I was waiting for my father to pick me up for weekly visitation. It was a cold and rainy Saturday afternoon. There I was alone, because my brother was ill and couldn't come. I stood at that stoop. He was to arrive at 3pm. I looked at my watch, and with butterflies of excitement in my tummy, I waited with bated breath. Each time I was always nervous, partly out of joy, partly out of fear, but no matter what, I always hoped he'd come. It was my birthday after all...he HAS to come. I recalled other weekends he'd come over, and I'd see his HUGE Cadillac pull up from around the corner. Papi would get out, all dressed up, with the gold jewelry flashing the message: "I AM somebody!" He would get out of the car, and I'd kiss him nervously on the cheek,hoping he'd compliment me...but he didn't. Didn't matter, it was my dad, and I wanted to spend time with Papi, Daddy, Dad...the man who was to be my hero and take care of his little girl. I was nine years old.
It was my birthday...it was 3:00pm...I mean 3:30...nope, 4:00pm...I refused to budge. What if while I went back upstairs and he came by and thought I'd left? That would be horrible. It was a time when my father was forbidden to call my house (long story, will share on another future blog). It was a time when there were no cell phones. So I was frozen there...and I was very wet...It was 6pm when I gave up. I was crying but no one could tell because the rain had camouflaged the tears for me. Happy Birthday to me. I told my mom he'd taken me out, and made me a birthday cake and sang happy birthday to me. It was the first time in a long time...it had happened before, but this was my birthday. My father stood me up.
Fast forward to my early 20's. I had a date with Vadim...a fantastic looking Russian man who had pursued me for quite some time. I'd admired him from afar and when he asked me out, I was thrilled. We'd spoken on the phone for a whole week every single day. Then the day of the date arrived, and he asked me, "Are you ready for a great evening? I can't wait to see you...FINALLY." The time had come. He called, he said he was outside. I couldn't get downstairs fast enough. There I was all dressed up. But he wasn't there. Never showed up. Two days later, I found out he'd made a bet with his friend that he could get me to go out with him and he'd stand me up. Little did I know his friend and him were down the street having a good laugh.
Fast forward to my early 30's. One of my exes I'd dated for a year or so. It was Valentine's Day - and my ex, will call him, Judas..lol. My ex planned to pick me up at 7pm. I bought a dress - a gift for him and his daughter from his previous marriage. I did my nails, hair, etc. 7pm came, but no word from him. Something in my gut said something wasn't right...so I drove an hour and a half to his home, where his mother answered the door. "Oh, Judy! What are you doing here? Judas said he was with you!" Huh? I called him, no lie, 17 times. And on the 17 try, Judas picked up.
"What!" he screamed!
"Judas, where the hell are you? You said you''d come get me at 7! What is going on?"
"Judy, I told you once and I'll tell you again...I've been telling you for three months now, I'm in love with Jahaida and you won't leave me alone."
I was stood up again, and I was betrayed beyond my wildest dreams. I literally thought of driving my car into a wall that night...so many times...I fantasized it. I wanted to just die! My mother saved my life that day by staying on the phone with me while I drove two and a half hours to her house. Mom made me coffee and held me while I cried in her arms...until I fell asleep.
Fast forward to today. I'd met a man in the city...older man 37...I say older because lately it's the 20 somethings that have been asking me out, lol. We'll call him.. Jay. We've chatted intermittently for almost a month now, nothing really serious, but I was happy when he called me two days ago asking me out for drinks. He's handsome, employed, and very funny...and from the South, which I thought was intriguing in a strange way. Jay and I agreed to meet at a bar...he texted me the address. It was agreed...we'd meet at 8pm. He called me at 7:30 to ask if I was on my way..and he reconfirmed. Good.
I took a shower, did the hair, makeup, perfume etc...you know how we do it, ladies. I drove into the city, and couldn't find the place. Hm, strange. I called him. "Jay, I'm on West 4th, but I can't find the bar. Please call me." I sent a text just in case. Then I called a friend...
"Hi, my friend! (That's what my friends and me call each other, lol) Do you know where such and such a place is?"
He looked it up for me on the internet...used search engines...
"Nothing, my friend...I don't know."
So I drove around and around...I waited until 8:30.
I was stood up AGAIN! UGH! DAMN! F...no, I won't go there. So there I was 2 blocks away from the tunnel when Jay called me. I pull over.
"Hello." (with a pissed off-girl-from-the-Bronx-Puerto-Rican-Rosie-Perez-Attitude)
"Hey, Judy."
"Yea, where are you? The place wasn't even listed."
"I had a table for us...that damned AT&T."
"Um, did you not think of calling me? Didn;'t you see my text or hear my message?"
"Well I just got your text now. I was waiting, but I'm at the subway now on my way home...maybe we can try to do this tomorrow"
NO! I don't think so! Helloooooooo!!!! A gentleman would be worried when his date didn't show up on time. A gentleman would call to check up on me and ask if I was okay. A gentleman would make an effort to FIX IT!!! and offer to see me right then and there..especially if he's from the South. We hear so much about Southern Hospitality, blah, blah, blah...he must be from the South Side of YOU SUCK!!!!
Whatever.
Gentlemen, I beseech you...PLEASE, consider that when you stand a woman up, it is not only disrespectful, but you have no idea what her past is like. For me, being stood up is TRAUMATIZING..I feel like that 9 year old left waiting in the rain again.
I think I shall be like Queen Elizabeth. She was so tired of being let down by love...tired of betrayal, tired of being denied true love, that she vowed she would never marry. She is often remembered quoting that she is married to her country. Perhaps I will resign to be only married to my career...that's that. Done. My middle name, by the way is Elizabeth. Next time some jerk stands me up, this queen shall use the famous quote:
"Off with his head!" Y ya!!!
