This story might piss a few people off… but when I say I don’t give two shits, let’s be clear: I don’t give two shits, one shit, red shit, blue shit.
So inevitably, it’s Valentine’s Day. Often referred to by many as Singles Awareness Day -S.A.D. In this case I’ll refer to it as Valen-he-ain’t-mines Day.
A rude f*cking awakening for me — I found out a dude I’d been rocking with real heavy had also started rocking with another chick. Not half as heavy, but feeding enough bread crumbs to string us both along. I’ll address him in another post, but for now we’ll talk about the other bird.
Please keep in mind, that I get this call, the weekend before Valen-he-ain’t-mines Day. Gift already purchased and everything because me and this dude had been heavy for the last 2 seasons of 2016 plus this year.
So I get a call, out of the blue, “have you been f*cking <insert name here>?” I’m thinking, this ain’t real life. How many calls I gotta get from the no-name chick that a dude has purposefully omitted out of conversation, do I gotta get? I’m completely blind-sided. I’m super reactive and therefore probably one of the worst people to ever blind side.
At this point I’m running hot, so I say, “please hold” let me call this boy on 3-way. Before the fellas moan and groan, let me say that this wasn’t one of the old skool set ups where I tell the chick to mute her phone and I carry the conversation on so that she can hear how he and I normally interact; I never felt like I had anything to prove. I just wanted the truth. Anyways, I’m honest and tell the dude, playa you on 3-way so what’s up?
In retrospect, I shoulda went old-school, but my happy ass was tryna be transparent.
He git on the phone and choke the hell up worse than the Falcons at Superbowl ’51 in 2017. He gives us some bullshit deflection, “yo, I’ll call y’all back. I’m doing homework right now”.
It was then, Ashley already knew the truth. I had a flashback all the way back to 2011 when I dealt with a similar situation. And when I tell you in 2011 I showed my entire ass, it wasn’t a piece of it, a part of it, but the WHOLE. entire. ass.
Ladies, if ever you confront a man and he needs to “call you back” or he’s busy right now and he’ll “hit you later”. Call bullshit. He just needs time to get his story together. He needs to collect how’s he gonna handle the situation because if he does it in the moment, on the fly, he could make a fatal error. Even if it’s just 2 minutes, he needs those damn 120 seconds to develop a story he can stick to.
But I digress.
He hangs up, so now it’s just me and her talking. I’m honestly shut down because I need to digest and assess the bus that just hit my ass, reversed, and ran me back over. Twenty-fucking-eight still dealing with twenty two year old problems. I’m almost a decade removed and still can’t get my shit together enough to not be dealing with the same bullshit.
I ask a couple questions, answer a couple questions and then discontinue the call.
Later, I have time to get my thoughts together and decide to call her back so we can have a real conversation like women. You know, woman to woman. My mistake. By the time I call her back, that dude had the time out he needed to wrap her right back around his finger.
Since fellas usually need a point of reference, think about a heated game where your FAVORITE team finally pulls ahead when they been down the WHOLE game and you KNOW they need a time out so they don’t do some fuck shit and throw the lead. Time out coach.
Within that time out, he managed to call her to the side lines. Calm her down. Reassure her. And resume play.
That’s a good fucking game. Well done my guy, well mutha-fucking done.
By the time I call her back, she seemingly ain’t phased by any of the honesty I’m sharing. That’s fine, I wasn’t sharing to win “the game”, I was sharing so her ass was aware that whatever pep talk she got in the locker room, wasn’t the true stats of the game.
He led her to believe that she was the only one ever really in the game from the jump, that I was never a real “competitor” and that for the duration of the game she had nothing to worry about.
I bet that’s what the Falcons thought too. I get a good hearty laugh from the bottom of my soul when I think about any third string wimmenz with pro-ball dreams.
At the end of the day, you still got played. *coughs* *getting played *coughs*
Tune in later this week for the rest of the story, I’m just getting warmed up.