It wasn’t pushy or aggressive, but it was a solicitation nonetheless. “Don’t freak out..”, she eye balled me nervously, all too aware of how I fly off the handle. “Oh, I’m not mad.” My tone convinced no one and as her and her man made side eyes, I started furiously texting. So hard and fast my little fingers were about to fall off. It had been a long time since I had fought with someone so passionately. So angrily. So pissed off I saw red.
I tore down the freeway towards his house, knowing I was too angry for how new we were. But how could I just let this go? How could I act like the situation, and his response, were acceptable? After taking some deep breaths, for what was abouttttt 35 minutes, I pulled it together and went inside. I’d have to face him eventually… When he opened the door, I brushed past him and head straight upstairs. After about 5 minutes of staring at my phone, I looked up and could tell he felt bad. Looking at me sadly as he passed me the half smoked blunt. Followed by an apology for hitting on my friend, and for calling me a hoe. Great, thanks, I feel better now..
(Screenshots from my friend he DM’d)
My other bestie had a different response and said he did it for attention. “He had to know she’d tell you! He was just upset because “ex fuck buddy” kept calling you after you cut it off and he didn’t know how serious you were! That’s it. It’s funny if you actually think about it…” she said, matter-o-factly. Maybe she was right, what the fuck do I know about dating?
After a few days, I let it go and kept thing moving. Slowly, but surely, things got back on track. I had a hard time holding grudges, at least with people who can make me laugh, and unfortunately, this man could definitely do that. He started inviting me around his friends and artists he was recording with and shit started to seem normal. Almost like he was claiming me. The pre-title period.
As I walked to his house after RVA Fashion Week, my lace bra out for public viewing with only an open vest present to cover my nipples. He stared at me as I walked up, kissed me, and following up quickly with, “Most guys would probably feel insecure that you wore this out but not me. I don’t care what you wear.” It was random but I appreciated it. It didn’t seem petty or underhanded, just honest and considering who I am as a person, I liked that he didn’t seem interested in trying to control or shame me. Not that that was something I had experience in past relationships, but I also hadn’t really dated since writing a sex blog and posting my nipples on Instagram. So this was new territory as far as I was concerned.
It wasn’t just the accepting what I wrote and talked about, or how I dressed though. It was the fact that he ate my pussy, even when I was on my period. It was how he bought me coffee whenever we went somewhere that had it. It was how he cuddle me in the craziest way, limbs intertwined and wrapped around as much of me as he could muster. It was everything.
It wouldn’t be life if shit didn’t go south eventually though, and sadly, eventually was only a few weeks. My “ex fuck buddy” was still calling incessantly and new bae’s best friend was still causing issues via whatever snakey shit he whispered in Bae’s ear. So with shots being fired from all angles, it was only a matter of time before our ship was hit and we sank.
It started like any other fight, except in the opposite direction, as he accused me of liking all his friends pictures on Instagram. “You should have blocked him like your friend did to me when I DM’d her! That’s the way you’re supposed to handle it.” He was right but with him constantly bringing his friend around, it seemed like something he should have checked himself. I mean, he was his FRIEND after all.
(Screenshots from the fight where I “liked too many pictures”)
Now it was my turn to fire shots. Mad because his friend was DM’ing me after he tried to fuck mine?! If anyone should be mad here, it should be me. Obviously, we were getting nowhere with our stubborn attitudes and as quickly as the last time, shit escalated. Except this time, I wasn’t just being called a hoe, but also a feminist slut. One that had been apparently “shared with the homies”. Oh, alright. I was done, fuck his bitch ass and his pussy friends.
Before I knew it, a few weeks had passed of us not talking but I wasn’t feeling better. It was mid-December now and I was cranky. Cranky about him, cranky about the cold weather, just cranky overall. It was like a dark cloud was constantly hovering over me. I knew I got depressed in the winter but damn, this was on another level. Then, one day at work, my friend made a joke, “Hey, have you got your period yet? Can you imagine if you were pregnant with HIS baby?! Bitchhhh.”
After work that day, I immediately went to the store to get a test. A bottle of water and two tests later, I confirmed a negative sign, but I wasn’t convinced. I always got my period on the 10th and it was now the 22nd, almost two weeks late. Then, on New Years Eve weekend as I sat at my best friends house, the same friend he had DM’d, and confessed my concerns. “Well, I have a test? Want to take it?” she offered. Of course I did. I shook as I held it between my legs and peed because I already knew what the outcome was going to be. Sure enough, not even 15 seconds later, a pink plus sign popped up on the stick and almost as quickly, I started crying. It was obvious what had to happen, but that didn’t make it easier.
After a month of ignoring his texts and calls, it seemed it was time to give in. At least if I wanted to have a conversation. Wanted to discussion the options. Wanted to involve him in this. He hit me up on New Years Eve and I agreed to come over. We were both drunk and he was clearly shocked at my change of tone towards him. As we fucked that night, he whispered “you really need to get on birth control” and I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath. Oh, the irony.
“Okay, but when we’re done having sex, we need to talk.”
(Bonus Feature!! Screenshots from the argument after he DM’d my bestie)