In high school, I met Reynaldo (a black boy…it doesn’t matter.). Reynaldo fell in love with me from the day he laid his eyes on me, either in a math class I was already failing or maybe on the cafeteria line as I appeared disheveled and flustered. My normal everyday look throughout high-school. Either way, in high-school through the three years that we knew each other, it was clear, not just to myself but our entire graduating class, that Reynaldo was deeply in love with me.
Deeply in love with me, while the only boy I had eyes for was a little light-skinned basketball player in my building; who spent his nights sitting in our building hallways smoking and doing hoodrat shit with his friends.
Anywho, point being. While Reynaldo was ready to sell his soul to have me, I could care less if we were a “thing” or not. I just wanted my hood-rat boyfriend and to be invited into the hallways on school nights, so I too could partake in hoodrat shit with his friends.
Building up our story.
Senior year of high-school, Reynaldo was in a serious relationship, or as serious as it can be between two hormonal teenagers. But! That did not end our weird, dysfunctional, “I like you, but I don’t want you right now, but I like the attention” relationship. Senior year was also the last year we would be in the same state for what would be the next 10 years.
So we made a promise.
We would reunite/check-in with each other when we turned 30, to see where the other person was in life.
Were we married? Did we have kids? Did we switch teams? Shit happens.
We would check-in when we both turned 30 years old, and see where the other person was in life. If we were both single and childless, we would get married. No questions.
Looking back now, what a silly promise.
But I held on to that promise, without realizing exactly how much I held on to it.
Through failed relationships and minor heartaches, I’ve always knew (subconsciously) that I had Reynaldo.
Subconsciously, I kept Reynaldo as my “Save-Away” Husband for a rainy day.
Now, before continuing, lets make it clear, Reynaldo was not sitting up over in Texas these last few years waiting on me, he has been in countless relationships as well as some serious ones.
Over the last 10 years we have been in different states we’ve made it a “tradition” of wishing the other person “Happy Birthday”. Each year, without fail.
This past week was Reynaldo’s Birthday. Following our yearly tradition, I sent a “Happy Birthday!!!!!!” text, and our typical “you’re getting old” and “remember the good ole days” conversations continued as it usually does. However, this year was a little different.
After a few of our typical messages were sent, Reynaldo sent me a screenshot of an ultra sound. My response:
emoji side eyes. “What is that?..lol”.
Reynaldo is going to be father. A parental figure. A zadddyyyy.
And at the moment I realized, he was no longer going to be my “Save-Away” Husband, and I was a little hurt.
It never occurred to me that Reynaldo would be the one to break our “promise”.
Reynaldo becoming a father meant more to me than just loosing my “Save-Away” Husband. It took away that idealistic, “rainbow and butterflies” future I created when I younger.
While I am coming to terms with the realities of life, its a new process. Reynaldo becoming a father just reminded me that the life I thought I would be living while in High-school is not quite playing out that way, and underneath it all, I am okay with that.
I am excited for Reynaldo, and I know he’s going to be an amazing father. And, someday an amazing Husband, either to another woman or maybe his “Save-Away” Wife.
***Names changed to protect the individual that may never actually read this post”***