it’s a possibility. I have to know the backstory. Was she already telling you the areas you were falling short in?”

I had to ask, because men are notorious for thinking Plymouth Rock landed on them.

“No, it was totally out of nowhere. I’ve been with her three years. She was dating another guy at first, then we got together. Now, she is saying she doesn’t want to be with me. She has gone back to the other guy. She wants to give them a chance. I am hurting because I got close to her boy. I was helping her with him.”

By this time, I started to understand the guy was really in pain. His mouth began to twitch and his eyes welled up with tears. I don’t know how I didn’t start crying. It was probably because I couldn’t believe he was actually confiding in me. I thought for a few seconds, then replied. I wanted to be honest, yet considerate of the fact he was hurting. Men can be so tender. I looked at him and said,

“Leave her alone. She may just need some time, and you know what-since she left you for another guy, there is a chance this woman just isn’t the one.”

He let out a “Hmph” of disbelief, then said, “But after three years?” I thought, three years isn’t that long. I have always been in long-term relationships. Over time, I have learned no amount of years is long enough to completely know someone, or to allow something to go on that shouldn’t just because there is history there. If it isn’t working, it isn’t working. Obviously, this woman felt it wasn’t working. I looked across the street. Darnell was searching for us. I called out to him knowing my little voice wouldn’t carry all the way across the street. My new friend turned to see who I was trying to communicate with. I thought he would help me yell, but his eyes trailed over and came right back to mine.

“I am hurting so bad and all I can do is stand here for the next 12 hours, holding back my tears.”

At this point, I wanted to melt through the concrete. His eyes were wet and drops of sadness started to roll down his face. He pulled out a napkin to dab his cheeks. He knew this meltdown was coming. With Levi in one hand and empathy in the other, I hugged this man I had never seen. He could have been a robber, a thief, a killer-anything (My partner makes me watch the ID channel sometimes and my imagination is already overactive.)-but in that moment, he was my brother, and I felt for him. He thanked me and I told him not to worry. “It’s going to be okay.” I don’t know if I lied or not when I said that. I do know that I’ve been thinking of him all day long. I hope he has friends that can help him get through this loss. I hope he has a relaxing place to go after work. I hope he finds a woman who understands his brand of love.