​I ignored this phrase.
 
When I got into my relationship, and showed happiness, people would say “Oh you in your ‘Soft Girl Era.’” I didn’t really respond because it was usually in response to what my man does for me. I would think to myself, “But nobody treats me better than I treat me. I been in my Soft Girl Era. I won’t credit him for it.”
 
Today was different though.
 
I’ve always been a semi-tomboy. When I was a teenager, I wore a lot of sweatpants, and sometimes boxers. I loved sneakers. Nike Air Max and Nike Cortez were my thing. I wore other sneakers, but Air Max and Cortez is kinda where I lived. I got into a relationship with some-of-y’all-know-who, and that got shut down. First of all, I had a baby so sneaker shopping just didn’t go the way it used to. Second, what I did get, was surely, feminine. Last, I was literally told “Get rid of the boxers, baggy jeans, and sweat pants. I don’t wanna feel like I’m walking down the street with a twelve year old boy.”
 
So that’s what I did.
 
I wore pink Nike Dunks, low-rise boot cut jeans, with crop tops, and peek-a-boo thongs. *Sigh.* It wasn’t all his fault. Low-rise jeans with your thong showing was the trend at the time. I was also thirty pounds underweight, so oversized clothes would’ve swallowed me anyway. He was the catalyst though.
 
Today, me, the new man, and the bonus kid went to the mall—mostly for her to have a good time. I wasn’t thinking about anything for myself. On the way out of the mall though, he said “Get whatever it is you want or need.”
 
I just looked at him. I didn’t know what he was talking about, where that came from, or where it was leading. “What do you mean?” I asked.
 
“If you need or want something on this floor, get it now,” he said.
 
I pursed my lips. “I thought we were getting something to eat. Like are we going to the food court?”
 
He rolled his eyes. “I just mean anything that you want or need now.”
 
I was still stuck—mostly because I acted like a crab on the way to the mall. So I was thinking, Why would this man buy me anything right now?
 
We had another interesting exchange before entering a store, one I won’t elaborate on because it’ll take this post into a completely different direction about men and their inability to empathize with perimenopause.

And still one more detour...

My daughter has been insisting that I buy Mom-jeans and straight legs. She wears boot cut all the time and I’m like “been there, done that.” But she’s like, “Mom nobody wears skinny jeans as much as you do. You gotta try something else.” So I’ve been eyeing looser jeans and remembering the younger me who loved baggy jeans and oversized t-shirts. In the last few years, sweatsuits, and oversized t-shirts over leggings have become my off-work uniform. I’ve also been back on my sneaker kick, making sure I have a t-shirt, hoodie, or sweatsuit to match every pair.
 
Today, I picked up a pair of Mom-jeans, and three oversized t-shirts. He got them for me. When I got home, I tried on the jeans. I was happy and comfortable, and I felt cute. Comfortable-cute has become my m.o. for every item of clothing I buy. I showed him and he nodded his head with approval—not that I needed it. But you like to think your person thinks you look cute too.
 
I went upstairs to our bedroom after showing him the jeans and spread my t-shirts on the bed. Then the words came to me “Soft girl era.”
 
This is it, I said to myself. Today I feel like I am in my Soft girl era.
 
Why?
 
Not because he bought me stuff. He buys me stuff all the time. This man will get pissed off about something at work, leave the office to soothe himself with retail therapy, and buy me something. So it wasn’t that.
 
He bought me things I liked. Things that are not necessarily feminine. Things that make me and only me happy. There weren’t any stipulations. He knows that sneakers, oversized t-shirts, and sweatpants are my thing. Not once has he said to me, “You look like a boy,” when it came to my tomboy clothes. Do I think he likes them? Eh… In his fantasies he would probably have me wear maxi dresses 24/7, because he has this affinity for "maxi dress wedgies." However he likes when I smile more than anything and all it takes is some t-shirts to match her lil sneakers to make her giddy? Shit, why not?
 
I think a Soft Girl Era is different for everyone. For me, this is it. There aren’t stipulations on the clothes I choose. When we moved in together he didn’t raid my closet and start tossing out what he felt wasn’t feminine enough. My Soft Girl Era is filling my closet with my comfortable clothes--not teacher attire, not sundresses, not booty shorts, not the things that supposedly make you more feminine. I get to show off and feel cute in my cozy clothes, and the atmosphere between us is filled with quiet, cozy content.

I have the wildest dreams. I always have. My friends and I think it’s the reason I write fiction so well—because my imagination goes completely left all on its own without prompting. Sometimes I dream that I’m back in high school and it’s hilarious. I’ll be walking around (Harry S. Truman of The Bronx) frustrated because I don’t remember what classes I have. I try to ease into a class, into the back and go unnoticed. The premise is usually that I took some kind of hiatus. I don’t know why. It’s not like I dropped out of school. I graduated on time and everything.
 
I also dream about my childhood home a lot. I once read that dreaming about places in your past has to do with some part of you that hasn’t grown up. I just turned 42, I’m in my Jackie Robinson year, what part of me hasn’t grown? Anyway, last night I dreamt my family was packing up to move out of my childhood home. We were spending a lot of time in the basement, making sure it was up to par for its new inhabitants. I was also hella-worried about getting married, because apparently I needed to sign my marriage license.
 
Yeah, let’s back up a little…

First of all, I moved out of my childhood home when I was twenty years old. It would take another three years for my grandmother to sell the place. Now maybe the fact that I was slowly eased out that makes it seem like my subconscious is holding onto something. I had my daughter at nineteen, and by the time she was a year old I was spending most of my time at her father’s house. Whenever I would come home, more and more of my little sister’s belongings would be in my room. Finally one day I came to find my stuff packed in a few boxes and my mother told me I was welcome to come back and get my dresser. So I called my uncle (Rastafarian with a van, because they all have a van) to come pick up the dresser for me and take it to my daughter’s father’s house where I resided for the next four years. On the way, my uncle told me he was disappointed that I had a child so young and that I was going to live with my daughter’s father permanently, but he was at least glad that I had a high school diploma and was in college. I was kind of a jewel to my uncle, so to hear that I did something that disappointed him stuck with me.
 
Fast forward though…

​Last night’s dream was not only bugged out, but it seemed to drag on longer than a normal dream. We kept making trips between my old basement and the neighbor’s basement. My siblings and I grew up close to our neighbors and homes were almost identical except for a few minor details. In the dream I kept comparing the basements and at some point I realized my neighbors had passed away some time ago, and I wondered why it was my family’s responsibility to do whatever it was we were doing in their basement, when they had mad kids. Dreams are something else, aren’t they?
 
On to this marriage license…

​A few things—if you know me personally, you know I am skeptical about marriage. I’m a Gemini, have to be able to make decisions for myself regardless of what the next person says or thinks. I’ve been in a relationship for three years now, and while it might look like we just be vibing on the outside, I’ve probably made a conscious decision that morning to listen, put myself in his shoes, and compromise. On top of being an Gemini, I’ve been single and independent since I left my daughter’s father in 2007. You do the math, and if you know me personally, you’re welcome to subtract the fuck-boys along the way. None of them added value to my life or were about me the way this man is now. (I’m the writer, this my story.) I said all that to say, listening, making an effort to comprehend other viewpoints, and compromising don’t come easy to me. Being single and a mother (not a single mother, co-parent was/is hella-active) just makes you in charge of everything, and I did that for thirteen years. While I love my man down, signing a marriage license is terrifying, because what? He gets to be in charge too? What was even crazier in the dream was that I couldn’t remember my man’s name. It was absolutely insane. I kept saying, “Wait, who am I marrying?” And my family kept getting mad like, “Bitch, your fiancée! Sign the got damn paper so we can move on.” At one point I went down a list of male names in my head, and when I finally remember my man’s name, I was overwhelmed with this deep feeling of love I have for him, that if I were awake, probably would’ve caused me to cry uncontrollably. In the dream though I said, “Oh yes! That’s him! Oh my God, I love him so much! He’s like my best friend, he’s one of my favorite people, like in the top two! I would love to marry him, but do I have to sign the paper?”
 
Crazy.

Eventually we left my childhood home, and I was suddenly here at my current apartment. A bunch of high school friends were down at my building’s pool, and I headed down to join them. I changed into a swimsuit, snapped my clip-on shades to my prescription glasses, grabbed a pool towel and wandered around the pool looking for my old classmates. It was crowded. Finally I found them at the 5 feet end, where I usually don’t venture because I’m only 5’2, but I figured I could brave it for a little while. There was a white lesbian couple right next to my group and instead of me saying “excuse me,” to get by them, I latched on to the bigger one’s neck saying “You won’t mind if I use you to get over here,” and swung myself towards my friends. Why is that an important detail? Because I would nevaaaa! I think the lady in my dream was my neighbor. The fact that it’s unclear to me makes her a stranger and I do not touch strangers! So finally, I’m sitting with my friends, fighting for my life to keep my head above water and I realize the clip on is making everything too damned dark. I take it off and for what? Because it’s still just as dark. It’s then that I realize I attached the clip on the a pair of cat-eye sunglasses. Weird af.
 
I think I woke up after that.