He would have killed me before I killed him. It would have been him up in this building. It would have be him fakin’ tears. But what’s funny is I’m the one standing here. –Jazmine Sullivan, “Call Me Guilty“
“Who the fuck was that?”
All I could do was laugh. I told his ass to be downstairs & instead he had me waiting on him. I was just getting off of work & supposed to meet “Him” for dinner. He’s usually already downstairs waiting on me, but I suppose he was running a little late today.
So as I waited in the cold, another guy approached me. Believe me, he wasn’t my type. But when he walked by, he did the turn-around-and-walk-backwards game thing. Since I kept looking in his direction he assumed I was interested. “Why you smilin like that?” he asked –this was def one of those “laughing at you” situations –to which I responded that I was waiting for my boyfriend. He gave me the ol’ “I can do better, but eventually kept it movin’. Unfortunatley (or maybe fortunately) he didn’t move it soon enough for “Him” to avoid seeing the last exchange, prompting the “Who the fuck was that?” statement.
“He said he’s gonna take me from you,” I joked but “Him” kept the mean mug on for a while. As we approached the corner of 40th&7th, he even tried to walk past the guy, so that he’d see us holding hands… I mean… my outfit was killer that day. “I’ll fuck that nigga up,” was all he kept saying at we went down into the subway. Ok. Tough Guy. I didn’t know where to go from here. Sometimes, a girl does like her man to be a bit jealous. But no one wants a drama-king for a boyfriend. I really do hate the tough guy act. Most guys who talk tough can’t back it up.
“Don’t get laid out in front of me,” I said. “I’ll laugh at you and leave with dude.” He only got more upset.
“Him” is taking me way to seriously. We play boyfriend/girlfriend so well sometimes, I forget that I just met him (not even a month ago). I asked him to come with me to put down my deposit on my new place. My new roommate is a guy and I kind of just needed him to see there was other male presence in my life –to show the roommate that I’m not available because it’s kind of hard to prove I’m not interested –and I’m not, but guys are nicer to you when they think they have a chance & he does this weird thing where he calls me pretty, & I just wanted to handle that situation in the easiest way.
“Can I take of my glasses?” He asked. (lol, this was the first time he let me see him with them on. Not the best sight y’all.. I need a man with less prescription.) “You want to look tougher?” I asked him & he responded with a head nod. “Do what makes you happy, babe,” was all I could say to keep from blatantly laughing at him. While we were in the apartment, signing… random… shit, he stood quietly. Erect, as if he were my shadow. I went to put my bag down & he offered to hold it for me. I told him that if I was going to live there, I was going to be comfortable.. Soo… we do this joke thing where he says he’ll beat me up and I tell him meet me on the streets.. you know. A big joke. But when he responded with a joking “I’ll punch you in your mouth,” I was tempted to push him out my 11th floor bedroom window.
You’ve got to curb certain things when you’re in front of other people. Granted, I new it was a joke, but if I heard it, that means my roommate heard it and that’s unacceptable. You can’t just say anything in front of other people. Now this might have been a slip of the tongue, or “Him” might just be the type of guy who likes to pretend he has his lady under control, especially in front of other people. What he fails to understand about me is the importance of my heritage to me: I am part Dominican, Jamaican, Chinese & Cuban. That means I use knives, big knives, tactfully plan my attacks and never back down. Simply put, he has no fucking idea. I’m the girl who, after I was swung at, came outside with a pipe. I’m the one who waited until he was close enough to throw bricks. I’ve changed a lot since then, but I’m still the same girl. Believe that.
When we left the apartment he said, “You can tell someone smokes in there.”
“Yea, he’s quitting the cigarettes, he said,” I told him.
“Nah like weed.”
“Oh. Yea. I know.”
“Ohh… That’s right. You smoke, too!” I just looked at him. “You better not smoke with that nigga.”
This is when I laughed but gave him an I’m noooot, to soothe his fears. Really though, who the fuck does he think he is? It’s one thing to give me orders. It’s another to tell me to stop smoking weed. Not to say I’m going to, but in all honesty, I’ll do whatever the fuck floats my boat. No man has the right to tell me what to do, especially not one I’ve only known for 3 weeks. And,YES. I like, and maybe love, weed. I’d smoke weed like people drink wine. Except I’d smoke my weed with wine. So fuckin what? If weed was legal I’d have it in the kitchen, in a jar on the counter –next to the coffee, sugar and flour. It’d say “Weed” right on the jar.
If this is how it is now, what does that say about the future? How much worse does this kid get? How many orders does he think he has the right to give? Even though he’s only given one so far, he’s one over his limit. You can spot a controlling man from a mile away if you would just pay attention. You should never let a man dictate what you can or cannot do. They can make suggestions, sure. Requests, absolutely. But I don’t wear a collar that says “Please return to…” so if he want’s to order someone or something around, he better get a dumb girl or a dog. DO NOT LET A MAN OWN YOU. & If he thinks he owns, you he better be paying one hell of a sum. The day a man makes any direct order I’ll even consider listening to… he better be my husband and paying all the bills (and treating me like a QUEEN). That’s when I’ll respond, Yes, daddy. lol.
But with “Him”, there’s something’s missing. Oh yea, my ring.