New Type Of Baby Daddy
“My mother had me when she was 13” says, Mrs. French’s daughter, Cairo to Jalyssa. “ She didn’t know how to be a mother. She didn’t even know how to be pregnant. She was still just learning how to have a period. She still didn’t like boys. With me, she had to learn how to be a woman before being a child. My father is my grandfather. My mother hates the word, “baby daddy” because it reminder her that her baby daddy…is her daddy. I’m 27, about the same age as you. No matter the fact, I don’t feel 27. Some nights, before she became this woman you may admire, I was the one cleaning her up after a long night of partying. Before she met my stepfather, I was the one defending her from deadbeat, abusive men. I haven’t had the chance to be a child. At 27, this is my first year being young. The sad thing about this…I don’t know what that means, to be young.”
Almost every success followed suffering. When you look at Lebron James, Mark Zuckerberg, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Tavis Smiley, Oprah Winfrey, Jon Stewart or Steve Harvey, you’ll note they all share a common denominator; something pushed them to be great. Being great isn’t always a convenient choice. Sometimes, it’s your only option outside of repeating the failures or your parents or peers. Cairo wants to replicate the mother she has now. Not the one she grew up with. Now that Mrs. French is a mother again, while pregnant, Cairo can noticeably detail the difference in how she’s preparing for the baby.
“My mother will treat that child like a gift. She has to. There is no way she can endure such pain and not give my sibling the love needed. The strength I have isn’t by desire. It’s by circumstance. While my mother was learning to love herself, she was also learning how to love me. Providing isn’t the end game of how to love a child. She learned. She taught me how to love. Most importantly, she taught me how to pray.” Jalyssa asks, “What does prayer have to do with anything? I prayed. Look at what God did to me?”
Cairo responds, “I remember hearing about your rape on TV. The forced pregnancy. Then you had the miscarriage. In the Holy Bible, Job went through much but his prayers were answered. You know why? The story wasn’t over yet. His story didn’t end with, “Job suffered.” Just because you pray, doesn’t mean you don’t suffer. Just because you have faith, doesn’t mean the enemy neglects to target you. Praying doesn’t end all the bad this earth offers. What it does, in my belief, is prepare you for all the good God will give to the faithful. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once wrote, “Unearned suffering is redemptive.” In essence, the journey of this unfair hurt won’t end without victory. You won’t suffer forever, but when you succeed outside of the pain, you must be ready for the success your endurance provided, otherwise you suffered in vain.”
Are you praying to be ready for what you’re praying for? In church, my pastor Dr. Raphael Warnok said, “When going through hell…keep going.” Meaning, if you’re going through a tough time in your life…just keep going through it. You will get to the other side. If you give up now, you won’t ever see why you went through the injury, the broken heart, cheating, divorce, breakup, disease, loss…etc. Keep going through hell because…maybe heaven is on the other side. Are you ready for it?
Being A Black Woman
Blog Series 26
How can a mere man tell you about being a Black woman? What would I know? Why would I dare attempt to fail at educating you about you? When would it make sense for a man to own the bravado needed to actually say, “I know what it is to live as a Black woman?” My answer? It should never happen. However, it does. Men all around the world are mouthpieces for a gender that they know little about. Yet, amazingly no matter how little we know about women, it doesn’t stop men from placing their behavioral views on them. Following in their footsteps is asking for regret. Therefore, it won’t be my belief on how women should be…but what I’ve seen. As a matter of fact, it’s what Jalyssa sees.
In the home of Mr. and Mrs. French, she notices something. Even though the wife is a doctor…she still serves her husband. Breakfast is made for her husband. His clothes are ironed before he wakes. A cup of orange juice and coffee awaits him. Each day is the same. She isn’t a housewife. She isn’t a maid. She is a woman…a Black woman. Jalyssa is confused. Why is someone who can be so independent treating this man like he’s her god? What’s wrong with her? Is she insecure? When will she realize he can cook, iron and make his own drinks too? Jalyssa’s inner inquiries become vocalized. She asks Mrs. French, “Why are you being a servant to Mr. French? You do know he’s a grown man who can do all the things you do for him? Isn’t that enabling?” What follows…is a lesson one generation missed.
She stares at Jalyssa for a moment. A smile reaches from cheek to cheek. This smile is so bright; it awkwardly causes Jalyssa to smile as well. Mrs. Francois speaks, “Young lady, you have so much to learn. Honestly, your generation has so much to learn. I have three degrees, make six figures, can hire men to be my husband everyday and never have to answer or serve anyone…but is that why God has me here? Is that living?” Mr. French walking on the conversation. She’s in her, “Teaching voice.” The look he gets from his wife is common. It’s the look of, “It’s about to go down.” He smirks, sits nearby to enjoy being an audience member to this occasion. She continues, “I can do it all alone and be happy alone but is that living? Being independent is a beautiful thing and believe it or not, I am independent but a man wants a woman who is INTERdepedent. Someone he can work with and be equal to not a slave or master.” Jalyssa is star struck. She didn’t know what she got herself into. Despite the unknowing venture she journeyed, the conversation kept her captivated. Mrs. French continued.
“Why can’t I serve my husband? He earned me. I didn’t offer myself to him for attention and compliments. This man was a good man before he met me and aimed to become a better man after. Why not serve a man like this? You see, it’s weird. I know women who serve deadbeat men like they’re kings. These women bring home the bacon, take care of the children and provide this no nothing brother warm legs to enter without ever asking for anything. He didn’t have to be good or great at anything but she serves him. When a good, educated Black woman does the same, it’s somehow lesser. As if I’m weak for giving my man what he gives me. Now, he does the same for me. I know you see the foot rubs on my bad days. Not have I ever had to open a door. The bills are paid, even though I can afford them myself. This brother makes me smile not just with compliments but empowering me in my worst of days. This is the least I can do to thank him. One day, you’ll have a man, not boy, but a man of your own. If he earned you, I guarantee…you’ll treat him the same way. That’s being a Black woman…with a good Black man.” Jalyssa is…forgetting to breath.
A Black woman ran a marathon the other day. That’s nothing new or outside the norm. She ran the marathon…almost eight months pregnant. You know what some had to say? “She didn’t win.” That’s how powerful Black women are. When a regular period CRIPPLES most women for 3-7 days, for Alysia Montano, that was just another day in her life. Being a Black woman seems to be a double-edged sword. You can be strong but never vulnerable and if you’re vulnerable, you’ll be considered weak. No matter how you cut it, the walk of a Black woman is different than most cultures. Be that as it may…to all my sisters…keep being amazing. My only modest advice, amplify your amazing ness by dating someone who is just as amazing. Otherwise, you might fall prey to babysitting instead of loving. You deserve it.
Blog series 25
“Are you out of your FUCKING mind?? My daughter has a cigarette butt burn on her forehead and this isn’t a sign you need to change? You let some random dude put a cigarette out on my daughter? Drake says. Sandra replies, “What mother would want her child burnt? How dare you think I would allow it to happen? He was drunk and did it unknowingly or something. I don’t know why he did it. I rushed her to the hospital. They say it will just leave a little scar. Don’t cuss at me, Mr. “Good” man. I thought you were too “good” to use that language.” Drake smirks and says, “It will just leave a scar? Maybe that doctor wasn’t referring to the physical but the spiritual scar she’ll have. This girl turns two in two weeks but has seen mommy bring a new “Daddy” home every other month. Who knows if these men are fondling my child? You know what…the court hearing is a few days away…my prayers will be answered.”
Drake continues, “Aren’t you sick of being someone’s “main”? Don’t you want to upgrade to having someone at least change their Facebook relationship status for you? Why is it so easy to get in your pants? What’s even more mind-boggling is the sheer times you’ve contracted gonorrhea. Wasn’t that a sign that at the very least you should wear condoms with these animals you date? Outraged, Sandra fires back, “Animals? What makes them animals? Yeah, everybody I date may not be husband material or even father material but you know what? At least they don’t judge other people. At least they live each day to the fullest. They may not have much or want much but they don’t bother anybody. There’s no stress to be perfect with them. I can just be flawed and enjoy life with them. So what we may never have a house, two car garage and a German Shepard. I’m fine with being in an apartment and owning a pit-bull. I’m just trying to live!” Drake breaks down. He literally collapses onto a chair. His face trembles. The words flow like water out of an open faucet.
“I get it…you want “Swag”? Someone without plans, if they had plans, they lack ambition to see those plans through or integrity to even keep the little plans they have going? She tries to rebuttal but he continues. “You want a “REAL MAN” A brother who has more cons than pros. A living walking excuse machine. When times get tough, he leaves his responsibilities instead of handles them. (Mockingly) The stereotypical, “The White man made me broke, an absent father and drug dealer with multiple convictions, “REAL MAN”? Okay, it makes sense. Well...my daughter won’t have to suffer while you digest this YOLO mindset. Hope you also know that on the opposite side of YOLO is YODO because that’s the same amount of times you can die. Your daughter will live only once and what she’s seen is a mother who cares so little for her own life, she ransoms her child’s permanent memories for the pleasure of temporary men. Wonder how you would feel if she brought home the same type of men you prostitute your heart to?"
Sandra isn’t breathing. She’s thinking. Why is she continuously surrounding her heart with men who can never love her the way she deserves? She’s thinking. Her parents didn’t raise her to be someone’s “sex buddy.” They are still happily married to this day. Why? Why is she ignoring an evidently God sent man for men who seem to have no angelic purpose in her life? She wasn’t stupid or brought up around the type of men she dates…It was poison. She finally got it. The enemy wasn’t these men but her standards. They aimed to keep her from love. In these relationships, she was always the giver of love. The idea of them reciprocating kept her around. It never happened. These men were just as amazed at dating an educated, clean woman. Why would they ever change? If they did nothing to get something so great…why do something and risk losing it? Hope kept her in their beds but reality just kicked Hopes butt. Sandra feared being loved right. Love isn’t one-sided and she understood it now. She speaks, “I get it. I won’t fight you in court. I will willingly give you her. Just do me a favor…pray for me. I’m about to do what I should have done a long time ago.”
Sandra moves back in with her parents. All social media accounts…deleted. All phone contacts of men she entertained…deleted. She was voluntarily cleansing herself of this mindset. Why? If she didn’t do it now, there would be no magic in her future. How could she ever become the wife in the white dress scrolling down the aisle with her husbands loyal hand interlocked with hers? It would always stay a dream. It would always stay a fantasy. “REAL MEN” get married. “REAL MEN” scroll down aisles and marry the mother of their children. “REAL MEN” get women like Sandra. Well…they will... Hopefully if you’re in this situation, you take a moment to do what she did…give yourself a chance to Be Loved Right.
He Opted Out.
Blog series 24
A mirror couldn't hold his image. He was gone. There would be no sequel to the movie of their relationship. No rematch to the fight over her heart. The towel was thrown. Words, "I just can't do it anymore" introduced the pain of, "I knew better." An apology was warranted but too late and meaningless. Her, "I'm sorry" was already tattooed on his heart. The infamous, "Give me one more chance" was a bumper sticker on his soul...he peeled it off and threw it away. He's too hurt to be healed by broken promises. Lurking inside every man is an, "I quit" switch. It was switched.
Jalyssa was in recovery. No longer a slave to her feelings, so she thought, she wanted to date again. Each man reminded her of Pastor Baptiste. They were all, "too good to be true" but at least not married. Yet, no matter how much they compared, they were never "good enough." Date after date, text after text, she became immune to the "dating game." She would smile, laugh and wait for them to lose interest after she said, "I'm celibate." Like clockwork, they would give up. The calls slowed to a crawl and texts would go from 140 characters to four words or less. Everyone stopped being sweet and became annoyed. This is the life she chose and expected. Then the unexpected called.
He was as Haitian as soup Joumou. Sex was on his mind but respect took the forefront. "I can wait. I don't even know you, anyway." was his retaliation to her "I'm celibate" response. Honestly, he was honest. She was beautiful, sincere and goofy as a newborn gazelle. This all pleased and interested him. Their kisses could have the subtitle, "I miss you" over them. Asking to be her boyfriend and plastering all social media about her, "Yes" was enjoyable to see. His calls and texts never decreased, only increased. One thing did change, though.
Little by little she kept comparing him verbally to Pastor Baptiste. You see, early in relationships, we don't pay attention to tiny details that might blow up later. Each, "You better not have a wife." or "Do you have another life?" irked him. She was still broken. He was her token. The man she used to heal. Not the man she would love forever. Casual jokes became hurtful. Soon, being so vulnerable to someone's pure intentions scared her. She would have been happier if he was like the rest. "What do you really want from me?" became a daily meal he was forced to eat. Popping up to his house unannounced in hopes of "catching" him in the act was disgustingly frequent. Sifting through his phone, unlocking passwords and writing back female friends were becoming an evil norm. Sad fact, she never found anything worth mention but used it all like fuel to drive him away. So he did and never drove back.
"The best way to get over one man, is to get under a new one." is the female common adage regarding relationship recovery. How has that worked? Many times the next man is a victim to horrible treatment. When has sex ever healed an issue? Have you ever witnessed sex save someone? Better yet, where have you seen dating for healing make the pain go away? Odds are, you haven't. If you have, it was an illusion. We are a delusional bunch. Using people's emotions, time and touch to mask our immaturity. When you're damaged, take time away from dating. I always use half the time I was with someone as a good gauge for redating. (Ex: If I was dating for 4 months, I'll not date for 2) When I would resume dating, every woman would receive, "I'm not looking for a relationship, still getting over my ex." If they thought this was a lie, joke or whatever, it didn't matter. At least I was mature enough to consider their feelings even if they believed mine were fiction.
"People think because I'm White, I don't have "Black" issues. It's a lie. Many White men, like myself, grew up without a father too. Black people don't own the rights to deadbeat dads. My father was around until I was five but he was an alcoholic drug addict who beat my mom so much, she has visible scars... 20 years later. Even when he was around, he wasn't around. He only came to steal, beat or rape my mom and tell me how much of a nothing I would become. This man has at least seven other children. Who kept sleeping with him? Even more importantly, who kept sleeping with him...without a condom? Black people aren't the only ones who have abandonment problems. Do you really think all White fathers are these great men who stick around every day from their child's birth until their own death? No. It's a lie the media wants Black people to believe so they will always look up to us instead of realizing we're more similar than different. I guess I'm telling you this because...I never want to hurt you like my dad hurt my mom. As a matter of fact...I promise I won't." Jonah, Tanya's boyfriend, said all this and she needed...all this.
Tanya never really dated White boys. I know, even though she herself is White, the idea never really crossed her mind. Of course many of her buyers were White in the beginning but that didn't matter. She just never believed a White man could make her, "wet" without money being involved. They just seemed too "lame." How could a corny preppy White boy make her creamy? Jonah...Jonah made her legs drip like a broken faucet. What turned her on the most...is he didn't care about sex, he wanted her. What really made her "wet"? The mere fact that her mental arousal outweighed her physical arousal. If in between her legs were dripping, her mind was a waterfall. In order for this to happen, she had to do what many women won't do...give up and give in.
There are a ton of good men out there. However, they are considered lame, too good to be true, too nice...etc. Society, as I've written before, has done a number on the psyche of women. As long as you inspire women to equate good with boring and bad with fun, you lower the chances of them ever indulging in healthy storybook relationships. Too many of my personal friends have storybook relationships. Ex: I introduced them; they didn't want to chat, ended up chatting, fell in love and are happier than ever. Even the classic, she approached him, they date, she leaves him and they end up back together happier than ever. Each couple is educated, God fearing, loving, supportive of one another and just plain...good. This is my actual life. I've witnessed too many good people in healthy relationships. They only had to do one thing...give up on society. Why? Society is single, miserable and unhealthy.
Tanya knew the idea of finding a broken man who "needed" her, then she would "fix" him and "make" him into the man of her dreams...was a stupid idea fed to women daily. All cultures are force fed this lie. Disney's Aladdin is an example. A thief gets a princess. Even Beauty and the Beast. A mean man is won over by love. How painfully powerful. Instead of thanking the thief for saving her life...she had to dates and "makes him" a prince? Instead of ignoring the mean beast, she "made him" into a man? Tanya...just gave up and gave in. Now she gave herself a chance...to love.
Jonah promised to not repeat the cycle. There is much to learn in this moment. Are you repeating a cycle of your parents? If your mother were a single mother, you would do her no favor by becoming one. If your father was a deadbeat dad, what good would the earth be if you became the same? Today, I ask you a favor...give up and give in. Make the right choice because it's the right choice. The world we live in wants to see you obese, sick, lonely, on many medications and still following failed trends. This is what you know is wrong. Give up and give in. You need to make a promise to yourself...
Her White boy.
Blog series 22
Healthy food costs too much and has no taste. Gas efficient hybrid cars are too slow and “look weird.” Working out ruins hairdos, is hard to fit into weekly schedule and is too exhausting to do daily. Good guys are too boring, too good to be true, too controlling and hard to find. Fast food has seasoning, smells much better and it doesn’t cost a lot. A regular car isn’t expensive and looks so much better than a hybrid. If I was meant to die I would die, so working out is a waste of time. Bad boys are good in bed and fun! I know, some of the above probably sounds like your voice in words. If not your voice, then the voice of someone you know. If not that, then a conversation you’ve entered in your life. This is the world we live in. Where everything bad is good and everything good is bad.
Who do you think benefits from this way of thinking? Can you imagine how life would appear if we actually worked out regularly, ate healthy foods, weren’t spending wild amounts of money on gas and lastly…dated people with futures instead of horrible pasts? Well, what would happen is what you’ve probably been praying for. Tanya prayed for something, now she has it. A classic, “Good man.” However, when it comes to getting what you pray for, there comes an issue many just seem to fall on. You see, we expect bad for so long, we desire it. Therefore, when good finally arrives, we’re stuck with a decision to make…do I accept it as is or do I throw it away and go back to waiting for perfection or the trash I dated before. Tanya is about to be an example.
Three weeks in and no “sex talk.” She’s surprised. She is also a bit at odds with him and his approach. They watch scary movies, talk about the “fake butts” of celebrities, fight over which Holy Bible verse is better, pray together at night, go to sleep on the phone and wake up with it glued to their faces (They both drool…how cute). She’s just waiting. Another week goes by and she breaks the ice. Wants to know his sexual history. He tells her of his many “bed visitors” and asks her about hers. Afraid to tell him her past of being a prostitute but goes in anyway. He doesn’t flinch. Simply asks, “Have you been tested? If so, are you clean?” She details that she had an HPV scare when she was younger but it went away, like many women. Then he laughed and praised God. He said, “It’s funny, only He can take two people with such a past and make them whole.” They both laugh. They kiss. Clothing is coming off. He holds her face. Stares her deep into her eyes. He says, “We’re not ready for this step. If you are, I’m not. I prayed for a woman like you. Won’t let sex ruin what we have. ” She calculates the treatment and then the lack of desire for sex and comes to a conclusion in the form of a question, “Are you gay?” He jumps back, smirks and says, “If I would’ve banged your brains out, I would be straight. However, the mere idea of waiting to marriage or at least until you’re my official girlfriend and not just a “friend”…makes me gay? You have your life messed up. Please leave. We’ll talk tomorrow.” This is the world we live in.
How do you expect God’s prayer to look? You are praying for a car so…you think He will send you a 1990 Corolla with no wheels, engine and doors? I bet if someone gave that car to you, you might praise God thinking that’s your prayer answered. You might be satisfied with such a gift. No question, you might spend the money to get it fixed up so you can finally drive. In the same sense, if someone at your church, temple or mosque came up to you and said, “My daughter moved to Israel with her husband. I have a new Hybrid Lexus with only 2 miles. That’s how far the dealership is from our house. You can have it. I don’t need it.” You would probably think that’s, Too good to be true. Then you’ll ask, “Did you steal it or is it stolen?” Why can’t God be so amazing that what you pray for…won’t be messed up? Isn’t He powerful enough to give you what you pray for without it needing so much work? If He isn’t…you need to pray to a new God or become one.
God Stopped Talking...
“Can I pray with you?” His first words made her heart…hurt. It was a shock. No, not because of what he said…but when he said it and where. Tanya never expected someone to utter those words to her…in Wal-Mart at 11pm.
She’s been praying for some time now. Asking God for a “good man.” However, like clockwork, she either meets another Peter, Pookie or Pablo who isn’t about anything, “needs” her to upgrade him or is just a representative. God kept telling her, “His love will hurt.” She didn’t know what it meant. No matter the fact, she just kept praying. Knowing God was paying attention. He had to be. For some reason, this day is the first day…He stopped talking.
An unexpected rainy day in Atlanta caught Tanya off guard. While leaving Wal-mart on her way to catch a midnight movie with Jalyssa and Sandra, she left her raincoat and umbrella in the car. Her goal was to run, dodge the rain and enter her car without ruining her clothing or wetting her Holy Bible and purse. Sometimes our goals and reality…don’t match up. Trying to be swift, she ended up slipping on asphalt, rolling and scrapping her entire left leg pretty bad. Once in the car, upset but jovial, she yelled, “God, if I had a good man, he would’ve gotten wet, drove the car over and I wouldn’t be soaked right now!” She laughed then suddenly, which is common for Atlanta’s uncommon weather, it stopped raining. At that moment she discovered her Holy Bible was dropped during her poorly executed “choreography”. Yes...she had to go back into Wal-mart.
Walking back. The snickers from those who witnessed the fall didn’t hurt. Even the odd limp she now owned wasn’t what hurt. What really hurt was watching the women who stood by the curb and waited for their good men to get the car, pick the shopping bags and let their women enter without risk of being caught by Atlanta’s trick weather. As soon as she reached the Holy Bible, a gentleman picked it up. When she raised her head, she noticed this brother. He wasn’t dreamy. He wasn’t exceptionally tall. He wasn’t the athletically built gorgeous man she’s accustomed to ignoring. He was handsome, dressed in cargo shorts and a Morehouse sweatshirt. He wore an Atlanta Falcon baseball cap and had very nice teeth. He was White as snow with long black hair. The latter of which caught Tanya off guard when knowing Morehouse is a Historically Black College. He asked, “Can I pray with you?” She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. She just knew…God stopped talking for a reason. Now she is left to talk to a prayer…answered.
Are you prepared for what you pray for? Are you? Are you honestly prepared for the good man, woman, money, weight or health you’ve been asking? If you are, when God gives you directions on how to attain it…what do you? Sometimes we want to be healthy, God sends you signs of how to eat, workout…etc but we ignore it. Sometimes we want someone “good” but the moment they arrive, we wait until they mess up or show a common flaw and we desert them or make them, “a friend.” What are you doing with God’s promises? Think about it. He will answer but what will you do?
He asks. You Answer.
Blog Series 20
Sandra and Tanya convince Jalyssa to visit a poetry lounge. This weirdly dressed poet grabs the mic and begins, “Ladies, there are only three exclusive relationship positions a woman can be inside a man’s life, girlfriend, fiancé and wife. That’s it. Nothing is “complicated” about it. If you’re giving “girlfriend” exclusivity to someone who didn’t ask you to be a girlfriend…you’re not a girlfriend. If you’re giving fiancé treatment to someone who didn’t ask you to be his fiancé…you’re not his fiancé. If you’re giving “wifey” loyalty to someone who didn’t bother to get down on one knee, have a wedding and tell the world, “I love her”, then you are not the wife. What are you? Nothing, just a woman in his life that he’s given attention and compliments to. Therefore, you felt certain you’re the only one and gave him your all in hopes…he thinks the same. I have a story for you.
He continues, “Three young girls were walking home from elementary school. All were 10. They saw an old man building a bridge over all the broken glass, sharp rocks and dangerous material found on “The Path.” One of the young girls, the leader, noticed his work and asked, “Old man, why are you building this bridge? We don’t mind taking the long way around. Anyways, you’re too old to finish. You have at least another 10 miles to go. You won’t even get to walk across it, you’re too old. Old man? You don’t want to talk? Probably can’t hear.” The old man continues to build as the three young girls walk. One young girl looks back starts to talk to him but refrains for fear of the leader and just follows the other girls’ footsteps. Five years pass.
The young girls are now young women. At 15 they visit “The Path” on their way home from high school. The leader of the group notices the Old Man again, “Hey old man! Why are you still building this bridge? I see you putting cement on each brick and doing all this hard work for what? Why? You’re too old to even walk across this thing when you’re done. Hello?? You’re not going to talk old man? I hope you die out here then, old man! Let’s go girls.” All the girls follow, but one looks back. She starts to talk to the old man but fears the leader and just follows the other girls’ footsteps. Another five years pass.
In college, the three young women are now women. At 20, they plan a reunion back home, walking near “The Path” the leader catches a glimpse of the Old Man still building the bridge over all the broken glass, sharp rocks and dangerous material. She asks, “Old man, it’s been about 10 years since we seen you here. We have to admit, you’ve done a LOT of work. They all nod in agreement. She continues, “No matter the fact, you’re now definitely too old and the bridge is about 6 miles away from completion. You won’t get done any time soon and definitely won’t walk it. Why do you do this?” Again, he ignores her. Placing cement on the bricks, he works. Angry, she says, “I hope you die out here then, old man! You aren’t ever going to finish anyway. Let’s go girls.” One girl stays. Now she’s a woman. She doesn’t just follow the leader. She asks the Old Man, “Can you forgive my friend? She has always been the somewhat ignorant one. He nods in agreement and continues to place cement on the bricks. The young woman continues, “May I humbly ask, why are you building this bridge over all these harmful things when we’ve taken the longer way around for so many years? The old man picks up his head and says, “I’m not building this bridge for me. I’m building this for those who come after me. I don’t want them taking the longer way around and nor should they have to suffer my same struggles as a youth. I build, for those I may never see.” After he says those words, the old man dies. The woman sees him there, picks up the bricks and starts to put cement on them. There are two characters you can choose to be in this story. The person who tries to succeed by taking the “long way” courtesy of making the same mistakes their parents or friends did or the person. The one who takes the shorter way using, “The Path.” The Path is learning from the mistakes of others and building a bridge with your mistakes then teaching others about them so they too will have a shorter walk in life. Who will you…who are you? Don’t settle for what your parents settled for. You deserve to be a wife not just a “it’s complicated.” If your mother died a single mother, your grandmother too, why should you? Change the path. Be more than someone’s option. If you become a wife, then you create a path for women to walk. They can be like you because you built a bridge that says, “I’m wife. Follow me.” There is nothing glamorous about being anything else.
The girls had a charge. Be nothing or something. Jalyssa didn’t want to be there but now…felt like no other place was better fit for her. She knew then, being exclusive to someone who owns no title with you is foolish. The classic, “I’m not into titles” is just a game fools play on fools to keep them fools. Tanya and Sandra both held back tears. They too knew the same, “If he didn’t ask and I didn’t answer…then I am what I started to be…nothing.” Don’t you, dear reader, deserve to be more than nothing? Don’t fear asking the question because other women before you just took the long way around the question hoping the man’s actions will prove otherwise. With technology today, a man can make 20 women feel like “the only one.” Why not make sure you are? Just ask him to ask before you give the privileges or even after you’ve given them. Don’t you deserve it? If not, you’ll find out if he didn’t ask and you didn’t answer…why you are just as significant to him as you were…before you met him.
He stood there...motionless. His eyes were tunnel visioned. Waiting for his bride, Tanya to walk out. As the door slightly opened, a lonely tear walked down his face. This was the moment he knew would come but didn't know when. She is the woman of his dreams. They both earned each other now "I do" will seal the deal. It begins.
Everyone stands up. In a room filled with royal red and gold, each audience member wore gold, which matched the royal red chairs they sat in. There was a harpist with gold wings. The husband's father had lung cancer but prayed to God to be there. God answered and like God, He blessed him beyond measure. The father not only attended but also sung Cloud 9 as Tanya graced the aisles. Her ivory dress was out of a magazine. You could see her in Victoria secret as the only fully dressed woman gliding down the catwalk. It was just that beautiful. Now his lonely tear had company.
His groomsmen grinned as he continued to cry in silence. This isn't the man who cries. No no. He's the man who everyone looks up to. The brother you call when you need advice or help. Many thought tears feared him. Well, they know he is no longer immune. In his heart, he wanted to reach out and grab Tanya. Screaming, "I do" at the top of his lungs. When he blinked his eye, she was already in front of him. No need to grab. Her father already had given him Tanya's hand. Before he knew it, they were exchanging vows. Hers was funny. She joked about how she would never come between him and football or cheese cake. He topped her and agreed to watch Scandal with her. Even agreeing to debate her on the show, time to time. They laughed, the audience laughed and when they said "I do" everyone cried. A passionate prayer from grandfather topped the wedding. No one could cry anymore, as they all laid hands on the couple. Asking God to keep their marriage safe by surrounding them with grace. This was the most amazing wedding...anyone can dream of.
That's exactly what it was...a dream. Tanya woke up. The man she was killing...was her pillow cuffed to her face. She knew the video had set her faith walk back. She didn't understand why something like this would happen to her. Then she realized something...God didn't give up on her. She still deserves to be a wife. Her dream can become reality. Her mind is made up. On her knees she goes. She isn't giving up on God and nor is He giving up on making her dream...reality.
Tanya isn't the stereotype of a sinner; she's the prototype of a Christian. As a Christian, being flawed is natural. We are supposed to fail. How else will we realize our God is bigger than us? If we can succeed without humbling ourselves to Him, why would we need a God? If we are always able to overcome adversity just with our human ability, then we don't need a supernatural God. This is the reality of why we praise Him. God won't give up on you and your dreams, as you can't give up on Him. When it comes to you being a husband or wife, understand if you aren't, you can be but you can't surround yourself around people who aren't marriage material. If you are married, understand your prayer, faith and inner circle hold the keys to your success. Dream.
This is the link to my marriage video, hope you enjoy.
What Happened In The Elevator.
Sandra gave her number to Roberto on Monday…he called on Friday. They only communicate through text. The conversations aren’t much. The usual. “What’s your favorite positions?” “How do you like it?” “When can we meet up so I can hit it?” talk. She sends naked pictures. Even private videos. The first time they met up, was like every time they met up. Sex and neglect not only rhyme but are typically connected if lust comes before love.
He never called to begin with. It seems as if every text is a request. Shoes, clothes or helping to pay out a debt. All things she gives to get more of him. His only donation to her is sex, attention and abandonment. If she asks, “Why can’t we talk more?” the only response is, “I’m busy and I don’t like to talk.” (For a man with little to do, he sure does a lot.) She also remembers a quote, “A man makes time for what’s important to him. Everything else…isn’t on his schedule.” She asks the question, “Can we be more?”
Roberto’s response is traditional and funny. Here’s the traditional.
“I’m not ready for a relationship but you and I are cool. You’re the type of girl dudes wife up. I’m just not there. Let’s just stay friends.” That’s the traditional, the funny is that she’s uttered the SAME words (minus “wife”) to the father of her child, Drake. Drake has been there day after day taking care of their child, being the shoulder Sandra cries on when heart broken by another deadbeat man. Drake finds a way to make her smile when all of the world makes her cry. He’s her, “Friend.” That’s as far as she’ll allow him to go. No matter the fact her “friend” is exactly what she wants. No matter the fact when she complains about what another man doesn’t have…Drake actually has always had it and more. She’s in the “Friend zone” and now has company. Roberto isn’t releasing her any time soon and Sandra isn’t releasing Drake any time soon. They all will be captive in the infamous “Friend zone” until (A.) Sandra or Drake leave voluntarily (B.) Sandra and Roberto fall into relationships with partners who won’t permit them to have “people on the shelf.” A and B happen but not the way you expect.
Roberto, like many deadbeat men, gets locked up. His new girlfriend is jail. She writes him letters, he never responds. (If he barely texted, you think he would write?) She sends him money, he doesn’t say thank you. She saw “potential” in him but that was a lie. Many women who say, “I see potential” in a man, are liars. You didn’t see potential, you saw someone you wanted who didn’t have what you needed and just placed, “potential” in the conversation to make your equation work. It didn’t. She eventually realized what she already knew…he was nothing. Not only that, Roberto knew she was something but he wasn’t deserving of it. Meanwhile, Drake and Sandra were in the Bank elevator. She was depositing money for Roberto’s commissary and complaining to Drake about this being the last time she borrows money from him to help Roberto. This was the 5th time she’s uttered those words. Drake snaps… “Do you think I’m stupid? Well, I must be stupid. I’m not invisible. I’m literally everything you want, need and should have in a man and I’ve been your “friend” for too long. I’m tired of this. You date deadbeats like they’re in fashion. I’m stopping this right now. Part of this is my fault and I’ll admit my enabling kept you fed. It ends today! I will take care of my child and fight for sole custody. This baby can’t keep seeing man after man enter the house and hurt. She can’t grow up thinking all men are evil and her body is just a vessel for a man’s pleasure…like mommy does. I won’t allow it. Take it how you want to, but I’m through with you and being a friend to someone I would rather love. I deserve more.” His new girlfriend? His worth. She takes a breath and the elevator bell dings, he steps out first and she follows. No words are spoken between the two yet amazingly their silence speaks volumes. They both aren’t in the friend zone because they are no longer friends.
Oddly, the “friend zone” is where we put those who we aren’t ready for and don’t deserve us. Many times those who are placed there are everything we want but WE aren’t what or who we need to be. Placing good people in the friend zone is an act of growth. You’re saying to yourself, “I’m not good enough for your goodness and I’d rather have you near me than away.” It’s also a sign of your greed, selfishness and inability to realize you’re holding someone’s heart captive. Let them go. Give them the “talk.” Someone deserves their heart, even if you think “in the future” you will be that someone. Don’t ruin their lives or goodness by stealing their time. They deserve more and so do you. Today, let the slaves of your immaturity go. Ignore, delete or flat out tell them, “I’m not ready and leave.” Otherwise Karma may not stay in your friend zone…but put you in it.
Only Dates Black Women
“Sex is better than crack. Cocaine is better than sex. Alcohol makes sex better. Whatever I do, sex is part of the equation. Sex is the only thing that follows me. It’s the only thing that’s always been there. Sex doesn’t judge and is reliable. Whenever I need it, whenever I want it. Ugh...God where are you???! I’m confused. Why did you let this man hurt me? How could you abandon me in my moment of vulnerability? I need you now Lord!” Her mind ponders these thoughts. Jalyssa hasn’t been right since the “abortion.” As a matter of fact, she hasn’t been right since she ended her relationship with a married man. His raping of her and suicide were just icing on the cake. She needs something now that drugs and sex won’t bring. She found it…in a bottle.
Night after night she evades contact with Tanya and Sandra. Her phone stays off and when on, she sends everyone to voicemail. She could be dead and no one will know. That’s how she feels. Dead. Who would’ve known an abortion could do this? Who would have known being a mistress for so long would end up haunting you? No man is good enough, no sex is great enough. She’s trapped. Yet her release came in the most unbelievable of places…a liquor store.
Picking up her favorite bottles of Ciroc and Irish cream, she makes it her “duty” to flirt with the cashier. He always gives her free items with the lost hope of her eventually sleeping with him. This young Indian man should dream while standing because that’ll be the only circumstance he has sex with Jalyssa. As she dodges another request for her number, she bumps into this gentleman. 6’5”, two dimples, caramel chocolate skin and wearing a tailored slim fit suit. He apologizes, “Sorry, mam. Let me buy you another. Sir, ring up what she had. It’s on me.” His accent is different. Sounds British but Jamaican. Yet, he looks Indian. She jokingly asks, “Where are you from? Your voice sounds funny” His eyes light up. “I get this a million times a day. I’m from London. My dad is from Kingston Jamaica and my mum is from India. They moved to England when I was a baby. We visit Jamaica at least 5 times a year and my accent just never adapted to one place.” She smiles but then frowns when the wedding ring he’s wearing shines in her eye. Sharply she says, “Okay. Thanks for the liquor. Goodbye.” Catching her, “Are you Jalyssa?” He asks. She’s startled. “My wife, she’s been talking about you. Can you do me a favor? Would you allow me to pray with you? Right here?” He requests with a sincere look. She asks, “In the liquor store??” Grinning, He says, “God is everywhere.” A memory of how Pastor Baptiste used prayer to guilt her into oral sex flashed into her head. She refuses. His wife walks in.
She’s almost as tall as him. Her eyes are brown. Hair in a mini afro. Skin resembles the darkest shade of brown before it becomes black. A body that shames the word, “curves”. This is Africa walking. She asks, “Sweet heart, what’s taking you so long? The movie starts soon.” In Jalyssa’s mind, she ponders, “Men like him normally date White women.” Those words seep from mind to mouth. “You’re not with a White woman?” Her inner ignorance becomes public. She’s used to educated Black men thinking they’re too good for their own. Sadly, Jalyssa isn’t a product of her environment. She’s a product of her selective memory and experience. She’s witnessed Tanya consistently approached by Black men who look exactly the same. Not that Jalyssa doesn’t get her fair share (Selective memory). It’s just Tanya gets more. The wife responds, “My sister, brothers aren’t what society says they are. Love has no color. If I was purple or magenta, I would still be his wife. It’s love that connects us, not the color of our skin.” The husband chimes in, “Well…I only date Black women. If she can’t use my comb…then I can’t bring her home.” They all laugh then an offer is made. The wife speaks, “We know your story. Honestly, my first child was by rape. The rapist was my father. He’s dead now, I forgive him but the scars will never vanish. My husband and I are both therapists and ministers. Your spirit is damaged. I can see it in your eyes. I know this is difficult to ask but my spirit is asking, would you stay with us?” Jalyssa fights the immediate urge to say no but something internally brings her mouth to say, “I need help…yes.” She ponders, “God was listening.”
Just because what you’ve prayed for doesn’t come when you want it…doesn’t mean it isn’t coming. God is always on time. Even when we’re late. Sometimes we wait too long before prostrating ourselves on the floor and begging for His support. We’re ego filled people at times. Well, God has a cure for you…Him. One day, you will learn to give up and give in. Until then, you will always be a slave to the world. You have the choice. Let your burdens be His. “Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.”-Psalm 55:22. Don’t believe halfway. He has you.
50 shades of shade.
Blog Episode 16
Blindfolded. Hands cuffed behind her back. Penis in Jalyssa’s mouth. The chocolate syrup taste satisfies her taste buds. She fights her gag reflex. Standing in front while she’s on her knees, he massages her nipples then slaps her butt. This is beyond pain and pleasure. Jalyssa is swallowing all the juices his body owns. Never has a fantasy sucked the reality out of you. Her sexual gladiator is 6 foot tall with eleven long inches. He wants her to cum first. She’s on her third…he just doesn’t know. His next move…is his best move.
Effortlessly picking up his sex slave, he throws her on the bed. With legs and feet dangling off the edge, he grabs each butt cheek with his huge hands. Determined to make her scream each climax, his penis digs inside of her. Whatever walls she’s had before, they don’t exist anymore. There is no caution for safety, he’s digging. If there were gold, his penis would have found it. She yells, “It feels so good!” then “Give it to me, daddy!” No permission was needed…
Now on her side, obeying his instructions, he begins the sideways pile driver. Gripping her waist, he gets every inch into her. Each long slow stroke brings her out of a fantasy and into reality. This man is relentless in pleasing her. She yelps. He smirks. The G-spot is found and he knows it. Wildly, he speeds up. Imprints of his fingers are left on her buttocks. She finally, with eyes rolling back, screams, “I’m coming!” Without missing a beat, he puts his penis in her mouth and a vibrator in her vagina. They cum together. She’s left drinking each kid out of him and he smiles at his work. To put on the finishing touches, he dances and caresses his tongue around her clitoris until she begs him to…stop. Don’t call this love, this is lust. What she wants and believes she needs. Collapsed on the bed. She feels paralyzed. The only image seen before her sleep is him getting dressed. With pants and shirt on, he leaves…forever.
For weeks she calls, he doesn’t answer. Texts aren’t returned. He blocks her off Facebook. Stops following her on Twitter. What was reality now seems fiction. This man is now ghost. She’s broken. Confused. Can’t understand why he left. He was sweet. They met; he seemed to be everything she dreamed of. A smart, attractive, career man who knows what he wants. A leader. What he represented was what she deserved to see. Yet, he didn’t earn her body. How can you in only three days? Sex came. Then he left. Two months later she sees him in the mall. On her way to confront, he notices her and smiles. Then turns his back to her. It was as if he said…in just one smile, “You know what this is.” She did…a one-night stand.
We get what we accept. Sadly, we act as if discounting our worth will ever be “right.” It’s never “right.” You are not on sale. You are not charity. You are not worthy of being someone’s, “Who I had sex with but didn’t earn.” Your value cannot be negotiated. No matter what I write, the choice of being a one-night stand is all yours to make. If you don’t think you deserve more. If you don’t think you should be earned. If you don’t think any of this…then who will? Choice.
“Miscarriage or Abortion”
Six months after being raped...she sits alone. Friends crowd around her but...she sits alone. Reporters still camp outside her home but she…she sits alone. Everyone is talking to her. Giving condolences. Asking questions. Attempting to soothe her mind for the war she has to endure. No words are heard. Only one dehumanizing thought plagues her mind. She’s pregnant with a dead man’s baby and she doesn’t want the baby to live.
No one knows her plans of self inflicted abortion. You see, she’s too famous to visit a clinic. They would easily recognize the rape victim of the most famous pastor in Atlanta. Her name is more popular than any House Wife you can ponder. No matter the fact, she loses sleep thinking about being a mother. A mother to a child that is only a reminder of her poor decision-making. She never wanted to be a single mother. She refuses to add another name to that tradition. Especially knowing if the baby looks like the pastor, not only will he haunt her…but the child will live knowing their father was a murderer and rapist. If Jalyssa doesn’t tell them…the world will. This baby will die. Her mind is set. The only thing that’s slowing her down…is the how.
Tanya and Sandra are two of the voices she doesn’t hear. A baby shower was thrown only to have Jalyssa not attend. Their calls aren’t returned. Even when Tanya was told she might have breast cancer, Jalyssa didn’t bother to pray or visit the hospital. Something which is beyond odd given Jalyssa had her own scare once before and was adamant about the women having regular mammograms. Sandra is dealing with her own baby issues. She fights the idea of having a good man but relishes in continuously indulging in men who only have…good moments. Jalyssa would be the one to slap her back into reality. Not this time. No matter the drama surrounding Jalyssa, she’s a woman on a mission.
Back in the old days…, which really aren’t that old, women used coat hangers to abort babies. Many of these procedures were botched. Many women hurt or permanently scarred themselves courtesy of inaccuracy. Many babies lived with a mother who didn’t want them there…and tried to kill them. She was about to become one of those mothers. Standing at the top of her stairs with a coat hanger in hand and confusion in mind, she started to dig. Digging forcefully to ensure this baby won’t make it. The pain grew. Her screams scared nightmares out of nearby children. She accidentally slipped on the blood and fell down two flights of stairs. Jalyssa escaped with a broken leg and…coat hanger embedded in her belly. The baby is no more but that doesn’t mean the baby is done with her.
Abortion isn’t an ending to a woman’s sorrows. As statistics and history tells it, abortion isn’t over because the baby is dead. You have to live with that mental scar. The reminder of your decision. The act you will forever own. When or if you are ever challenged to make that decision, remember this…you could have been that baby. You make the choice.
Drunk In Love: Raped Sober
No one is moving. He holds the gun steady. She stares into his eyes. Everyone is waiting. Why is he hesitating? What is holding him back from pulling the trigger? Does he really hate Jalyssa or is he coming to terms with his own irresponsibility? Whatever the reason, it seems Silence must be paying the mortgage and is forcing every to mimic him. However, something unexpected just evicted Silence.
There is a knock on the door. “This is the police. Is anyone hurt?” Now Pastor Baptiste is shook. He tells Jalyssa, “Don’t say anything! Wait…tell them you’re okay!” She yells, “He’s in here with a gun! Please help!” Frantic and confused he says, “WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU DISOBEY ME??! I should kill you!” Jalyssa says, “Why don’t you? Isn’t that why you’re here? You want to kill me? Your “bitch.” Do it. Do it!” He is startled. The dreamlike high of the drugs is wearing off and he’s living in reality. The police invade the house through the damaged garage. They make their way up the stairs. They yell, “We’re coming up.” Jalyssa prepares them, “He has a gun!” Now Pastor Baptiste has little options left. He knows killing Jalyssa won’t happen. He knows a shoot out with the police isn’t happening. He knows what he has to do…
Gun pressed against his temple, he tells the police, “I’ll do it. I promise I will. I’ll leave this earth as the way I came.” He begins to strip naked. The police only watch in confusion. The negotiator attempts to encourage him from any rash decisions. Bare-naked, Pastor Baptiste finishes his words, “I came out of my mothers womb a naked sinner and I’m going to die a naked sinner.” The negotiator realizes his chances of changing Pastor Baptiste’s mind are slim. He asks for Jalyssa and the Pastor replies, “You can take her....” As Jalyssa leaves the room towards the arms of police, Pastor Baptiste says, “Can I pray with you once more?” His eyes were as sincere as a new born. It was as if he was saying “goodbye” in just that one sentence. She agreed and without a second thought, backed away from the police. She was still a slave to him. Now she is heading to their “Pray place” or as we call it, “bathroom.” Pastor Baptiste kept the gun to his head and walked to the bathroom with her. As he followed her, the negotiator kept attempting to discourage her actions. The Pastor passed by and notices an old fun tool of theirs, handcuffs. She notices them too, smiles. He grabs them, grabs her and closes the bathroom door.
It’s too late for the police. They won’t risk breaking through the door and him killing her or one of the police accidentally shooting a hostage. Inside, he spins her around, locks her hands behind her back, places the cuffs on her, pulls down her pajamas and rips his pants off then begins the most forceful and ferocious thrusts imaginable. As the blood drips down her legs, her screams are heard throughout the house. Still, the negotiator can only talk. The Pastor tells her, “I know you’re fertile today. See, I remember EVERYTHING about you. There will be some of me inside you for the rest of your life. You will always remember what you did to me.” At that very moment, he cums and pulls the trigger. As Richard Pryor would tell it..."He came and went at the same time." The police burst through the door to see Pastor Baptiste dead. Curled up with her hands behind her back, tears won’t even leave her eyes. She’s lost for words. This moment. His words. Jalyssa will never be the same again.
This ending may seem extreme but please remember reality…is even more real. There are many women who die at the hands of past lovers. A mistress is nothing more than a man’s sexual fantasy he lives daily. Nothing more. When that fantasy causes any form of destruction in his reality, he reacts. Either the wife or husband kills countless mistresses. This isn’t anything new. The most important statistic is this…you have a choice in what you will be. If I were you…I would choose wife.
Called Her Bitch For The First Time
His son stares blankly into the barrel of the .45. Hiding prayers in his broken heart amiss the pool of blood his mother is drowning in. No sound is louder than the silence clouding the room. The beating heart of a rat can burst the eardrums of everyone in attendance. It is just that quiet. Pastor Baptiste is too high, angry and filled with hate to not consider ending the innocence of his children. Time slows down. Every breath takes seconds to occur. The moment is near. The very lives of these children change in less than an eye blink. He pulls the trigger. No one reacts. Only a click is heard…No shot. He remembers what he forgot. Since he bought the gun…he only loaded one bullet and never made time to load the rest. God answered the desperate prayer of a child.
Simultaneously the Pastor vomits on himself while running to his truck. Only destination on his cocaine-loaded mind was a familiar one…Jalyssa’s house. He’s driving in the dead of night. No cars are on the road, yet he manages to run into a few parked ones. His sturdy Ford F-150 pick-up truck is able to take the damage and keep trucking. Tears and cuss words would seem to fit as a song title for his current phase. The God fearing pastor we’ve come to know is no more. This brother is now a man of revenge, regret and irresponsibility. He instantly blames his entire downfall on Jalyssa. Uttering, “It had to be her. When I began that affair as revenge, I gave way to more devils. Of course it is her fault. Who else could be to blame for my actions?” Sarcasm much like common sense evades him.
Judgment completely off, he crashes into Jalyssa’s garage. Airbag deployment knocks him out. The BOOM is heard around the typically quiet neighborhood. Police are called. Jalyssa, the amazingly heavy sleeper, hears none of the nonsense beneath her. Pastor Baptiste wakes up. Grabs the bullets out of his glove compartment. Refusing to make the same mistake twice. Climbs out of his wrecked pick up truck. Kisses the hood. He knows it’s been good to him and he will never drive it again. Opens the door inside the garage that leads to Jalyssa’s kitchen. Now marching up the stairs, he stumbles down courtesy of the alcohol stealing his balance. Still sleeping, she hears none of the racket he makes walking up the stairs. He drops some of the bullets as he makes way to her room. Fumbling, he finds a way to get all six rounds into the gun. Oddly, the familiar words “Daddys home” wake her up. She’s startled. Now she too stares blankly into the barrel of a .45.
“Bitch, you…you…you are the devil. I and...I’m coming to get my life back. The life you stole the moment you opened hell’s gate. You ruined my life! Now, I take it back. All of it.” She would plead for her life…but doesn’t bother to. The greatest hurt she could ever imagine came. He called her a “bitch.” Never did she expect the man her heart gave so much to…to spew such filth. Heart broken, she knew the pain of his words would outweigh any suffering she would endure from a bullet. He continues, “You don’t got nothing to say? Cat got your tongue, Jezebel? Now it is your turn to feel the emptiness of God no longer speaking to you. The despair accom…accompanied by His abandonment. Say something!” She obliges, “I loved you. I wanted more from you. Being your “other woman” was me settling. I was sick. Your love was my temporary drug. I thought it would be a cure. It was just a treatment. I needed to find my own way. My own husband. My own family. When I left you, I left the one version of me God loved by default. Now I’m worth loving entirely. I forgave myself for my disobedience and asked God to as well. You can take my life. I know where I’m going. Death isn’t a fear of mine.” She closes her eyes. His eyes turn red. She takes a deep breath. He cocks back the gun hammer. She says a prayer. He aims at her head. She says, "Amen." He…
When God blessed you to see 18, He also gave you a title, "Adult". You now are completely in charge of your actions. Coincidently, you are now the total recipient of the blame. It is funny how saying, “I’m wrong” takes courage. We live in a world where being a responsible adult is about as desirable as being a hundredaire. Until time travel is possible, growing up is unavoidable. However, it seems many of us dodge becoming…grown. Do yourself a favor, own up to the decisions you make. You live with them. No matter who they involve. When you do so, you give yourself a gift. What is that? The gift of adulthood.
The End of Pastor Baptiste
Blog series 12
“Who’s this baby from this time?” He asks with a sarcastic grin. She doesn’t respond. There is nothing she can say, do or think to avoid the end. Fed up isn’t what he is. Broken is past tense. Shattered beyond repair fits the description best. Pastor Baptiste sits on his bed, eyes filled with lonely tears. His wife stands in the corner, awaiting the decision.
Laughter fills the room. This unexpected sound frightens her. It goes from awkward to angry. His tone becomes unsettling. A thickness of fear blanketed the room. “Get out you devil. You’re the freaking devil. That’s what you are. Get out of my house SATAN!” Wanting to salvage the romance, she used the children as leverage. “What…how will our children live happily if we’re divorced? Don’t do this. Let’s figure out a way. I’m sorry.” Her words cut him. Herpes, losing Jalyssa and being exposed by Tanya, he had already lost the “it” he owned. With the new addition of cocaine to his diet, things weren’t getting better. He runs into the bathroom. The story changes.
You can hear the aggressive snorts, the loud crying and the apology to God miles from outside the bathroom. He was readying himself. Mrs. Baptiste calls for the children. They all enter the room. As a comfort/guilt shield, she hoped the image of them would inspire a second…fifth chance. As he walked out of the bathroom his glazed eyes, unsteady posture and alcohol stained breath clouded the attention of the room. The words, “I’m sorry” were consistently mumbled out of his drunken mouth and the cocaine influenced a move pastors don’t make.
Door locks. The family stares silently. Dresser drawer opens. His hand lurks into the drawer. He asks her… “Why me? I provide. I take care of the children. I’m the man you prayed for. Why me?” Reluctantly yet instinctively she responds, “Maybe you’re the man I prayed for but maybe I’m not the woman you prayed for.” She continues, “I never deserved a man like you. Men like you…they deserve love. Happiness. I’ve been trouble since you knew me. You tried to save me. I told you…I told you I wasn’t ready for you. That didn’t stop you. This marriage was your idea. I wanted time to learn me. These children. They weren’t my decision. I’m rebelling. That’s the only answer to this. I love you but we have to seek counseling or I go away for a while. Maybe to a place where I can get all this…badness out of me. I don’t know. I just need time to get my act together. I’m sorry I ruined you. I just don’t know what else to say.” His hand slowly pulls up a ball of socks. He unrolls them to reveal a .45. The children and wife are so frightened, they don’t even scream. No prayers are said. Everyone is waiting for the Pastor Baptiste to move. The barrel of the .45 finds its way to Mrs. Baptiste’s chest. A slight move to the left of her chest. With his target locked, he pulls the trigger. One shot…through the heart.
The children are too afraid to cry. The tears escape down their nose as they stare at their unanimated mothers body. He points the .45 in the children’s direction. The story isn’t fun anymore.
If you pray for something, wait until God finishes the product before you invest in it. Many times we’re in such a rush to love the shiny new person who makes us smile, we forget to be earned by them. When someone is learning who they are, don’t waste time trying to love them as is. Love them as who they become when they’re done growing. Otherwise when they are done…you may not be what they love.
Being Separated Isn’t Divorced.
Blog series 11
“Choke me daddy!” he obliges. They roll, sweat and wrestle until there are no pillows or sheets left on the bed. Now the room is their canvas. Now their bodies are their paintbrushes. Now chairs, doors and dressers are innocent casualties of their lust. He’s giving it and she’s taking it. What started as a moment of prayer took them for an unholy ride. He had his sights on her since the, “Love Is Not An STD” workshop. She knew something was special about him. From their knees to their backs, they are feeling what’s special about each other. Tanya is sleeping with Pastor Baptiste.
She gave up her life as a prostitute as sought refuge in a nearby mega church. Once she noticed the pastor, she made it her duty to create a relationship. Her hope was sincere. Aiming to find a spiritual father who would teach her how to Be Loved Right. Giving way to an understanding of Christ. She was invited over for Holy Bible study. Enjoyed many days and nights learning about God’s love. Then she fell.
He was consistent. His constant complaints about his wife and how much he hates her. His constant indirect statements about where he would be if he weren’t stuck with these children. His constant reminding of needing a supportive, loving and dedicated woman on his side. All kept her trapped in a ball of “what if’s” He was good at inspiring confusion. She felt sorry for him. She consoled him in his weakness. She began to feel his vulnerability. Lost as to how loving him would work…she tried using the only power she thought she had. Trying to rescue a broken man using vagina is a failed plan before execution. Tanya tried anyway. Day after day giving her body to him as a token for his healing. He would tell tales of being separated but little did he know, it didn’t matter to Tanya.
She just enjoyed having a stable partner. It fed her desire to be desired and without money exchanged, she didn’t own the pain of being a prostitute. She was guilt free. Unlike Jalyssa, Tanya knows the game. After months of sex, she suddenly stopped seeing him. She never delivered an “I love you” to him, as he’s often said to her. She never trusted him so his, “Let’s do it raw” requests we always denied. She never wanted more than an exclusive sex partner and by his slipping of calling her by another name, she knew he wasn’t that. Never did she expect to be his future wife. Nor did she care to be.
She left him with a simple text. “Go home to your wife and kids. Be a husband and father.” Leaving the pastor didn’t mean Tanya give up on God. She knew her progress wouldn’t be forgotten because of her sexual regression. On her bed, she prays, “Celibacy until You find a husband for me.” A jovial smile breaks through her prayer. The challenge is set. The challenge is sex. Will she keep her promise or press reset?
How To Turn A Good Woman Bad.
Blog series 10
“Bitch, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. Think I’m stupid. You’re cheating on me, huh? Think I won’t kill you? I would! Let me find out you’ve been with another dude. I’ll murder him in front of you then murder you. Do you hear me?!” Sandra stares at Ricardo. His words have lost their venom. She’s now immune to his threats. She doesn’t even flinch at his feints. She’s as calm as a sea breeze. This silent protest of confidence is irking and confusing Ricardo.
She replies, “Please kill me. I’ve killed too many babies to keep a love you’ve never given me. I’m the murderer. Can’t I teach you how to kill? I don’t deserve to live. Not now, not with what I’ve done. If you want to help me see God faster, I suggest you do it and do it fast. Your threats aren’t worth much.” Enraged and embarrassed, he slaps her. Bloods seeps out of her top lip and a smirk slips out. “Is that it?” She says. Now he’s confused and backs away. It’s been seven months since he’s seen Sandra. Choosing to bunk with Jalyssa instead of Ricardo. Her attendance was too abrupt. He was unprepared for her arrival. One of his other women was still sleep in