I met this woman last summer, in the most intriguing way, not realizing I was about to have my heart ripped out my chest. Neither of us was the other's type. She liked the nightlife, was always in the streets and had a gold diggin' quality that eventually kept our paths from crossing.

She was used to talking to guys who were older, had bank, phat transportation, dressed preppy, a defined career, a clean vernacular, credit and a college degree. Only older than me by a year and some, I felt what she was looking for was young-minded. Her motivation I understand was her two children, but I know without a doubt I am the best thing for them even without the cash flow.

See, when I was around, the lil' ones would act right. They respected me. It has everything to do with what I failed to establish with their mother. Communication. Children do not learn anything from standing in corners, going to bed early and spankings. They get the wrong example when they are rewarded with candy or TV time. And whether we know it or not, they watch each and every little thing we do.

But this isn't about teaching; this is about learning.
As the relationship between us grew, I found myself asking more questions than receiving answers. The more time we spent together, the more I felt like she was the numero uno for me. We may have had our differences, but it's the valleys that make the peaks so high.

As we behaved more like a married couple, I shouldn't have had doubts about how she felt. She'd say she loved me but would be CIA-secretive about what she did outside our relationship. Giving a woman her respect for privacy, I trusted that her "doctor friend" was just a "doctor friend." The journalist in me continuously asked why she kept her friend such a mystery, but the man in me gave my trust to her. I gave my all to her.

As I look back, I bask in igonomy that I wasn't weary when she wouldn't even share his name. I never questioned the friend she was going out to eat with when she was "going out to eat with one of her friends." It never dawned on me how caller ID kept her from having to talk to him in my presence. The list is endless, but gets too embarrassing on my behalf.

I could teach them kids that relationships don't last without communication, but their mom and I just never developed that two-way communication element in our relationship. Everything I was teaching, I was deprived. I knew better when she turned me away at the door when her friend was visiting, but I didn't want to accept it.

See, I just told myself there must have been some kind of miscommunication somewhere along the way and overreacting wasn't going to help. I was right. Well, the miscommunication was my heart telling my brain it was going to be all right; and the only thing overreacting would have done was rushed this little heartache of mine.