On Cuffing Season…
Don’t wear your cuffs too tight, you might actually think this is real life.
Let’s face it, we’ve all been there. This time of year, last year or the year before, you were unknowingly or knowingly entering into cuffing season drafts. You were maybe even first round draft. Maybe you were wined and dined. Maybe you just chilled and dreamed that things were going somewhere because your coach was that good. Maybe you were fourth strain and the coach had you playing the field as though you were an official starter. Any way you choose to slice the reality of the situation, cuffing leaves an after taste, burns like Listerine mouth wash. Sure, cuffing season isn’t all bad, but if you’re the one saying that, chances are you’re the one doing the cuffing.
I feel like our culture only places importance or relevance on things if it gains popularity. Maybe cuffing used to be disguised as asking out to a dance, going out to social parties in the fall or watching movies together as frequently as possible. I just don't understand how our culture transformed from asking someone out for the purposes intended verses building up a temporary facade for our selfish gain. It’s the ride of the season that has “cuffers” and willing seekers of being cuffed so excited for the possibilities. It’s the anticipation of “what ifs” and “dream selling” that excites the poor souls being drafted or willingly falling into a game that the two people involved shouldn’t be playing, at least in my opinion, if it has no intention on building something tangible.
Games. How unfortunate that we look forward to a time of year to play games with the very component of our beings? We play the game with made up feelings, making the cuffers and cuff draft picks feel special, different and then we make them feel appreciated until… The end of the season rolls around and you realize that you’ve stayed in your role a little too long, played your part a little too well and wondering what exactly the purpose of real life is. The trees are gaining their color again and your whimsical heart just met the unhappy ending of your pink draft season slip.
Let’s be clear, before you call this, the “Aww, who hurt you?” post, let’s not pretend that you haven’t been the cuffed or the one doing the cuffing. Before one can place cuffs, admit that you were dogged and served up that real life hurt from being cuffed. You don’t have to admit it publicly, but let’s be honest with ourselves and admit that it happened, you got done your issue, and now you’re giving it to others. Maybe you naturally fell into the role because you’ve been a player your whole life, right; it’s something you’re naturally good at? Maybe you were Bambi caught up. Maybe you thought you had something to prove and entered the draft because you were a bad ass. Who knows? Everyone has their own agenda and frame of reference, and that is just where we all are in life.
Why is it that we live in a generation where a beautiful lie gains your respect? Is it because you refuse to accept the very part of ourselves that said, “Don’t be stupid,” but we were just too eager to see what awaited us behind the door? If lies are so beautiful and comfortable that it helps us stay warm and cozy while being wrapped up in the season, I want you to picture how ugly and cold the truth is of our hideous actions. How I see it, we pray on the things that remind us of ourselves that we were too ignorant to change. The person doing the cuffing recognizes something of themselves in their cuff pick. They take on that unique spark to maybe energize that cold, dark place that love used to live. They feed off of that energy and develop plays to attain it. Not only do they make the plans to get that spark, but they find themselves (not very often) feeling like you bring something special to their lives. The truth is, the cuffer (person seeking out those to be cuffed, the coach per se) is unable to give or give you anything of importance because they are empty. Just like their promises to treat you in ways you thought were just for you, some other chick or guy is getting the same if not more on their playground.
Games. Seriously, people don’t get enough of the phone, computer, gaming systems and board games. The next thing is to play with the most valuable piece of our very being, and that is the heart. The thing about recognizing everything as it really exists is the ability to see through people and their methods once you have experienced the trenches. I am a misfit and I can honestly say I have never cuffed anyone, but you can either relate or turn on the light bulb as to what it is like to have a heart broken because you were possibly lost in a cuffing affair. I can see the ugly truth in this season to know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and my beauty lies in loving me more than building up a fantastic lie about someone who can only care for my heart (excuse me, the better term these days is attention or thirst an emotions) 3-6 months at a time. Stay woke friends. I hope everyone uses their heart, eh thirst, scars and truths to build each other up and not play with each other’s precious time and feelings. Life is as real as the blood flowing through your veins. If you love someone, say it. If you simply want to screw them, and they agree, do that. But don’t be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Yes, it does get cold, it feels a bit lonelier in the winter, but I can cuddle up with a clear conscious, pure heart and unyielding love for myself and the time to wait for the real deal and not a game. Nothing feels better than an honest spirit, warm arms ready to hold and a heart willingly to love someone who only wants to do the same with mine, every month of the year.
Have a safe cuffing season.
May the cuffs ever be in your favor.
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