Patiently Confident

Well, something big just happened.

I based this blog off of my having a spinal cord injury before beginning to write, about two and a half years ago. My spinal cord injury was the most substantial thing that had occurred to me within the first 20 years of my life, but now this. I can honestly say that for the vast majority of my post-injury life, I didn’t believe it would ever happen, but it just did. I got engaged! I dropped the question of all questions, and she said CHYEA! Now before you go passing judgment, hear me out, and if you still want to pass judgment, save it because I don’t care…

“Engage” is a strong word. I believe a lot of people have gotten so used to the term “engagement” as a noun and simply the time span leading up to the marriage of two people. These people mutually select each other and together, they decide on a date for the biggest day of their lives, their wedding day. The time span of their engagement could last anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of years, or longer, whatever. When their big day comes, hopefully the two of them will still share the same feelings for one another and follow through with their marriage. And if they decide to follow through with their marriage, there’s a 50% chance it will last. The common goal is to remain together, but when faced with adversity, it’s possible they won’t fight to make it work.

I believe this to be a very brief, yet very fair summarization of how society views the typical engagement and marriage. However, the picture I have painted in my head looks much differently from the one I believe depicted by society. The focal point of this scene I see lies on the strong root of this word engagement, engage. I know a lot of people who have never truly engaged themselves in anything, and I’m sure there have been many, many people who have lived their entire lives without doing so, a significant portion of whom died married men and women, and were at one point “engaged” themselves. Engagement is a noun, but engage is a verb, which is how I believe an engagement should be viewed.

Engagement— The process in which two people share while engaging themselves in each other’s lives’, and preparing themselves and also each other for the longest, yet happiest struggle of their lives, marriage. Once the two have seen enough of each other to be sure, this process will begin with a proposal, the commitment to each other and to this engagement process, which is the first and most crucial step towards beating the 50/50 odds of divorce. A marriage is the closest representation of two bodies becoming one flesh, which requires an excessive amount of time and effort to be done correctly.

One thing I know for sure is I’m not doing a gaht damn thing unless I’m doing it right. I’m either all in, or I’m not playin’. I think the ancient Romans said it best when they said, “Go big, or go home… straight to your mommy, then straight to bed.”

I’m about to go so big because I’ve never felt more sure, or ready for anything in my life.

I almost wrote something recently about Sophie and how happy I was, but never found the time to do so. No, we haven’t been together long, but we have spent an outrageous amount of time together since we started dating at the end of December. At least technically, I can say we started dating last year. We really never took more than a few days off from seeing each other, until leading up to this weekend. I’m actually typing this book ahead of time, on my Sophie-down-time. The last I saw her was Sunday, January 30th, and we took almost two weeks off, waiting until Friday, February 12th to reunite. I miss her a lot, but I’m proud of us. Not only am I seeing me her mental/emotional strength, but I’m awarded the time to prepare for giving her the best weekend she’s ever had. Since I’ve posted this, its either coming to an end, or ended already. I guess I’ll start looking for that next big thing to focus on and look forward to. That’s what keeps us going, right?

…I’ve still have a lot to get through,  but it only gets better. Hopefully my brilliant and intriguing writing is grabbing you by the neck, pulling you in, and making your heart race like you front row at Keeneland.

KINDA LIKE IT ALWAYS DO.

Which brings me to my first word for 2016, confidence. I wanted to tie a little truth into my writing that I was trying to do earlier, back when I wanted to spread the word about Sophie, but couldn’t find dat time. I wanted to talk about the endless confidence that I’ve found because of Sophie, and how I was going to really focus on it during the New Year. But with seeing her so much, and killing all things school related and life related, I haven’t even found the time to wipe my own ass, in all honesty.

Nah, I’m pretty sure my ass ain’t dirty.

As of lately, my life has been moving in the most positive direction. I’m on cloud 9. My life decisions are indefinitely leading me to become a better person. I’m becoming a man now. I feel this. I know this. Being with Sophie makes me feel like I’ll never spend another day down for the rest of my life. I know that’s awfully naïve of me, but I also know I’ve never felt this great, confident, or happy in my life. I mean, all I can think is…

“You just love struck, like a candy-ass.”

“You just smitten, like a little bitch.”

I believe, at least at this point in my life that patience and confidence are the two most important traits for me to focus on and improve upon. I firmly believe that no man will make it far if he doesn’t have an extreme amount of confidence. I attribute the majority of my recent depression to a weak level of confidence.

Any girl, any real girl, will tell you that a man’s confidence is much more attractive than his looks. One’s appearance is typically a good representation of how confident he is. Although the two tend to move hand in hand, this doesn’t have to be the case, and often isn’t. Think about those sukka looking dudes you’ve known, or have seen that landed gorgeous girls. I’m talking about the 5s walking around with the 9s. I’m talking about the 6s posted with the 10s. I’m sure it’s not all attributed to these sukka looking dudes having confidence, but the one thing y’already know these sukka looking dudes had was confidence. Being confident is how I know I’m gonna mass murder all aspects of life.

I see confidence as a stimulative trait. Guys that are confident in themselves seem to inherently have many other positive traits, as well. A man’s confidence will give him drive. He will be motivated and personable, which will lead him to form all kinds of relationships. And if you’d ask me, I’d say it’s obvious that human relationships are far superior to any and all things materialistic. I’m aware of very few successful people that don’t have these traits down to a tee, and for me, the best way to acquire these traits is to first and foremost become confident in myself. CHECK; I have (for the most part) always had confidence. I’ve just never had so much continuous confidence. The stunning creature whom they call Sophdawg, and whom I now call my fiancé, shatters my confidence barometer.

I love psychology. I like to think I’d be a star in the psyche world if I had credibility, but I’d rather not obtain the credibility, and keep thinking that I would be. The Thomas theorem is my favorite theorem on the psychology front:

“If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences.”

-William Isaac Thomas

The point is that all you have to do is conquer your psyche. If you have it in your head that you’re The Man, you’ll start reaping the benefits of The Man.

My second word for 2016 is patience. You’re probably chuckling your tits off right now because I wasn’t very patient with my proposal, but like I said, hear me out.

I really haven’t dated anyone seriously since my injury. Anytime I’d hear about a friend, or really anyone who’s close to my age get engaged, I’d immediately look down on them. Like…

“Duuude you’re young! Be on your own! Learn! Grow!”

I’d scream in my head and at them, occasionally. Sometimes I’d take a few seconds to awkwardly fish around in my wheelchair bag before, “FLIPP!!” Pocketknife swinging out with vigor while getting in their face, flesh on flesh, threatening what, and mainly who, meant most to them in this world. *Tru.

Playin’; not true.

I’m breaking all kinds of beliefs, though, lately because of Sophie. I’ve always felt that way, though (in quotations^^), but I guess it was really only a matter of time until I felt otherwise. I’ve been out of a relationship for about four-and-a-half years now, which for me, at least, was absolutely necessary. I needed that time on my own to figure out who the hell I was, and come to some of my own life conclusions. Everyone beats to his or her own drum, though, people are just different, and shit. The world needs different people. I’ve learned. I’ve grown. I’ve figured out who I am, and my solo phase has now passed. Solo-dolo Hunnaboy is no longer with us, but this isn’t a day for mourning. This is a day for rejoicing. I’m confident solo-dolo Hunnaboy would have wanted it that way.

I went on a handful of dates over this four-and-a-half year,“No-Chica,” period, but nothing ever went down. It just wasn’t going down in the DMs.

Honestly, though, I felt like none of the girls I would be physically attracted to would pay me a minute of attention. This wasn’t necessarily true, but I thought it was and it got me acting funny, or at least off my game when I’d be around most pretty girls (What up Thomas Theorem?). Most pretty girls totally suck, though. I did actually go on a couple of dates with pretty girls, but never felt comfortable counting them because they were such terrible people. I thought I was doing everything right.

I got was so frustrated.

As it would turn out, I was doing everything right, though. Matter-a-fact, I couldn’t have been doing them better; I wasn’t forcing relationships. I never went on more than a few dates with a girl because when you don’t know, you know.

I recently had a talk with one of my boys; he goes by “Young Connor B.,” and often times, simply “Young.” I shared a lot about Sophie with him, and referenced the time (not long ago) when I told him I didn’t want a pretty girl. I remember clearly saying…

“ I’m looking for a busted-ass girl, Young.”

I had it in my head that the kind of girl I was looking for wasn’t out there (bighearted, intelligent, and beautiful). I became weak. I misplaced my faith, and I lost patience. I knew that if I dropped one of these key traits, I’d have better luck. I thought to myself about it…

“Well, you’re the kind of person who genuinely cares about others. Not to mention, you’re in a gaht damn wheelchair now. She has to be able to see and respect your genuinity.”

 – “Okay, she gotta have a big heart.”

“You’ve been on dates with stupid people, and each time, you’ve had to get a handle on your own suicidal temptations, and manage your very own psychopathic thoughts. Watch your step here because once you break, you might not be comin’ back.”

— “Okay, she gotta be intelligent.”

“Hm, you’ve never been attracted to someone that wasn’t beautiful, but at the same time, you’ve gotten so used to the beauty in a girl that it no longer did much for you. Physical qualities are sure nice, but I guess their reach is awfully limited.”

–”Okay, you can do without :,(.”

I tried, and I tried. I quit, and I tried again. I couldn’t do it.

“You just have expensive taste in women :,(. You need a babe :,(. You need a 10 :,(.” 

I cried so hard.

I remembered the Ancient Romans, I was gonna go big. If I didn’t find the girl for me, the girl with all the qualities that I wanted, I’d keep flying solo. I prepped myself because most times I didn’t think I had a chance. I mean how many bighearted, intelligent, AND beautiful girls are there in the world? Like 6?

My frustration got heavy, and my mental would run its mouth in my head (A.k.a. I’d think)…

“You just aren’t normal. You’ve never felt like the typical dude. You’re just different (like it was a bad thing).”

Then my emotional would run, spreading insecurities…
“Girls want big dudes, and you’re just not a big structured dude. Your genetics aren’t capable of getting you what you want. Everyone wants an awesome, gorgeous girl, not just you. You’re paralyzed. You’re in a  wheelchair. Seriously, who’s on the lookout for that? There are so many more attractive people out there, and they can walk. Their legs work. You have to settle for less.”

These are actually fantastic examples of thoughts that used to run through my head. They came mainly during my depression phase, but even out of my depression phase on down days. It was exhausting, and when they came, I couldn’t live in the moment and focus on my tasks at hand.

My recent depression was primarily due to my paralysis. For the majority of the time since my accident, post-injury Hunter has, if anything, been much better off than pre-injury Hunter. It felt like the third year post-injury was when reality had finally decided to break me. That’s not to say I’m blaming it all on the wheelchair, though. Everyone has bullshit in their lives. Everyone deals with insecurities, whatever they may be. Everyone wants to find love. Everyone worries about being alone.

Towards the beginning of January, I shared a long conversation with Kelly, Sophie’s gorgeous and freaking awesome mom. Kelly briefly described her daughter’s personality to me. Her description consisted of little breadth, but very fair depth. Kelly chose to share with me the size of her daughter’s heart and how it was incomparable to anyone else she had ever known. “Sophie genuinely cares for everyone, whether she knows anything about them, or not,” Kelly told me. She went into more depth, but she didn’t expand much on the breadth because it simply wasn’t necessary; her heart said it all.

I had already seen this, but it became more real when I heard it verbalized, especially by her mother. The strong attraction, the connection, started to make all the sense in the world to me, and for the first time, I knew I could trust my feelings. When two hearts collide, the rest begins to fall in place, rapidly.

The only other girl I’ve ever loved also had a huge heart, we shared four years of our lives together, however, our personalities never quite matched. I’ve honestly never met anyone, male or female, whose overall personality matched mine so closely, as does Sophie’s. For two people’s personalities/humor to match so well, I think intelligence has to be pretty on point, as well. And if matching personalities doesn’t say enough about her intelligence, I think her graduating high school with a GPA >4.0 and having full intentions of attending grad school as a speech pathologist does.

I guess I’d understand if you still weren’t convinced I found true love. I mean, I did say I needed a 10, but I’m so in love with the person Sophie is, that she doesn’t need to be a 10.

Only thing is…

Sophie=>>10

She’s so much more than your average looking girl! I’ve never been so attracted to another human being. For the first time in my life, I no longer desire other women. I mean, I recognize beauty, but it’s no longer followed by a sexual urge. Sophie’s like a Lamborghini, really, only she’s better because she can communicate and share experiences. She’s like an Interactive Murcielago, the only one of its kind, and I’ve got the keys.

There’s a time to be patient, and a time not to be because you could die tomorrow. You could die tonight, and not even see tomorrow. Never WASTE time. Be patient until you know, but when you know, you’ll know, and you need to pull the trigger. You need’a eat.

After giving my brother a whole lot of shit for rushing his engagement and promising myself I would never follow in his footsteps, here I am. “When you know, you know,” is a common saying for a reason, one that I never used to understand. It’s what my brother would tell me when I expressed disbelief, or disagreement. It makes sense to me now, though, that you need to feel it in order to understand it (which is NOT to sound condescending towards people that date for longer periods before making the plunge, after all, everyone is different, and NO relationship is the same). I’m going against my promise because I can’t go against my feelings, not this time. Sometimes, executive decisions need’a be had.

I hope you’ve gained something out of this monster. Please don’t think that I think I know better. Many things, I am, but ignorant is not one of them. I wanted to share my big news, and the rest has simply been heavy on my heart. After the severe amount of stage three carpal tunnel all up in my wrists from grinding so hard typing this, I think I’m finally pleased with the finished product.

I never have much of a plan, and certainly no outline before writing. It seems like it’s everyday that I type a number of notes on my iPhone containing a random thought, or idea. Every once in awhile, I’ll find myself searching for one of these notes and adding more to it. It’s when this urge to write more on a topic starts to feel too big for any note on an iPhone that I tend to form a new blog post. I like to think this “push” to write more and more on a topic is from a Godly figure. I like to think it’s this figure sukka-shoving me in the chest, and my own uncertainties and concerns about whether or not to go for it is really just my feet treading below me trying to regain support.

If that makes sense

..just be patiently confident.

1 thought on “Patiently Confident

  1. Uncle Kraig

    Congratulations Hunter!!…..nicely said from your heart and I couldn’t agree more…you are indeed growing into a man right before our eyes. Thanks for sharing with us along your journey.

    Like

    Reply

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