I was engaged, then I wasn’t.

**EXPLICIT CONTENT**

What I’m about to share with you may be the most ghetto relationship experience of my life. No, it’s definitely the most ghetto relationship experience of my life. Now I’ve heard some fucked up stories in my lifetime, but I was pretty messed up over this one. And believe me when I say I’m not trying to one-up anyone on relationship drama, I know there are many jacked up situations happening as we speak that make my shit sound like Disney World. But I’m gonna share my story anyway because there are some things we need to address in regards to boundaries, and respecting one’s time.

A little over ten years prior to me publishing this, I was in a marriage that was quickly dissolving. The timeline was like this; 2007 boy meets girl, 2008 boy asks girl to marry him, 2009 they elope at the local spot downtown, 2010, girl finds out boy is a hoe and has been hoeing for quite sometime, 2011 we reenact the fight scene from Mr & Mrs Smith and then it was downhill at an exponential rate from there. I left our home in Spring 0f 2011 and our divorce was final late fall of that same year. I cried my ass off prior to leaving, to the point where them bitches was swollen shut. Ever wake up and realize you can’t see? THAT’s how long and hard I cried over a span of twenty-four hours.

I think the saddest moment for me was when we were at city hall, wrapping things up. Since we both couldn’t get away from each other fast enough, It was a pretty easy process. We went to the same office where we got the marriage license. From there we had to take some paperwork to another office in the same building to actually pay for the divorce and get a court date. I remember thinking if I knew we had to go through a waiting period, I would’ve been down with filing sooner. The waiting period is intended for couples to try to work it out one last time if I’m correct. Considering that we had already ‘tried’ to work on us and had given the maximum effort either of us were willing to give, we could’ve been free to terrorize someone else much sooner.

While waiting in the last office, I was sitting on the wooden bench that I’m sure had been in the same spot since the place was built, I was hit with an uncontrollable urge to cry. Similar to the way people just break down at a funeral, but without the dramatization. The tears flowed non-stop without effort. I sat with as much grace as I could but there was no hiding the running faucet my face had become. I really, could not stop crying. He paid the fees with a smile, it seemed as though him seeing me so broken about it gave him pleasure. I just sat there, quiet, tears pouring down my expressionless face. It felt like death.

He reached out to shake the women’s hand at the counter, and proceeded to thank her with “that look” in his eye, but she snatched her hand away rejecting his attempt to flirt, barely allowing a graze. It was a brief moment in sisterhood history. I mean we had literally just put in the paper work and he was already rubbing his new found freedom in my face as if to say, “look what I’m doing, say something.”

As sad as I was, I knew divorcing him had to happen. I knew that had I stayed with him-for the third time, nothing would change, I would’ve continued to be miserable while forced to live in a box built to keep me small and under control. I was 29, and walking away from everything I had spent the previous four years working for. Two of several people that helped keep me from withering away; my childhood best friend, who allowed me to live with her while I got my mind right, and a nice gentleman who turned out to be a great friend.

I decided at that point, that I would focus on me, finish school and get my shit together. As I mentioned, I had a guy friend for a while, and although I really enjoyed his company AND his dick for that matter, that friendship ran it’s course and I was back by myself.

A few months later, while at work, I met a handsome fellow, who was also at work. I knew that he could get it upon eye contact. And don’t take that literally - that’s just how we woman say, “he’s really cute or above”. Of course I didn’t take myself seriously, I just laughed at my thought and kept working. The second time I saw him, I made sure he left with my number. I didn’t put too much weight on whether or not he would call, my self-esteem was pretty shot by that point in my life. Actually, I didn’t really care whether or not he called. That may have just been a subconscious protection mechanism because as well as I write, my mouth piece needs improvement so I sorta avoid conversations unless I know what I’m talking about or who I’m talking to. So there I was, a painfully shy thirty-two year old who still didn’t know how to talk to or even act around men, especially the ones “that could get it”. But at the same time, wanting a relationship. Without diverting responsibility, I do feel as though my parents and church played a major role this. How dare they not prepare me for the real world?

To my surprise, he did call, that same night actually. And almost immediately I went right back into that little girl mode that I’m sure turned off that last dude. I didn’t realize it back then, but the longer I interacted with these guys, the more of a simple pick-me bitch I became. And it wasn’t even necessary. Let me stop to take a moment to forgive myself real quick. “Self, I forgive you.”

Our thirty minute conversation consisted of him doing most of the talking, and he got straight to the point. He shared that he was a father to one son, and that the son’s mother was like a sister to him so I would have nothing to worry about. He even said that he was ready for a relationship and wanted to settle down. I should’ve felt some sort of suspicion with how fast he was talking, and I mean that very literally, he was speaking a hundred miles a minute. That was a bit odd to me, maybe he was nervous? Idk.

A couple of days later he invited me to one of his basketball games. After they won, he took off his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and my homegirl followed up with a “GIRRRRL he look like he’d fuck the shit outa’ you!”

I looked her in her face full of hope and responded with a anticipatory “You think so?”

I’ll spare you all of the in between details and just tell you straight up, no we didn’t fuck the first night, because I was coming off my period, but I did suck his dick. Raise your hand if you just called me a slut. Now raise your hand if this has ever happened to you as a giver or recipient.

I spent-the-night, ran home in the morning and got ready for work.

The next time I was at his place we did indeed fuck.

He asked if I wanted him to use a condom, which I thought was a no brainer considering it was only our second time seeing each other. And no I didn’t forget that I gave him some head only after our third encounter. He put on the condom while I laid on on my back in his king size bed, watching and waiting. It had been about two months since I had sex at this point.

The ‘friend’ I was faithful to before him was a game changer for me and is one of two penises that I miss till this day. This new guy, who we’ll call “Red” for red flag, was not getting it. It almost seemed like he was trying to make love and my damaged ass was not used to that sort of care taken with my body. He put it in slow and started to grind in circles in a very slow and gentle manner. A member’s only section will be open soon, in case you’re just here for the sex stories.

I would have to learn a whole-new-man all over again; likes vs dislikes, sensitive areas on his body. Does he like an arched back or does it feel better with the pelvis tilted forward? This has always been a challenge because I wasn’t groomed to be a confident woman who’s comfortable in her body. Even when being in great shape, I was extremely self-conscious. Let me tell you, that did not help matters for me, just in general.

…

Once his soul returned, this 6’5” man laid on top of me, and got real emotional. I was a bit confused, and didn’t really know how to process that, so I just held him, rubbing his back. Looking back, I believe he really needed some love. At the time I thought it may have been guilt based, but if I consider what I know now, that man needed some affection. And even though the sex was kinda’ wack at first, I knew that good fucking was something that could be taught and I proceeded to make him my husband and the father of my children in my mind, just as I did with every other man I ever dated. I’m not proud. Here, right here, I’m setting the bar for my standards.

Based on my thought process back then, I figured I could make anything work. It was actually a strong belief of mine. If he could just be a basic man, I could do my part and just fill in the gaps if, or as needed. This lead me to accepting mostly build-a man projects. This is not to be confused with the man who is doing his own self-improvement work - which I fully respect - but one who’s playing the game when you leave and in the same spot when you get back… from work. Now that I have matured a bit more, I really understand the difference. You have to use discernment when considering why a person of a certain age is not quite meeting society’s standard. I encourage this to be looked at case-by-case, because there are men out here that are [like] Mr. Gucci, who will respect you being a team player and match your energy [reciprocate, show equal effort towards the success and happiness of the team]. I’ve never had that experience, but someone has so that deserves credit. I would love to ask Mrs. K how they built up the trust factor between them. I don’t watch much TV so I know very little about their personal lives, but I know about the thanks-for-holding-me-down gift, or investment rather, since she’s proven to be the “right hands”.

The relationship between Mr. Red and I was a co-dependent mess. Right away he showed signs that he lacked the skills needed to prioritize his shit and upon seeing that, instead of running for the boarder like I should have, I took on his problems, made them my own and proceeded to fix them. The first mistake was helping him catch up on his rent. I was pretty much broke every since that first handout because I entered into a relationship with a man who had very little sense of responsibility when it came to adulting. I see how that lead me to take on a masculine role in the relationship. This is also when I started to lose a bit of respect for him, smack dab in the beginning. THAT’s when I was supposed to leave. I would’ve been out of two, three months of my life at the most. I gave this fool seven years of my time, S E V E N. Imagine a baby being born, and then imagine seeing them off on their first day of second grade. Yeah, that long.

I stayed with this man through way more than I should have. The first warning shot was fired when I was doing his laundry. I found a check stub and immediately put on my detective hat. I never asked him how much money he made because I didn’t want to give gold-digger vibes. But I was curious. I found out two things. One, he made more money than me, cool. Two, he brought home about as much as me because of child support garnishments. Now I had started getting in good with the family, so I thought. I wouldn’t say I was friends with his kid’s mother, but we were cordial and even visited with each other here and there. I knew that she was not getting child support.

So, I asked him about it. “Hey I was doing laundry and found your check stub, I see that you’re paying child support and I know that your son’s mom doesn’t get child support. So either someone is lying or you got another kid out here.” Then I left him alone to marinate on the fact that I was hip.

Shortly after, he calls me into the living room, pulls up a Facebook picture of these kids, and points to the youngest girl, “This is her, she’s four years old.”

Was I mad? I was PISSED! And not even at the fact that he kept that very important detail from me for like a year. I was angry because I saw another little girl, who like me, had an absent (biological) father. Then I proceeded with my ultimatum, “Be her father, or be my Ex.”

“Damn, straight like that?!”

“Yes. You see how its affected me, why would you do the same to your own child?”

I didn’t let up, I asked him about it every few days and eventually, they had their first play date. He did good for a couple of years effort-wise, and then he and the mom got into it one post-Christmas day, and that was the last time I saw baby girl. I understood both sides. She was expecting her daughter home by a certain time for a reason. If I was fully aware of the situation, I would’ve encouraged him to just take her straight home, rather than suggesting we grab breakfast. My logic came from all of the stories I’ve heard my single parent colleges complain about, one being the dad not feeding the child(ren) before dropping them off. Having that insider information, I thought I was helping him to at least appear to be making maximum effort out of the best interest of the children. But I can’t help but to wonder if I should’ve just stayed out of it.

Or maybe non of that ever mattered.

Like my ex husband, Red’s inner hoe eventually surfaced, quite a few times to be exact. And in usual form, I just kept giving him opportunities to further disrespect me. Three more years into the relationship and yes, you guessed it, he got another woman pregnant. This woman and I had a whole conversation and based on the fact that she was hella’ emotional, I knew that he lead her to believe that they had ‘something’. Maybe they did, but he stayed with me - not that it meant anything. She either had an abortion or hid the fuck out that baby cause I never heard from her again after that. I lost even more respect for him and his decision making because at the time one of his friends was also expecting a child with a woman who was not his wife. So for him to see the stress it causes and still make similar behavioral choices was completely foolish to me, but not as foolish as me sticking around for as long as I did. “ARGH!”

Awareness. Awareness is so important. Not everyone can say “wait, let me think about this, am I wrong, is this in alignment with my real desire for my life, have I considered the other person, what am I really trying to do here.”

So, as it was, his looks began to fade. He wasn’t as funny. And the money didn’t matter, I was just spending all of mine trying to keep our house together anyway. Eventually, the ultimate deal breaker happened; my pussy stopped getting wet. And when my body stops responding it’s pretty much a wrap! And I’m not talking about those times where I was just tired or dehydrated, because those are all factors too. I also smoke weed and I hear that can play a part as well. But it started to get to the point where I was happier when he wasn’t around.

December 2019 I knew I was done, but wasn’t quite ready to make that move. Love, the things we deal with out of love, or because we’re delusional. Smh.

I finally stopped seeing a future in that half-ass relationship we was in. Regardless of how much love I felt or how strong the unhealthy attachment I had to him was, I had gotten to the point where I was like “you know what, I’d rather be single”. I didn’t want to be single, but at the time it was the better option. I was fucking miserable. Knowing my history with break-ups, I decided to be proactive and make an appointment with my therapist. Best 150.00/hour I ever spent. Although I was there to solely discuss my relationship issues and why I tend to hold on to the most unhealthy bonds when it comes to men, we started with my family history. “Ok Donna, fine, I’m not here for that, but we can talk about that”.

A few months into therapy, one in-office panic attack, and lots of progress made on the familial side, I started to come to grips with what I knew I had to do, and then BAM! “Will you marry me?”. There I was, stunned.

Against my better judgement, I said “Yes”.

I tried my best to hide all of the insecurities that flooded me with the idea of being this mans wife because I knew he wasn’t ready for that life. I was though; I was groomed for marriage but this guy was starting from scratch with no positive examples, he came from a long line of men who were ‘for the streets’, his stories, not mine, so it was unwise to expect anything different. Not saying that’s the formula, but it’s a factor. Actually, it was their reaction that was a factor, there was no disapproval for this behavior.

Anyway, we set a few tentative dates for the following year and started the planning process. During this time he actually gave vibes that he was actually trying to make-that-change (if you said that like in the Michael Jackson song, Man in the Mirror, we should be friends).

He was very involved in the planning and I was slightly surprised that he even had input. But I guess old habits die hard. I’m not gonna say this chic took my man because a mature woman understands that no one can take “her man”. But a bitch did slip in through the side door.

The ghetto part

Mid-pandemic, when everyone pretty much had that small group of people they felt safe hanging around, my ex started to take me around a few of his other friends, who I hadn’t really hung with before. Over time, I was introduced to more friends of friends one of which was a couple, also engaged, much like Red and myself. We all got real cool and started hanging out at each other’s home regularly, maybe a few times a week. We decided to take a little couples’ trip after the a few spots in the world went opened up. We found a nice crib on Air B&B, that let everyone pretty much have their own floor and the mini-vacation was in motion.

One night though, I found myself in a pretty awkward position.

We’re out on the lower patio, smoking, sippin’, talking shit and laughing. We went from the patio to the hot tub, but instead of four, there were only three. Him, her, and myself. Unbeknownst to me, these two planned a whole ass foursome, which I would’ve been down for had I been put up on game ahead of time. That could also have been a lie he made up anyway knowing I’m a Pisces freak, who knows?

Regardless, when he whipped his dick out in front of her I cut that shit off by softly shaking my head. He respected my ‘no’ and proceeded with the fourplay right in front of 1/2 of our couple friend. I was uncomfortable because her man wasn’t there and I felt like going further would’ve been a bit disrespectful. I don’t know what arrangement they had, but let me find out my whole fiancé had a threesome in a hot tub while I was in the same house sleep. It might be a problem. Not being able to participate, she decided to leave and we proceeded to fuck.

Maybe she left thinking, “don’t matter cause I already got that anyway”, or something like “she just don’t know”. And she would be right, I was oblivious! Although the red flags were glowing.

The abridged version is we went our separate ways shortly after that. I had one final outburst, when he came home in the morning to brush his teeth and then go back out to work. That was gonna be the last time either of us was going to have to deal with the other person’s disrespect. We had our exit interview, and there I was again, fighting like hell to resist the inevitable with tears flowing like Niagara.

I admit, something was a little different this time around. There was not as much crying as it was with my ex-husband. I did go hard in the paint a few times however, missing the things that I loved about him. But the crying eventually stopped as I always knew it would.

The only thing that mattered after that was making money and building something more solid for myself. I felt myself become hard, and it was naïve for me to think that I wouldn’t need a significant amount of recovery time after this breakup before attempting to get to know another man. Definitely longer than the couple of weeks I gave myself.

The hardest part about bouncing back this go-around is that I can’t help but feel like time is working against me. While I know there are many women who experience their best years in their later years. I’m still processing how I feel about it, and all of time I gave away. I can’t get the last twenty-years back that I wasted, trying to prove myself to the wrong men. If I can be transparent and honest, I totally regret giving my time away so freely. I regret not maximizing my time from the start, and being more conscious with the way I spent my resources.

I am however at peace with the fact that this is my truth, and I feel empowered knowing that I have the ability to change what I need to in order to be in alignment with my heart. I also understand the value of time alone. This is the first time, and the longest time since being a teenager that I can legit consider myself “single”. What’s different this time is that I’m not looking for something to make x = 40. I’m opening myself up for something to grow organically. Even in my late thirties with no children, and with the feeling that time may not be on my side at the moment, I’m not interested in rushing into anything. I want to know what it feels like to have quality relationship with a man, where we feel safe, trust each other and feel happy in one another’s presence. #couplegoals.