Sometimes I think back to a four month period of my life and wonder how I made it through the difficult time with absolutely zero drug usage. If it wasn’t for broadcast television and the Chelsea San Angelo , TX
Late at night, bored and numb after watching 7 straight hours of HGTV, I decided I would check the mail. It was late and as I was walking up to the collection of mail boxes provided by my apartment complex I notice a black cat in the distance. Not an actual cat, but a man whose face first struck me as cat-like. He had the face of a panther, the bulge of a blue whale and personality of a kitten. We locked eyes for a moment as he purposely dropped the stack of mail fumbling in his arms. As I helped him pick up his mail we struck up a conversation. We started hanging out after that, in the beginning I’d get massively drunk and call him when I was horny. It was risky, feelings were involved, he was in the military, my favorite new show on ABC, The Witches of Eastwick, was about to be canceled and also because he was going through a divorce, after a couple months of sex I started to fall for him. It was exciting, sneaking around, I’d never done something like this and it provided that “Lifetime” thrill I had been missing in my life.
His wife at the time was a ghetto black girl we’ll call Abortioniqua. Abortioniqua was in school for cosmetology and encouraged every stereotype a black woman has ever had. I imagined beautiful, powerful black women like Beyonce, Keri Hilson, Tyra Banks and Monique, ashamed of this woman. She had a job she worked at for 8 hrs a week, and left all of the bills up to “the husband” as she called him. She routinely called her husbands job and made up lies to try and get him fired. She called the police to get him arrested; she got in fights at clubs, and even as I’ve heard it, slept with one of his friends, a woman. Abortioniqua was what made the relationship Mark and I had, interesting, exciting, and tiresome. The constant sneaking around took a toll on me and after a while I demanded that the divorce be finalized. He started pushing divorce more with her, how she didn’t see this coming was beyond anyone at that point. He had been sleeping on the couch for the past six months and said about two words to her on any daily basis. She started checking his emails and following him. We used extra precaution, with him being military, the risks were even higher. He could’ve been kicked out of the military or even worse, being forced to stay married to her for much, much longer. Perhaps he wasn’t as cautious as usual or she just wasn’t as dumb as we thought, after all, we did all live in the same community. Did we really think that she would never notice his car parked over at my apartment everyday?
Mark stayed over one evening, which I enjoyed because this was rare considering the amount of discreetness we endured. We made out for 30 minutes then he left. I pranced around in my boxers afterwards, made myself a bowl of cereal and started to watch cartoons. Right as I start to take the first spoonful of delicious Special K, I heard a knock at the door, Mark must have forgotten something. I open the door, boxers on and cereal in hand to be met by a pointing finger and flying questions by Abortioniqua. “Are you Sam?!?” she shouted. My mind raced, “how much could she know?” I wondered. She shouted the entire time, wondering why he was always at my apartment, after a while I could tell she had no clue that I was Marks lover or that he was even gay for that matter. I started to return some the attitude; Mark had been right about her the whole time and any guilt I felt was long gone. The woman was a grade A bitch, with a black belt in psycho! I I was pokerfaced after about 10 seconds of arguing with a gorilla faced, ghetto girl from bad girls club. I closed the door with a “yes, uhhuhh, yep, oh yeah, sure, ughuhh, yeah I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” She replied by pounding on my door and demanding that I get my pussy ass out there and bring the “white bitch” with me. Little did she know that I was the “white bitch” and I certainly didn’t feel like getting jumped that early in the morning. I watched out of the window as another, much prettier black woman held her back from destructing my door any further.
Mark called to apologize, I moved to another city and we continued our relationship, through the divorce and onward into our own problems. The moral of this story is to keep it simple people, don’t date married dudes. Married dudes!!! Stop sleeping around til after your divorce is FINAL!! Its not fair for anyone!
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