My Worst Nightmare Would be Waking Up as You.

When I visit the Tongan canoe at PCC we always have scintillating little chats. I was innocently walking by their canoe and one of the men calls out to me and he says

“Hey Cinderella!”

“Why you say Cinderella? I’m not waiting on no man to come save me!”

“Oh that’s right, you’re Beauty and the Beast! Question is which one are you?”

“Excuse me I am the beast.”

“That’s right, you are. Just need a beauty to come tame you and give you some love.”

And the guy who said that hugs himself and twerks his eyebrow at me and Apple who is standing next to him starts laughing and gives me that smile and I growl at him and walk away.

Did I ever say I wanted taming? No. No I didn’t. Scuse you, jumping to conclusions like that. Maybe I don’t need taming, maybe I’m effing fabulous and no improvement is needed thank you very much.

I love watching those men who think they can tame me line up and try their tricks because I know who is Queen. Their confidence in their abilities to tame the beast, is really cute. Almost makes me want to blow them a pity kiss and buy them balloons. Almost.

I know I’ve talked about Polynesian men a billion times before and probably will talk about them up until I marry a sexy Brazilian telenovela star- but yeah, until then, let’s talk about them some more! My favorite! Today we servin’ up some

Hot. Chocolate. Heavy on da sugah. ❤ ❤

Here is part of the reason why I think the poly boys get to my heart. I could talk to you all day about cultural differences in values and way of life but I think one of the deep truths about Polynesians is that they love. There’s plenty of stuff they don’t talk about and even though they talk rough they are really tender inside (at least when I blink my big brown eyes at them and hold out a plate of food). Maybe it’s something about living in such a small island with your neighbors and knowing everyone and their cousin but they have a close relationship with the people around them.  They are close to people, not objects. Family is everything.

Western society my iphone and I have a great abusive relationship. He gives me videos of cats and in return I die of loneliness with a smile on my face. #baegoals.

In high school I mostly knew Hispanic, black, and white boys. And the extent of most of my relationships with them was “Hey you got a fine ass girl, can my niggah have your number?” (that’s a quote and yes they say that. Don’t hate on me for using that word. If they don’t like it, they shouldn’t use it. Dat’s my logic.)

Poly boys of course there are some like that. But I think the real issue is that the ones I know show their heart in their eyes. There’s plenty of pretending and saying hi not because you like someone but because you “have to” but their eyes will tell you anything that you need to know. And consistently, these are the boys I can read.

Do you remember that guy who “bumped” into me accidentally in the gym? Did you know his favorite movie is Magic Mike? And it suits him. And tell you the truth I got that sense about him from day 1. A couple of the Tongan guys actually, who think of me as meat.

Apple’s not like that. He is a genuine sweetie. So was Teddy Bear.

The thing that is so hard for me is that when I look at a person I see things. Strings just pull together and I can have one conversation with you and based on who knows what I can tell you really intimate details about your life or what your weaknesses and strengths are. I never know exactly what will come up but I can sense the complexity of feelings and I may not know why at first but I see things. I call it my spidey senses. Same senses that help me know who is in my house when I’m asleep and let me know who is within a 20 foot radius without listening or looking. I basically feel your spirit enter the room. Kind of like an aura? Sounds crazy but you know, being an amazing rugby player would seem pretty crazy too if there weren’t a lot of them.

I forget that other people can’t read me like that. I forget that most of my wounds are invisible. That I look “just fine”. I had that panic attack yesterday but before that I was shaking and wandering around with this glazed look in my eyes. And I was “off” but no one could tell. It’s one of the reasons treatment was so hard on me was that I’m way sensitive to mental illness in particular and when someone gets triggered my spidey sense goes on.

The poly boyz in my life are way more sensitive than they appear. They can’t put words to it, but they can tell when I’m off. For instance there’s this guy named MELCHESIDIC (I can’t spell that) and he knew me before I went to treatment and when I came back he looked at me once and this look came over his face. And I knew he saw something so later I asked him and he said “You are so much better than before.”

One. Look.

Just like when Teddy Bear came to class yesterday and he just said “Hey Queen.” and I saw his eyes and heard his voice…

After everything I put that boy through, he still feels that way. And he respected my space. I want to say sorry. I want to soothe where I hurt before because I don’t respect what he did before that got me so hurt and upset but I do respect that he did not give up on me or shove me away.

But the other thing about Poly Boyz. Don’t text them. Call them or go see them. Written word doesn’t mean much to them at all. They need to hear your voice and it’s not just because English is their second language, it’s because how you speak has mattered for thousands of years in the islands. They tell their whole history and every feeling with their word. In Samoan there is a saying

E pala le ma’a

A e le pala le upu.

Even stones decay, but words endure.

So you really need to pay attention to what they say and be careful how you speak back. Don’t use their third language to speak to their heart because no matter how hard they try at English or writing in English, their first language is the one in their heart.

Oh and another example of a Tongan canoe was my last visit to the village

“Oh they must think you’re delicious. I bet you’re really sweet.”

“Nah I’m spicy.”

“Oh, are you sure? I think you’re sweet.”

“Nope. Also didn’t you know, girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice?”

APPARENTLY IN TONGA NOONE TEACHES BOYS THAT LINE. And unfortunately, ladies, Tonga now knows. I’m so sorry.

Yes. I do have female friends.
2.
I think.
Maaybe.
Well for the sake of this story I definitely have 1.

And let me tell you having a girl friend is pretty sweet but it’s taking some serious adjustment. I mean if I’m being honest my boy K from back home was my best friend and I loved that guy so much, so what I’m looking for from these poly boys, is a connection that’s safe and stable that I can count on. Unfortunately they think I just want to smash. They wrong, but if you’ve ever seen Easy A, gossip has way too much power. I mean, in my case, I didn’t even know what was going on and then I get this text “Guess what they’re saying about you…”

And my world just rocks from under me because all I do is be myself and try to be kind. I’m kind of savage sometimes but usually that’s when you steal my Oreo. I wasn’t trying for haters at all and I’m surprised I even have any cause I’m kind of a fabulous person. I really don’t get it because I see that as a waste of time. Grudges, bad thoughts, they are unhealthy and I have PTSD and depression so I can tell you that thoughts have way too much power as it is so the more you feed that, the more you suffer later.

I don’t really get why they care. I’m doing my thang and I don’t see how that’s their business. I’m not kissing these boys they say I’m all over. I’m not spreading drama for the sake of attention, you ask me a question, I’m straight up going to answer it and I filter those answers even as it is. Maybe I’m too straight up but at least I don’t come at you sideways. That’s no way to live.

I really, really, really don’t get it. I don’t get why they have to talk about my butt behind my back. I don’t get why they talk to each other about that time I stayed up until 1 waiting for Apple because he promised he was coming. Or when they say that I go to PCC just to pick up men.

There’s no way in hell I would go anywhere on purpose- to pick up men. I don’t know if you noticed but I’m not sexually attracted to men because I hate sex. I hate sex. I hate kissing. Why would I even want these hos?

It’s pretty effed up.

I have seriously considered lying and telling people I like girls just so they’ll leave my romantic life alone. I want them to back off but since they come sideways by the time I hear about it it’s too big and it’s gone around to too many people and I sit here and I’m like “So whodunit?” And then I just roll my shoulders and walk away because I have 99 problems to worry about already.

And if I’m being honest, my other thought is that people knock down other people because they are insecure. They can’t do what I do.

Also my new habit is starting out my morning listening to Me, Too by Meghan Trainor because my life is a mess, but it’s my mess. It’s fabulous, it’s horrible, it’s full of drama, and it’s completely my life and I am Queen. I rule.

My worst nightmare would be waking up as you.

 

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