It has been a while since I have been out here unpacking my shit for anyone to read. I have totally regretted not blogging because in a way it was kinda therapeutic. I started telling my tales to the universe many years ago because it was too much in my brain at the time. I was going thru bankruptcy and extreme brokenness, and I was sadder than I had ever really been in my life. I started the blog to help me get thru some thangs. Back then had time to write because my life was a bit slower, mainly because I had this brainless job where I could blog during the day. Then after I got this new career and a long-term boyfriend, I took an unexpected hiatus from the blog. I really wanted to get back to writing but I just couldn't pull it off. I was just managing too much. It was like I had a child when I got into this relationship, and apparently, I am not good with grown ass kids. It also seems that I don't have the ability to be a good girlfriend.
So now I am back. Mainly because today was so freaking epic and
shitty, that I had to sit down and unload this weight. Today is my own Juneteenth, as it marks the beginning of MY
NEW NORMAL. My seven-year relationship
is dead, and I have a mix of feelings about it.
I am sad, relieved, insulted, and disappointed....all at the same
time. So instead of cutting off my hair (yet), I am contemplating changing the name of this blog to mark a new beginning. I was thinking of changing the name to the Diary of a Confused Woman, or to
the Diary of a Fucked-Up Woman. Then I said to myself, maybe I
am still a Broke-Ass Woman, except now it's not related to money. It's related to a lack of morals, respect for
others, and me being a weenie punk for allowing people to do the shyt they do to me.
When all of these traits intersect, the end result is an epic mess. The culmination of it all happened tonight when my boyfriend told me to get the fuck out of his apartment. Even though I was starting to head to the door anyway, he wanted to be in control by sprinkling some disrespect on my exit. He hollered GTFO as he slammed the door behind me. HARD.
Seven years. Done. Just like that.
As I drove back to my apartment, I kept the radio off and rolled up the windows to keep the din of the NYC evening out. I only heard the tires hitting the uneven streets as I silently blamed myself for the deterioration of my relationship. Mister and I have had many arguments, but today I know was THE END. I was so certain about it that I even blocked his number. When a man tells you to get the fuck out, that means to get the fuck out of his life too. At least for me anyway. You get one time to talk to me like that. ONE.
I will admit though that a majority of why his head is fucked up is my fault. Even though I was falsely accused today, I do know that I had a big hand in his insecurity and paranoia. It is too much to write in one post, and I have to unload this in succinct parts so that I don't go all over the place. Today's post is part one of me rewinding the tape on my days as a so-called "girlfriend". After I do this then maybe I will have more clarity on understanding why I got this treatment tonight.
When all of these traits intersect, the end result is an epic mess. The culmination of it all happened tonight when my boyfriend told me to get the fuck out of his apartment. Even though I was starting to head to the door anyway, he wanted to be in control by sprinkling some disrespect on my exit. He hollered GTFO as he slammed the door behind me. HARD.
Seven years. Done. Just like that.
As I drove back to my apartment, I kept the radio off and rolled up the windows to keep the din of the NYC evening out. I only heard the tires hitting the uneven streets as I silently blamed myself for the deterioration of my relationship. Mister and I have had many arguments, but today I know was THE END. I was so certain about it that I even blocked his number. When a man tells you to get the fuck out, that means to get the fuck out of his life too. At least for me anyway. You get one time to talk to me like that. ONE.
I will admit though that a majority of why his head is fucked up is my fault. Even though I was falsely accused today, I do know that I had a big hand in his insecurity and paranoia. It is too much to write in one post, and I have to unload this in succinct parts so that I don't go all over the place. Today's post is part one of me rewinding the tape on my days as a so-called "girlfriend". After I do this then maybe I will have more clarity on understanding why I got this treatment tonight.
But first lemme say
this, I didn't DO ANYTHING that he could prove.
In fact, I have never been CAUGHT doing anything. Yet I was accused of side activities because
he saw some dirt on my dress? I kid you not.
"You're lying!" he hollered, "You went somewhere else."
Then he asked to see my phone. I refused. Why? Because although I ain't dealing with nobody on a relationship or emotional tip, I do have some male friends that I may say hello to here or there. Not like a "Hello Mr. Penis..." kind of hello, but a hello like "What's up homey? How is life?" These dudes don't even live in the state or anywhere near me, but these are people that I knew wayyyyy before Mister. I keep telling Mister that ain't nobody checking for me like that no mo', but yet we keep having these same conversations about me and other dudes!!??? I am no longer a PYT, don't you see??? So at my age do you really expect me to stop talking to people I knew BEFORE you became my man? I'm sorry but I think that is ridiculous. Maybe some don't think this way, but I do.
"You're lying!" he hollered, "You went somewhere else."
Then he asked to see my phone. I refused. Why? Because although I ain't dealing with nobody on a relationship or emotional tip, I do have some male friends that I may say hello to here or there. Not like a "Hello Mr. Penis..." kind of hello, but a hello like "What's up homey? How is life?" These dudes don't even live in the state or anywhere near me, but these are people that I knew wayyyyy before Mister. I keep telling Mister that ain't nobody checking for me like that no mo', but yet we keep having these same conversations about me and other dudes!!??? I am no longer a PYT, don't you see??? So at my age do you really expect me to stop talking to people I knew BEFORE you became my man? I'm sorry but I think that is ridiculous. Maybe some don't think this way, but I do.
Let's start with
today. Today is Father's Day and I
bought some tickets to take Mister to see a comedy show. The plans got ruined because, on the way to
the show, I realized that the tickets were for LAST NIGHT and not TONIGHT. So I lost $200. Of course I was bummed about it,
but what was interesting is that Mister never said sorry or tried to console
me. I know he was disappointed too, and
he stayed stoic and annoyed. I mean what
could I say? I screwed up. If the scene was flipped I would have been
more supportive though. I would have probably
given him half of the money back too (typical punk shyt that I do).
Plan B was to get something to eat, but there were so many people out in Brooklyn today and we couldn't find a parking spot. Eventually, I said let's just pick something up to eat and go back to his place. As we got out of the car to go into the restaurant, Mister noticed some stains on my light gray dress. I don't have a period anymore after my surgery, so I know it wasn't THAT. I was surprised myself but tried to play it cool so that everyone wouldn't start staring. I told him that the dress was a little wet when I got in the car, so maybe it picked up the dirt from the car seat. I mean no woman wants to hear that they have a stain on their dress, but I couldn't understand why he was interrogating me about it. Instead, he just keeps asking, "Well how did the dirt get on your dress?" Over and over and over. I asked myself, "Does he think I shit on myself or what? What the hell is going on?" I asked him for his shirt to tie around me, and he acted like he didn't want to give it to me at first. After some back and forth, he eventually gave me the shirt and I walked back to his place. I washed out the stain but decided to leave instead of eating the food. First, you give me no sympathy because I lost $200, and now you interrogate me in the middle of the street about a stain on my dress? Nah. That was it for me. When he came back to the apartment with the food the argument started. He told me I was lying about how I got the stain. As he yelled about his crazy theory about the dirt on the dress, I knew our situation was hopeless. The look in his eyes was frantic and crazed. I told him he was wrong and I went thru every minute of my day with him. Then he said that he would apologize if I let him see my phone.
I calmly said no because I already knew it would have made zero difference. I said no because ANY dude I speak to will be a problem for him. Family friends. High school friends. Especially this ex-boyfriend I have that now lives in Mexico for good. I knew him long before Mister and he is my friend. He is a non-muthafuccin' factor, and I have told Mister that REPEATEDLY for the past seven years. But yet, he still brings him up.
Plan B was to get something to eat, but there were so many people out in Brooklyn today and we couldn't find a parking spot. Eventually, I said let's just pick something up to eat and go back to his place. As we got out of the car to go into the restaurant, Mister noticed some stains on my light gray dress. I don't have a period anymore after my surgery, so I know it wasn't THAT. I was surprised myself but tried to play it cool so that everyone wouldn't start staring. I told him that the dress was a little wet when I got in the car, so maybe it picked up the dirt from the car seat. I mean no woman wants to hear that they have a stain on their dress, but I couldn't understand why he was interrogating me about it. Instead, he just keeps asking, "Well how did the dirt get on your dress?" Over and over and over. I asked myself, "Does he think I shit on myself or what? What the hell is going on?" I asked him for his shirt to tie around me, and he acted like he didn't want to give it to me at first. After some back and forth, he eventually gave me the shirt and I walked back to his place. I washed out the stain but decided to leave instead of eating the food. First, you give me no sympathy because I lost $200, and now you interrogate me in the middle of the street about a stain on my dress? Nah. That was it for me. When he came back to the apartment with the food the argument started. He told me I was lying about how I got the stain. As he yelled about his crazy theory about the dirt on the dress, I knew our situation was hopeless. The look in his eyes was frantic and crazed. I told him he was wrong and I went thru every minute of my day with him. Then he said that he would apologize if I let him see my phone.
I calmly said no because I already knew it would have made zero difference. I said no because ANY dude I speak to will be a problem for him. Family friends. High school friends. Especially this ex-boyfriend I have that now lives in Mexico for good. I knew him long before Mister and he is my friend. He is a non-muthafuccin' factor, and I have told Mister that REPEATEDLY for the past seven years. But yet, he still brings him up.
Again I have never been caught messing with any other dude. It's all about this phone shit. He gets mad if I am on Facebook. He gets mad if I don't post pics of him on Facebook. He gets mad if I don't call him right out of work and tell him I am going to meet friends. Even today, I made a plan to see some friends for brunch and he got mad at that. Why? Because it is Father's Day and I was supposed to make the day about him and me? What the hell? You got a 19-year old daughter and that kind of complaint you should be taking up with her. My dad ain't even alive to take anywhere. Who says I have to treat you to a Father's Day anything? Just ridiculous. I always felt that he would show his ass if we ever broke up, and today he proved me right.
Maybe I made him
crazy? I am too independent and no man
will ever be my sun, moon, stars, and quasars.
I told him long ago he needed someone who wants a man to be her purpose
in life. I ain’t never been that kinda
chick. I also said I ain’t interested in
fkn dudes like that anymore. STRAIGHT UP. I am good without dyck lately. In fact, my $13
dollar Calexics bullet does me just fine.
It don’t sweat on you, pound on you like a gorilla, and I ain’t gotta try to go pee foreign fluids out after it’s done and over.
Anyway man. Like I said,
today marked the beginning of my new normal. And I got a LOT of unpacking to do. Seven years was a long time.
As for the new blog name? I think I got it now. How does "Diary of a So-Called Girlfriend" sound?
Yeah…I think that might be a winner.
Yeah…I think that might be a winner.
