I always wanted this car. Audi TT Roadster convertible. When I bought it, I felt like a superhero. I felt elation, joy, pride and excitement. I felt sexy and powerful. It felt much like falling in love. It's perfect until the cracks begin to show. I'm no mechanic. I can barely check the oil. But I did pay a mechanic before buying this convertible. He lied. The truth is I bought a lemon. The truth is I lost $12,000 cash because I was seduced by the idea of a sexy convertible.
It didn’t start. Often. In the rare moments when it did function, I would blast the song " The hills" by the weeknd. I lived in a fancy neighborhood in Houston. I looked like I belonged there. I enjoyed the little stretches of time when it did work. Sometimes it could fly.
This car was much like lovers I’ve had. they were beautiful, on the outside. We had fun for small, magnificent windows of time.
But like the car: eventually enough was enough. I sold it for almost nothing. I cried as I signed the paperwork realizing what a terrible investment I had made. I sold it just as hastily as buying it -or jumping into love affairs with flashy dangerous men. Perhaps if I had patience for anything besides children, I could have sold it for more and lost a little less money.
But I can’t fight my nature. I’m an all-in or all-out kind of girl. And when I'm done, I’m done. I wanted out of that beautiful broken car. The car that told me " Even when your dreams come true, they suck." My ex was the most glaring example of a car that gets you nowhere. " Mr. Big" is what I called him for those of you familiar with the sex in city character. Mr. Big proposed to me, then gave my ring to another woman. “Mr.Big” is a bad, bad man.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved that man. My god, did I love that man. I was a cocktail waitress in New Orleans when I met him. I was bored and he showed me a new world. The world of mixed martial arts. I was excited by him and the MMA fighting world. He owned a fighting gym and promoted huge fights. He used to fight! A former world champion taught me how to box. That was awesome. Mr. Big is treated like a celebrity in that town. He was kind of, the Don. I was sometimes-his girl. He is friends with the mafia but not involved. His family is affluent and powerful. I was excited by his larger-than-life ego and grandiose promises that he seldom kept. Our “love’’ was a masterfully created illusion. A fantasy. A lie. He is crazy about me-but I require too much effort. He needs easy girls that get drunk and stay quiet. That don’t ask questions when he disappears for a week…a month….a year. No matter how long he was gone I always opened the door. I meant what I said when I promised I would be his wife and that I would help raise his kids and we would have a baby. But, he didn’t mean it. I can no longer stay loyal to a liar.
Maybe we did drink champagne and make love in Mexico ……
Then what? Then I cried like when I sold the car for nothing.
The dangerous thing about that kind of man, is what I sold for nothing was myself. At the end of the day what was my R.O. I.? (My return on investment.) ( In the case of Mr. Big I invested nine years on that rollercoaster. )
My ROI with him was nothing. He's a lemon.
The reason I’m telling you this is- to live greatly- to dare greatly you have to take chances. But, know when to fold.
Brene Brown says- " The courage to be vulnerable isn't about winning or losing. It's about the courage to show up when you can't predict or control the outcome.''
I have tremendous courage, and I show up. For people, for art, and for love. I’m not sorry that I loved hard. Trying to tame my wild nature is much like ' breaking' a wild horse. But you don't break. You become gentle. The strength and spirit of the horse is still there. It is fear that makes them skittish. It is fear that makes us run. I have gotten a little too good at running when it pertains to men. To feel things so intensely and learn how to lean into gentleness, is my goal.
I owe it to myself to make better choices. In all arenas of life. And, so do you.
You see recently, I bought a new Honda CRV mini SUV. It's cute. But it's not sexy. What it is- is RELIABLE. I want that. I need that.
Does that mean I have to date a Honda? I don’t know man, maybe I'll start with a Rangerover. But I will not pick another lemon. I will take my time. I will ask God and my intuition- and this time-I’ll listen.
Charity R. Sills
