Family Size Hole

February 21, 2019

 

 

It had been a few days but nothing had changed. My friend and I were still fighting. Fake bae and I were still good. Actually, not good, better than ever! We we going out more and diving deeper into each other than we had to start. Or so I thought. I was feeling confident, in myself, in us. So I didn’t really question the outcome of having “the conversation”. You know, the relationship one with feels and shit. Like, “OMG, we’ve been hanging a lot and I just like, really vibe with you. Let’s be bae’s forrealsies, you know?” *in my best valley girl voice* I started off strong, my prepared speech was solid, my facts concrete but I saw his face changed as the conversation turned serious. How fucking typical.

He had good reasoning, explaining he wasn’t ready for something serious, not after just having got out of a relationship with his BM. (BM means Baby Mom for those not familiar with the abbreviation) He was scared to start over, they had kids, history. They knew each other's families. It was a lot to let go of and get past and he just wasn’t there yet. To be honest, I totally got it. I mean, I’m not a BM and have never had a serious relationship of that magnitude, but I could respect it. The words and reasoning held weight. I couldn’t push him, not with that. So instead, I sat there, faking my best “I’m not upset” face, and waiting to get home so I could go cry in peace.

Jump to the weekend. I hadn’t seen fake bae since the convo, nor really spoken to him for that matter. He said he was busy but I knew he was full of shit. Thankfully, one of my friends was kid free for the weekend and trying to go out with some cute guys from work (a story I’ve shared in the past called “No New Friends”). Hesitantly, I agreed. The guys were mad cute but I had learned in the past that this was never a good idea. This evening turned out to be no exception. This story has no real place though, outside of the fact that when I was drunk and called fake bae for a ride. He didn’t answer. Or ever respond for that matter. Then the next day I saw it, an IG post by one of his best friends. It was a picture of him and his BM vacationing with them in Maryland. Damn.

My heart broke. Not only had I had an awful night but to wake up to that. What a slap in the face. I couldn’t believe it. Everything my best friend had said was right. He was an asshole. And, unfortunately, he was also my mentor in business. Fuck my face and call me Sally. This shit sucked. I was dreading speaking to him. Unsure if I wanted to cry and yell or act like I couldn’t care less. Because I’m me, I went with the latter. Also typical. It had been a few days and we finally had a chance to talk, finally had a chance to discuss the recent change in his life and what that meant for our business partnership. At the end of the day, I’m professional. I know I don’t always give off that vibe with my wildly inappropriate writing and what not, but I am. So instead of focusing on what couldn’t be changed, I focused on what could.

I told him I didn’t care and could respect what he needed to do for himself and his family. I was single and wild, I don’t fit the bill as step mom. Nor do I want to. Nor did he want me to. It was clearly a fling in which we had good sex and creative energy. Whatever. I knew this was only partially true, you know, different life, different situation type shit. But this wasn’t hypothetical, it just couldn’t work. That being said, we kicked ass creatively so, in unison, we agreed to continue with our business ventures. I was bringing in views afterall, it’d hurt him to lose me. We finished the talk and hugged goodbye instead of our normal whatever. But instead of leaving he just lingered and stared at me sadly. It wasn’t like we wouldn’t see each other ALL THE TIME still. The dynamic would just be different.

After a second, he leaned in and grabbed me and I fell right into it like a kid on an iPhone. I knew we shouldn’t fuck, it’d confuse things. Stir up feelings I had just successfully repressed, or so I thought. But as his dick pushed again me I couldn’t help but get wet. Couldn’t help but imagine it slapping against my face then shoved in my mouth. I wanted it in me and he did too. It was maybe 20 seconds before he had me on the bed, our pants off and his fingers in my pussy. Passion flowing through us, he shoved himself in me as I began putting my fist in my mouth. He moaned, pushing down on my hand. He was always into my weird kinky shit.

After we fucked it felt weird. It was wrong now, we weren’t supposed to do that or enjoy it. It was too good. This was gonna be harder than we thought. We shamefully separated and as he went to play pretend, I laid in bed, regretting all the decisions that led me to this point. Why was I so bad at choosing men when I myself am such a catch? #BummerCity A few weeks passed and to be safe, we largely avoided one another. Only going to shared events that were public, often with his BM and my friends (separately) in tow.

After a couple months and shitta awkward interactions later, I asked his BM and a mutual friend of ours to join me and smoke. There wasn’t much good stuff we had in common but we did like Henny and weed. We sat in the car, kicking back and talking bullshit. Dumb things like old friends do, as if we had no weird history at all. As we walked back we joke and laughed, drunk and high, we stumbled our way across the cobblestone and back to the bar. Until some kid, a local rapper, came up and asked us to buy his mixtape. We declined and when he pushed, fake bae’s BM responded, “I’ll ask my fiance if he knows who you are..” Fiance? Wait, I’m sorry, what?

I tried to hold in my reaction. I’m not a stupid bitch, I knew the delivery was purposefully. When does a girl bring up engagement accidentally? Answer is, NEVER. That being said, I gave her nothing. No twinge of resentment, no feelings of anger. I wasn’t going to react. Not to him and not to her. It’d be cool if I could say the story ended here. To say that I was the strong bitch, the exception to all the other women out here trying to sabotage one another. But unfortunately, I wasn’t. I spend a long time, wayyyy longer than acceptable, being pulled back into their shit. It was their game, of course they had made the rules. I don’t know how I ever truly thought I was more than a pawn. Used to move back and forth as a blaming point for their downfall. Their excuse to argue, to break up and to get back together. Fucking pathetic.

Jump to, I don’t know, a year ish later? Where nothing had changed except my relationship status. Turns out, that’s all fake bae needed. We had overcame a lot of obstacles between getting past his relationship stuff. Then figuring out how to do business and maintain a friendship while still being respectful of each others shit. It was a balancing act and no matter how hard we tried, pieces kept falling. I was in a dark spot, dating someone verbally abusive and a cheater. Fake bae was in a similar position but with frustrations about his job and home life. Neither of us were winning and it became clear, that's the only time we got along.

We tried venting to each other, tried sticking out the friendship. But through all the trials and tribulations, there wasn’t much left. The projects we had been working on slowly crumbled, as did our desire to jump back into it. Accusations had been thrown out, saying I, and others, hadn’t been helpful. Hadn’t contributed to his teams success and name. Feelings were hurt. Apologies were given. But it was all fake. Just another distraction from the issue that really is. We had beat the dead horse to a pulp. It was time to call it quits.

Turns out, I didn’t need him. Not as a boyfriend, fake bae or business partner. In the words of Kelsey Lu, “Didn’t know my feet were too big for my shoes. Running in them led me to bruise.” My dreams were too big, his focus too small. Too narrow. Too much the shape of his family. A lovely picture but an anchor nonetheless.

I say this all to say, be careful. Your business is your worth and no bitch is gonna back your messy ass up when you dig yourself a family size grave.

Trust me, I know from experience.

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