#storytime no. 2: "meet me at wal-mart, heaux!"
My boyfriend's female friend is acting strangely towards me despite my kindness. Once he leaves town, she really starts trying it. I ask my boyfriend about it, and he says that he doesn't know what's up with her and that I should just ignore her. He tells me how much he loves me.
His e-mails to her, however, tell me that she's pregnant with his baby, and he knows about it.
To read the full story, check out my older blog post here.
I’d always heard that heartbreak affected you physically, but I never knew that the shit would hurt as badly as it did that night.
I logged back into his Facebook and found out that the message thread between him and his babymama-to-be had major holes in it. It seemed as though he had deliberately deleted certain messages but kept others in case I did decide to check up on their interactions. The ironic thing about this? I never was one to go through his phone, but he was the type who would go through mine as soon as I fell asleep only to wake me up in a jealous rage. Funny how that works.
Much to my dismay, I couldn’t quite piece together anything useful from the Facebook messages. All I knew was that it was clear that the girl was in love with him.
At some points, he would tell her to send him an email, but there also seemed to be gaps in those communications as well. Homeboy was smarter than I thought, and there were questions that I still needed answered.
To make matters worse, he was going to be without his phone for a few weeks due to a program that he was enrolled in meaning that I could not contact him. I couldn’t tell him what I saw, I couldn’t ask him any questions, I couldn’t even let him have it. He was inaccessible-- but she? She was not.
...but before the anger came the hurt. I cried the hardest that I probably had ever cried in my whole entire life. There was major sobbing broken up by hyperventilation. There was snot, there were moans of despair-- I was putting on quite the show in my bedroom that night. I called my best friend at the time, and she tried to soothe me, but boy, did it still feel like the world was ending. I needed a few days to cry it out, but once I was done with that...somebody was gon’ get they ass lit up.
I allowed myself a few days of sadness, and it only helped that that summer happened to be the summer of Beyoncé’s “4.” If anything could calm me down, it would be Bey’s singing ass. I bawled, I pitied myself, I wondered why-- but as all bad bitches must do, it soon came the time for me to boss up. So what did I do first?
I had to pretend to be him. Since he wasn’t here, and the only way I would have come to her as woman-to-woman (at that point of my life) would be through fist-to-jaw contact, I had to take matters into my own hands.
So, I decided to draft up my own email from him to her.
“Hey! I finally got access to a computer around here. I’m still not in town, but I told my sister and girlfriend about what happened. Is is possible for them to meet up with you somewhere so that they can see the test after you take it?”
It only took a matter of hours before she responded.
“I missed you so much! I’m really jumping from house to house right now because things aren’t going right with my mom, so they can’t come here.”
I stared at the message for a few minutes...
Then I logged into my personal Facebook account and searched her name in messenger.
“Look, girl, he told me everything. If we got to meet at Wal-Mart then we can because you either gone show me proof that you’re pregnant or you’re going to get run up on.”
Even though he hurt me, and even though he was the one to blame, I was young, in love, and ready to be reckless-- the complete recipe for a damn dumbass.