In A Perfect World

Red Shoes – Chapter 6: Emergency 9-1-1

2010-12-14T12:59:00.000-08:00

I recently attended a Ledisi concert where I was comforted to know that someone who has become so successful would share a part of her life with which I could most identify. She said, “Be careful who you let into your circle; everybody doesn’t need to be that close to you.” She also talked about how she had almost lost hope when she found herself sleeping on a floor. This story of the Red Shoes is my “sleeping on the floor” moment. Ledisi’s advice is sound; be careful who you let into your circle.

From the time I had met Goldie until now, our friendship quickly turned into a relationship and then a partnership, however unequal it may have been. He was living with me, and he was the influence that broke me down enough to lose myself. I don’t blame him, because I am responsible for my own ignorance and my own actions—I take full ownership of my weakness. However, people like him make no apologies for being who they are, and they blame their circumstances for not doing better in or wanting more from life. These are the bottom feeders, the people you don’t want in your circle.

These bottom feeders prey on opportunity of any kind. If you look like you have money, then they are going to try to find a way to get some of it. The best way to keep someone distracted while you suck them dry is to keep them high. That high doesn’t have to come from a drug. It comes from anything that you allow to have influence over you. Do you have an affinity for sex? Then they will keep having sex with you so they can stay in your space. Maybe your drug is love. Then they will do what it takes to make you think they love you, so they can keep you around. It could be your love for Adonis-type young men, your need to have someone you feel like you can control; whatever need you have that is not being fulfilled. It’s called a hustle, and bottom feeders perfect the art.

Goldie had certainly perfected his hustle. I saw him in action on many occasions. There were men that he could call, and they would drive over to the house just to hand him $20. These were people he had been “working” for years. According to him, he never had sex with any of them. He most certainly would not have been while we were together, so I did actually believe him. He would befriend these older men, and just spend time with them. He would let them take him out to dinner, buy him clothes, and keep them company. He did all this so that when he had a need, he could just call them and make them feel like they were helping out a friend. Twenty dollars here and there to them was probably nothing. Although, I’m sure they had no clue how many men were bringing him money. I don’t know how many times I heard him on the phone telling some man, “Yeah, I’m still looking for a job, but I need to get my haircut…” An hour later, they would pull up; he would walk out, and walk right back in with cash in hand.

Early in our relationship, I found out about how he made his money. I knew about his hustling, but I told him that he needed to stop that and get a job. That kind of activity was so beneath me and what I stood for. He complied for a while, but I really think that he had not worked a real job in so long that he couldn’t keep one if he wanted to. He was used to the fast nightlife of money, sex, drugs, and alcohol. By this time, he had become a part-time waiter, part-time stripper, part-time-hustler, part-time boyfriend, and full-time coke head.

Weed and cocaine were always somewhere in the house (usually in his caché in the guest room). I was unemployed to the extent that the business that I was doing was not bringing in a paycheck. Goldie was semi-employed, working part-time as a waiter at IHOP. 2006 had rolled around and Goldie had returned to stripping, but the little money he did make from that went straight up his nose. I was in such a bind financially, because what was left of my unemployment was keeping on the electricity, gas, water, and cable. The small money Goldie brought in was enough to buy groceries and keep gas in the car. I had missed a couple mortgage payments and a few car payments also.

I was still trying to build upon my business, which had come so far, given all the setbacks that I had throughout the past six months. It seemed like every time I got close to getting a huge payout, deadlines would get pushed back or project dates would be rescheduled. A larger company would probably be able to deal with these things much easier, but for an independent team of one, weeks, no, days matter. I was broke, stressed, and depressed. During this time, I had become very reclusive. I didn’t have money to spare, and I couldn’t live the flamboyant lifestyle I had become accustomed to before this story began. I was struggling to keep my basic necessities like food and water.

I really felt like my life was an embarrassment. I didn’t want to feel like a failure or a quitter, but I was struggling to hold on to everything: my business, my house, my car, my sanity. I didn’t want to turn to my family or what friends I had left, because I didn’t want the criticism. At the same time, the little help that I did have came from people who were used to living off scraps that fell to the bottom. Who were these people? How did I end up living with and surrounding myself with people I had known less than a year?

June had cunningly moved herself into my home. For Goldie, this was great, because he supplied the cocaine, and she supplied the weed. It wasn’t until I met June that I understood what a weed head really is. When she woke up in the morning, she brushed her teeth and then smoked a blunt before she got dressed for work. She smoked a blunt on her way to work, and then she smoked again on her lunch break. June smoked a blunt on her way home from work, and then when she got home, she would say, “Hey, you wanna smoke?” and I would smoke with her in the evening. On top of her (well our) habit, Goldie was still having his friends over to do lines in the living room.

Good Morning, this is your wake up call…

By now, I’m sure anyone who is following along with any sense would say I could not have been too focused on running a business with all this foolishness and these distractions around. The truth is that although I was working very hard during the day, I was not as focused as I should have been, and this is probably the underlying reason as to why things were not going as smoothly as they could have. Many of the setbacks probably would still have happened, because they were beyond my control. However, the way in which one rebounds from a setback is totally under your control, and I was doing a terrible job with the rebounds.

One day, the mailman rang the doorbell with a certified letter for which I had to sign. I was curious about the letter, because I thought perhaps a breakthrough had finally come for one of my projects. To my surprise, it was an absolute breakthrough. It was a moment for some sense to breakthrough and hit me in the head. The mailman delivered a letter from my mortgage company notifying me that in 15 days, they would be initiating foreclosure proceedings for my residence.

When I read the letter, I was home alone, and I never felt more alone than at that time. It was the middle of the afternoon, and most people were at work. The neighborhood was quiet, all the children were at school, and life seemed to be normal for everyone except me. I looked around and could see Goldie’s shoes in the middle of the living room floor, marijuana sticks on the coffee table, a mirror that had not been put away, dishes in the sink, and the house reeked of weed and cigarette smoke. My eyes welled with tears, and I just screamed “FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!” This was my initial wake-up call that I was so far off track and needed to pull it together. I had been able to go so far shuffling bills around, but now, it was a matter of survival.

With all the strength in me, I had to make a plan. If you ever want to make a major change in your life, start with your home. Your home is a direct reflection of yourself and what is going on in your life. The first thing I did was get my broom and started sweeping. I had to sweep away all the bad energy, bad feelings, and bad people out of my life. I swept the carpets, baseboards, and every lower surface of the house. Then I started scrubbing. I scrubbed everything, washed all the clothes, folded them, cleaned the kitchen, and made up all the beds. By the time Goldie and June came home, the house was spotless.

I’m sure one could imagine the look of surprise on their faces at this change, but this was not the biggest surprise for them. When they got there, I sat them both down and told them about the letter, and that I needed to start putting some money together to catch up on the mortgage. I told them that I would no longer allow cocaine in my house, no more late night parties, and I had relegated smoking of any kind to the garage. I told them that I had spent the entire day cleaning the house and clearing my mind, and I wanted it to stay that way. From that moment forward, if you were going to live in my house, you had to contribute or get out.

June was willing to comply immediately. She told me that she understood, and she would be willing to help out however she could. Later that evening, she gave me $200 to help me get started on the mortgage. Goldie, on the other hand, went ballistic.

He started in on me, “So are you telling me I can’t have any of my friends over? I live here too, you know. What the fuck? I don’t even see how you can say we have to contribute when you don’t contribute shit. So you mean, you're going to tell all your friends to stop coming over here too, since you ain't paying any bills? Why don’t you go get a job, since you’re supposed to be so fucking smart? I don’t understand how someone with all your skills can just sit around all day and not get paid.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I just told him that I needed to scramble to make some ends meet, and he’s complaining about having to contribute to keep a roof not only over my head but over his head too. Instantly, he went into his selfish mode of not taking any responsibility and assigning blame. It wasn’t even about who was responsible more than it was about just needing to get it done. He felt like I was playing dictator because it was my house, and I was taking away his liberties. He was acting like a child.

I was tired of these childish tantrums of his, and I finally could see that he never had my best interests in mind. I did so much for him and tried so hard to show him a different path. Yet, he was stuck on this one, and I refused to support it anymore. I was not about to be put out of my house, because I continued to be swayed by this little boy.

“Look,” I said, “if you don’t want to contribute, then you don’t have to, but you’re going to have to find somewhere else to be regardless. Either I’m going to lose this house and you’re going to be homeless, or I’m going to put you out, and you’re going to be homeless.”

I meant what I said to him, and I told him in an unmistakable tone, so he knew I was serious. All the same, after his reaction, I still asked myself why I said that. Goldie immediately flipped out into insane mode.

“I’m not going anywhere! I live here too!” He started yelling and screaming about me turning my back on him. “How can you say you love me and then try to put me out into the street? You know I don’t have any other place to go, and you would just do me like that? Fuck you! You never loved me.”

I was in shock. First, I couldn’t believe that he would go off like this, but then I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Is this how he really felt about me? Did he doubt my affections all this time? Now I started to get mad, no, furious.

“Nigga, how the fuck are you going to lay up in my house, dive my car, and then not want to contribute to keeping any of this? This shit costs money. And after all the shit we’ve been through and that I’ve done for you, how can you sit here and say I don’t love you? I’m starting not to love your dumb ass. You don’t appreciate shit. You know what? I don’t have to deal with this. You can take your shit right now and get the fuck out. Why don’t you call one of your ‘boys’ and ask them to let you stay with them. Who are you going to call? Marcus? Jeremy? You always got shit to say about what other people should be doing, but when it comes down to it, nobody is REALLY willing to do shit for you except give you a little money for you to shake your ass in their face.”

"OH Shit!" June screamed. The next thing I knew, I could feel the wind from an empty wine bottle as it flew past my face, hit the wall, and shattered into a million pieces all over the floor. One of the large shards ricocheted off the tile floor and sliced into the top of my foot. Blood was streaming and I couldn’t really move, because glass was everywhere. June rushed to help clear up the glass, so I could make my way to the bathroom. Up until that point, she had been standing there the entire time watching the discourse with her mouth wide open.

“What the fuck, Goldie!” I yelled. “This crazy-ass nigga almost hit me with a wine bottle!” I was frantic, nervous, and mad as hell! “You need to get the fuck out right now!”

"Oh, so you want me to leave then? Well fuck you and fuck all this shit!" Next, I heard more glass breaking as Goldie started ripping things off the wall. Picture frames fell while trinkets from shelves hit the floor. I jumped across the room in a trail of blood and grabbed the phone to dial 9-1-1

The Ledisi Experience

2010-12-13T14:19:00.000-08:00

Normally, I would be continuing with the final chapters of The Red Shoes, but I’m taking a very, very, short break from that story, because I was inspired, this past weekend, to write about the Ledisi Experience. This experience, as is the case with most of my experiences, is not so much literal as it is figurative. However, I will take a moment to talk about the talent that is Ledisi.

I have been to many concerts, but I have to say that, of all of them, Ledisi truly was the most engaging. She left me on a cloud, and I was so excited that I could hardly get to sleep that night. It didn’t hurt that my emotions were raging with excitement for being there, for the company I was with, and for the breathtaking opening by Avery* Sunshine. I have to tip my hat to Avery* Sunshine, because she is certainly an up-and-coming artist. I have had her album for a while, but really never listened to more than a couple songs until after hearing her live. Although her album is nice, it serves her live performance absolutely no justice. On stage, she said she found out she was opening for Ledisi half an hour before she got on stage and couldn’t be more excited to have the opportunity. Once I heard her sing, I could think of no better artist to take on such a monumental task as to open for Ms. Peaches.

Once the headliner, Ledisi, took to the stage for a sold-out, to-capacity show, the audience was on their feet, screaming and whaling. The energy was high, and she certainly delivered well past my every expectation. I could have had an intermission and returned to listen to her sing for another two hours. What’s more, I got to attend the concert with Mr. Eighty-five Percent, who I have been seeing off and on over the last year. But I’ll talk more about him at the end. As much as I would love to give a more detailed account of Ledisi’s performance, this entry isn’t about her; it’s about how I felt during and after the performance. I hope that someone, somewhere out there, can identify with something I have to say.

When you’re ready for the love that’s not ready for you:

In a perfect world, Love would be ready for us when we got ready for Love; but that is rarely the case. Moreover, the reciprocal is equally true. We would be ready for Love, when Love got ready for us. During this Ledisi performance, I found myself shedding a few tears thinking of my late friend, Andre. It was Andre who turned me on to Ledisi with her song, “Best Friend,” from Lost and Found. It wasn’t until much later that the real emotion behind the song came to me. One day, during a photo shoot, the song was in my playlist, when I just happened to bring up Andre introducing me to Ledisi’s music through it. After listening to the words, ‘I’m in love, I’m in love with my best friend,’ my client asked, “Well, was your friend in love with you?” It wasn’t until that very moment that it all made sense, and as much as I tried to cover it up with a smile, I got really sad inside.

Andre was a beautiful man with the kindest heart one could ever have. When we met, he would tell me that he didn’t have long to be here, so he just wanted to enjoy life and do as much as he could. I would always tell him to stop saying things like that, until I found out that he had been diagnosed with Lupus and not expected to live long at all. You could never even tell that he was sick. He was tall, handsome, and had an incredible body. He was golden with green eyes and a beautiful smile. On the surface, he looked like he could easily grace the covers of some magazine, or play running-back for some college football team. When he had bad days, he always had a smile, so one would tend to take for granted the pain he was in.

When I met Andre, he was already making plans for his death, yet I didn’t realize, at the time, how close he had come to the end. He had already had a daughter, and his daughter’s mother would later birth another child for him. He was not romantically involved with her, since he was gay, but she was his ex-girlfriend from high school. They were obviously very close, since she gave him two children so that he could pass on his genes before he died.

For Andre and me, music was always something that held us together. Music also has a healing quality. No matter how good or bad you may feel, music will always be there to support that emotion. I supposed the hours we spent listening to music together were therapeutic in some ways. We would always send each other songs and new artists, so it never really meant anything more when he sent me that Ledisi song. I was so caught up in her talent that I didn’t bother to take the words to heart. Looking back, I see what he wanted to tell me, but never did. Andre and I had become close, but then, one day, he decided to take his daughter and move back to New York to be closer to his family. It was not very long after this move that his ex became pregnant with his son.

I was so confused about Andre. I mean, I had a crush on him, but I couldn’t see myself getting that emotionally involved with someone who had told me they were going to die. As much as I didn’t want to, I forced myself to stay fairly detached, because I knew it would be devastating. His move to New York just made it easier for me to detach myself from those feelings. As a friend, I cared for him, and loved the attention he gave me. He was full of life, so he would always do the unexpected. One day, I got this mysterious phone call from a local number I didn’t recognize. Like many people I know, I don’t answer unknown numbers. I usually let them go to voicemail. I didn’t check my voicemail for a day, and when I finally did, it was Andre calling me saying I should have answered my phone, because he had made a surprise trip to Atlanta and wanted to spend some time with me.

I regret such a missed opportunity, because a month or two later, a mutual friend called me to let me know that Andre had passed. Andre had introduced this friend to me, because it was all he could do to help him. He knew I have a good heart and would give him good advice in his stead. For the first time, Jamar and I began to talk about Andre, and he told me, “You know Andre was in love with you? He used to talk about you ALL the time!” It was hard for me to accept the reality that Andre was gone. It was even harder to accept that someone could open themselves up to fall in love with me, even when they knew love would not last. But that was Andre’s spirit; to be open to everything and just let life flow.

Sometimes, love comes to us when we are not expecting it, or in a form we are not expecting, so we turn away. We make all these excuses about why this love is not the right love instead of just letting Love be. In retrospect, had I known how Andre really felt about me when he was alive, I would have let him love me, and I would have loved him hard for as long as he was here. In the end, I think it would be better to have known that type of love in my life for a moment, then to feel this loneliness that I feel sometimes.

People do what they want to do:

Now, near the end of the Ledisi concert, my emotions had swayed more towards my feelings about Mr. Eighty-five Percent. If you are reading this and feel a little confused about who he is, then feel free catch up by reading a couple of my earlier posts. I cannot think of anyone else I would have liked more to share this experience with than him. I have to admit that over the last couple months, Mr. Eighty-five Percent has turned into Mr. Ninety Percent, but he is still far from 100%, and 110% might as well be infinity. I still don’t know how to feel about him, and that perplexes me. I am relatively clear about most things that I want in life, but when it comes to him, I seem to be stuck on stupid.

In one hand, I have the perfect gentleman who makes me feel like I want to feel when I’m with him. I can honestly say that I have never felt this strongly about someone. Everything in my spirit tells me that this is the one for me. I have felt like that since the night we met, and I feel as strongly about him today as I did nearly a year ago. In the other hand, I have a man who is dealing with his own personal issues, and has put up an enormous wall that I have stared at for almost a year wondering if I want to climb over it, knock it down, or just leave my graffiti on it and walk away.

At times like this, I do think of Andre and how he may have felt about me. To feel so strongly about someone, yet they are not ready or willing to receive the love you have to offer. I think I can only aspire to open my heart up as big as Andre did. He had come to a place in life where he had accepted his fate and made no apologies for loving people just because he wanted to love them, being kind for the sake of being kind, being honest because he had nothing to lose, and enjoying every moment life had to offer. I miss him for that.

I will always have a reason to remember that someone loved me so much while I kept my wall up. A couple months after Andre died, I was notified that his son was born, and at Andre’s request, he was named Christopher Jamar after me and our mutual friend. I wonder what he could have seen so deep in me that he should honor me this way. A tear falls at the thought that one day someone might see those things in me again.

Deep down inside, I know he (Mr. Eighty-five Percent) does not give me any of the simple things that I need, and for this reason, I have tried to keep him at a distance as much as I can stand it. There are those simple things that we need so we can feel like we are important to someone: a call to say I was just thinking about you, a random invitation to grab a burger; it really doesn’t take much. I get none of those things. Sometimes, he makes me feel like those things will come if I’m just a little more patient, and sometimes, I feel like I’m just grasping at smoke in the wind. There are times when I feel like he knows me so well, and times when I feel like we are still strangers.

One thing I do know is that people do what they want to do. If you have ever gotten an excuse that “I’m just so busy,” or “We’ll have to get together soon,” but soon doesn’t come soon enough; just realize that people do what they want to do. They make time for people they want to make time for, and if they really want to see you, they will fit you in however they can. If one is really interested in another, they will make an effort to make room for that person in their life, no mater what place they happen to be in their personal growth or experience. If you ever find that you are chasing someone who is not chasing you back, just learn to leave them be. When the time is right, they will come to you, and if not, then they weren’t worth keeping.

With regard to Mr. Eighty-five percent; I have let him go so many times, but I still keep going back. I did let him know (as Ledisi reminded me) that I still have my walk. It wasn’t really a threat to him more than an affirmation to me that if things don’t work out for whatever reason, I’ve been practicing, and someone out there is going to like the way I walk! I have no idea where this will go or how far I want to take it, but I will start to follow my own advice to just gently pull away. My only problem is not that I can’t do it, but I hate doing anything alone. Now, after meeting him, he’s the only person I really want to share these new experiences with. So, until Mr. One Hundred Ten Percent decides to show up, I’ll enjoy the 85% that I do have.

Red Shoes – Chapter 5: Lesbian Crackheads

2010-11-23T13:56:00.000-08:00

All over the news, they were announcing our impending doom as Hurricane Rita sped through the Gulf, headed straight for Houston, Texas. At the time, the entire City of Houston was still dealing with the fresh aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. City officials had to deal with the influx of victims to stadiums, hospitals, hotels, and other places within the city and surrounding areas. Just the previous week, Goldie and I had driven my cousin to College Station where she met her daughter. The daughter had managed to secure some temporary housing at Texas A&M. The two were separated after a dramatic helicopter rescue that pulled them off a rooftop upon which they had been stranded for three days. After a week of trying to find each other and another couple weeks of separation, it was my pleasure to help them to be reunited.

With the memories of Hurricane Katrina still fresh in our minds and the news reports stating that the eye of the hurricane was heading straight for my area, the entire city was in a panic. This was a time where the nation, as a whole, found out just how unprepared we were for major disasters. My anxiety level was very high, and I remember having a constant nervousness about me. I really couldn’t afford to evacuate anywhere, because I didn’t have money for gas to make it out of town and back. Where would we go? With no money, Goldie and I were staying with one of my friends until that friend decided to break ranks and evacuate to Dallas. This left us with no place to go except my parents’ house, because the power at my house was off, and I was actually afraid to be stranded in the house during the storm.

My mother had sworn off any kind of evacuation. I thought she was a little naive, but in retrospect, I don’t blame her, since her house is built to withstand Hurricane-force winds. It turns out that the entire evacuation process was a disaster in and of itself. Most gas stations ran out of gas, because so many people filled up for the long drive to Dallas, Austin, or any place away from the Gulf. The highways were overcrowded and backed up with outbound traffic, so no gas trucks could even make it to the gas stations to resupply them. People were being stranded on the highways, because they sat in their cars for hours barely moving more than a few miles. Some of my friends reported back to me that it took them up to thirteen hours to drive to Dallas, normally a four hour trip. What’s more, the grocery stores were rationing out items and only allowing a certain number of customers in the stores at a time. There was even a report of a bus-full of elderly passengers in which some of them died after the bus caught on fire. The entire experience was madness and chaos.

For me, the hurricane was an excuse and a lie. It was an excuse to leave my home with no power and have some alternative without letting anyone know what was going on. I had paid the power bill and the reconnection fee, but the power company told me that it could take up to 48 business hours before they would restore service. Since that was on a Friday afternoon, it might be as late as the following Tuesday before power would be restored. It was one thing to be going through this situation without telling people how I was suffering or what was going on with me privately, but then there was Goldie. He was with me, standing by my side, following me everywhere I went. I was constantly making a way out of no way. First, I secured a place to stay with a friend and then with my parents, but the truth was that he was completely useless and had no place to go himself. His own mother lived in Houston, yet she would not let him stay with her. I should have taken note of this, but I just believed his excuse rather than thinking of the deeper meaning behind it all.

I didn’t even bother to think about what it really meant that he would be standing by my side perpetrating this lie to everyone with me. Of course he wasn’t going to tell people what was really going on, because it would make him look bad. I, at least, had an excuse for not working, since people were aware of the effort I was making to establish my own business.

After the storm passed, the power was out in many places around the city, so it gave me a little more time to lie and say that the power was still out in my neighborhood. When Tuesday came around, we finally were able to go back to my house. I think my mom was a little suspicious, but she never said anything. I think the experience made Goldie wake up and realized how serious things were. First, I’m sure he had to recognize the lengths that I went through just to make sure he was ok. In the past, the people that he had been involved with probably would have told him that he needed to find a place to go for the storm, because he couldn’t come with them. He also realized that I really did have bills to pay, and if we were going to continue on this path, he was going to have to contribute in a real way. With that in mind, he found a job as a waiter at IHOP by the end of the week.

I thought him having a job, even if it was at IHOP, was a good thing, but it turned out that this was the beginning of the end.

Now that things were a little more stable (in comparison to the way things had been), and now that Goldie was bringing home a semi-steady income, things started going back to the way they used to be. That’s not to say that our relationship got any stronger. It only means that Goldie started reverting back to his old self. We were seeing more of Kaila, Shiloh, and June again, but now there were new people added to the mix. At his last job, Goldie had befriended a young lady who he now started to invite over on a more regular basis. She, in turn, would invite one of her friends to come with her. All of a sudden, my house seemed to be the party house, and there were all types of strange characters that I did not know. True to form, “Becky” was in attendance as well. These gatherings became late night events, where Goldie would have people over well into the early morning hours. Strangely enough, Shiloh and Kaila’s girlfriend June would come together without Kaila.

From time to time, I would ask about Kaila and what she was up to. June didn’t really want to speak much about her, but Shiloh told me the most interesting story as she listened along. At the time, he was living with her and her ten year-old daughter. He said that he was worried about her, because he thinks; no, he KNOWS she smokes crack. I had a look of astonishment on my face when I heard the news. I never would have even imagined something like this, and I was still having a hard time believing it. “Why would you even say something like that? How do you know? Have you seen her?” I berated them with questions, because I just couldn’t see my friend participating in such a horrible recreation.

“No, none of us have seen her actually do it,” Shiloh started out, “But, I was in her bathroom, and there is this box under the sink in the very back. I opened it, and I found a crack pipe and lighters. I know she smokes crack, because sometimes I see her, and she is so high, but she tries to pretend like she isn’t. I’m worried about her, because her daughter is there, and I know she has to know something. She gets into everything, and if she hasn’t found it already, she is going to.”

At that moment, my heart sank. I felt so bad for my friend, but I felt even worse for her daughter, because I knew she should not be in that type of environment. She was at a very young and impressionable age where she needed her mother to be a mother. I’m sure she could not be that when she was high on crack. As Shiloh recounted his story and all the different episodes, June sat by and nodded in agreement. She had been silent about it all for a long time, but then she added, “That girl is crazy! I don’t know why I even keep seeing her, but when that bitch is high, the sex is so good! She crazy though, I’m telling you. She likes to fight, and she is always starting shit.”

I was hearing this all for the first time, and could not believe my ears. This was not the same Kaila that I knew. I took a look around me; at the people in my house and what I had let my life become, and I just got really sad. Things seemed to happen so quickly. In a matter of seven months, I had gone from a very happy, single, young professional to having a boyfriend who was also a cokehead, there was weed all around me, my close friend turned out to be an undercover, functioning crackhead, I had no job, I was broke and struggling to make my business work. I felt even worse, because I wanted to talk to my friend about the example she was setting, but how could I be a hypocrite and criticize her about how she lived her life, when my own was in such disarray?

About a week later, Goldie had brought some of his club friends back with him to the house after the club had closed. It was around 3:30 AM, and we were in the living room hanging out when all of a sudden; we heard this beating on the door. Everyone froze. My heart thumping out of my chest, it had to be the police, but for what reason, I could not imagine. The beating came again, this time, more ferociously, so I slowly rose and nervously walked to the door. When I looked out the peep hole, I saw June standing there, so I quickly opened it. She burst in, and we both started talking at once, “BITCH! Are you crazy? We thought you were the cops! Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?

      “I told you that bitch is crazy!” She ranted. “I had to get out of there! That ‘hoe was high, and we got in a fight. I knocked over her TV. It was an accident, but it’s smashed now, and she called the police. I got a traffic warrant, so I had to get out of there. Do you think I can stay here for the night?”

As I’m sure you have already guessed, I have never been the kind to turn someone away in their time of need, and June was no exception. However, I had to clear it with Goldie, since this was his living space also. He agreed, and she slept in the guest room. This night was one moment in time where I distinctly remember making a decision that would change my life. The next morning, when June awoke, she came to me and asked if she could use my garage temporarily to store some of her things. She said she needed to go to Kaila’s to pick up the rest of her stuff, before she threw it out. June was done with the relationship, and needed to get out of there. I agreed, since I had extra space. For some reason, I thought she might have a couple boxes, or maybe some clothes. When she returned, she brought all types of things; boxes, clothes, and FURNITURE.

When I saw all the stuff she had, I asked her, “Girl, what is all this? I thought you just had a few things you needed to get.”

      “Well, while I was getting my stuff at Kaila’s, I stopped by my ex’s place to get my chair. I love this chair.” She was referring to an old, dusty, beat-up recliner that she unloaded from the back of her truck. “I wanted to make a proposition to you. I know things are a little tight with you and Goldie right now, so I wanted to offer to rent your extra room for a few weeks while I find a place. What do you think?”

      “What I think? Well, it looks like you’re already here!” She really put me on the spot to make a decision, but moreover, I really had to consider her offer. I had no income aside from my savings and the small unemployment that I was getting, and Goldie had very little income to contribute. Having someone else in the house would mean that I could at least make sure all the bills were paid on time, and try to catch up on the ones that were behind. At this point, I had skipped my first house payment and car payment, so I was beginning to feel the sting. “Well, I guess a few weeks can’t hurt. We see you all the time anyway.” I told her.

BREAK: The above situation should be noted by everyone. This is how lesbians move in on you! They are so slick with it. This entire thing happened so quickly that I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was done.

Needless to say, a few weeks turned into months; nine months, to be exact. OK, I’m going to leave you all there, but there is more to this story, so please stay tuned. Still to come:

Emergency 911
The Red Shoes

Red Shoes – Chapter 4: Meet the Parents

2010-04-12T10:49:00.000-07:00

I had no idea that Goldie already knew Shiloh. It really wasn’t a big deal to me. If anything, it would have been more of a big deal to Goldie had he known that Shiloh had a crush on me. I have to admit that, at one time, I had a small crush on him too. It was one of those cute crushes that neither of us would dare act upon, because our mutual friend, Kaila, happened to be his best friend and a very close friend of mine. You never want to get involved with someone like that, because it could cause tensions between friends if something should go wrong. It was also one of those things that you just didn’t mention to your boyfriend, because it would probably cause unnecessary confusion in your own relationship. I was with Goldie now, so whatever attraction we used to share no longer mattered.

I didn’t really pay attention to the conversation Goldie and Shiloh were having in the club, because I was busy catching up with Kaila. However, by the end of the night, Goldie had asked if Shiloh and Kaila could come back to the house with us to hang out. It was late, but I didn’t mind; they were all cool people. Plus, Kaila was actually the first of my friends to even meet my new boyfriend. Kaila came to the house with Shiloh and June, her new girlfriend.

We made it back to the house and everyone settled in the living room with music playing lightly in the background. June had started rolling a cigarillo when Shiloh pulled out a little plastic baggie. UGGH! It was now obvious what Goldie and Shiloh had in common and what they had been discussing at the club. This routine was starting to get tired now. I didn’t mind the weed so much as the cocaine, which they so affectionately called “Becky” or “that white girl.” Goldie went into my bathroom and brought back one of my nice, decorative mirrors and a razor blade. I can remember first thinking; this is not what my life is supposed to be like. I then thought, of all the damn mirrors in this house, why the hell would you pick that one?

The whole episode just brought back memories of my aunt. I remember her showing up at my parents’ door late one night with her young children in tow. She had left her husband in the middle of the night, because he had a horrible coke habit. I was never told nor did I ever ask the details of what made her leave him, but it must have been serious enough for her to drive so far away. They ended up living with us for a few months while she got back on her feet and got her life on track as a newly single mother. I was in middle school at the time, but growing up with that memory was probably one of the many that had, until this point, steered me very clear of any involvement with cocaine or any drug for that matter.

I’m sure that technically, one could say that I was a victim of peer pressure, but I’d like to think differently. No one ever “pressured” me to do anything. I was in my own home, and everyone there was my guest, so I could have said no at any time. My thinking was more along the lines of live and let live. Moreover, as I transitioned into my early 20’s, I was a lot more experimental than I was as a teenager. As long as I was in a safe environment, like my home or a trusted friend’s home, then I felt like it was okay to try it once to see what it was all about. Of course, there are still those substances that you just don’t approach, no matter what (e.g. crack, heroine, crystal meth, etc.).

In this case, it was the dazed-and-confused state of what I believed to be love that clouded my judgment more than any drug could. Although my name was on the mortgage, it was clearly Goldie who was running things. He told me he loved me, and he treated me like I was the most important person in his life, so I let him get away with whatever he wished. My home was no longer simply my home. It was our home to share, and I couldn’t very well tell him what he could and could not do. I was weak for love, and I gave in to this nonsense, because my heart was full of an intimate love and affection that friends and family could never fulfill. No one could give me that emotion that he gave, and I had to protect that.

As we smoked and did a few lines, we all got a lot more acquainted. Kaila and I were close friends in the sense that we had known each other for a few years, and she was part of the crew with which I normally hung out. We had never spent any time together outside of the group, so this was a first. There were twelve of us altogether, six guys and six girls. Others came and went depending on whom we were dating or which outside friends we would bring along to group functions, but, at the core, there was the twelve of us, and we were all as tight as a family. Shiloh was one of those outside friends that Kaila would bring over from time to time, and this is how I knew him.

Although, as a group, we had spent the last few years doing just about everything together, we were slowly growing distant as each of us began to grow into our own careers and personal lives. I had been slightly estranged from my crew since I started dating and working on establishing my company, so none of them had met Goldie; Kaila was the first. It turned out that Kaila had not been hanging with the crew as much those days either, so I was the first to meet her new girlfriend, June. We ended up having a nice time that night, so Shiloh gave Goldie his number and said we should all hang out again sometime soon. Goldie took him up on that offer, and I started to see more of them as they would invite us over to Kaila’s apartment, or we would have them all over at the house.

As the weeks went along, it seemed that Goldie and I were settling into being a couple very nicely. He was working every day, and with him out of sight, I was making a lot of progress with my new client. The Fourth of July was coming around, and my parents had planned a huge barbeque. My mother invited all of her siblings, their kids, grandchildren, and all of our friends to their house. When she called me to let me know about the party, she slipped in that sly, “you can bring a friend,” in there to let me know she wanted to meet Goldie.

I won’t get into my whole coming out story, because that is an entry by itself, but after that process, I was very reserved with my family about being gay. It is, as it should be, simply a part of me, but that does not define me. Because of the way it was handled, I always felt like I had something to prove; that I can be who I am and make no apologies to anyone. I can also be myself and not throw that part of my life in your face. After I moved out of my parents’ house at 21, I didn’t really speak on the subject to them anymore. This was it. This was the first time that I would ever bring a boyfriend to meet any of my family. I had been reserving that right for someone very special, because I didn’t want to give them the impression that I was like stereotypical gay people, moving from one relationship to the next.

On July 4th, Goldie accompanied me to my parents’ house where many, many of my relatives had gathered. Now, my parents have managed to do quite well for themselves, but they are still from humble beginnings in the rural South United States. With that said, when we all get together, we can be very country. Goldie, originating from Philadelphia, was introduced to a way of life he had never seen before. He witnessed my mother shoot a raccoon in the head with her .38 snug-nose. My aunt proceeded to skin, dress, and cook it. Although I don’t eat raccoon, it was nothing new to me. Goldie, on the other hand was mesmerized; it was a first for him, and he had to try everything. I think he fell in love with raccoon that day.

I believe most of my family fell in love with Goldie that day. They started out by slyly asking me, “is that your ‘friend’?” When I confirmed what they had already assumed, they commenced to grill Goldie about his past, how we met, and any other private question they could think to ask. My mother greeted him with loving, open arms, as she does with all of our friends and guest. It doesn’t matter who you are, if you come to our home, my mother will treat you like you are part of the family until you act like you are not. My father was cordial, but they didn’t really talk much. I wouldn’t say that it was a matter of dislike more than it was a matter of observation on my father’s end. He has always been the quiet type that will stand back and watch you as he learns everything he needs to know. I’m sure his reaction was, if you’ve decided to date his son, then you better be worth it.

We spent the rest of the evening dancing to oldies and playing Spades, Dominoes, and Tonk (Tunk). By the time we left that evening, my mother had given Goldie her business card and told him that if he ever needed anything to just give her a call. Then she ended with a stern look and said, “take care of my son.” As I drove off that evening, I was relieved that things had gone so well. Goldie had an opportunity to meet my parents and my brothers. Moreover, the cat was out of the bag that we were living together. After the 4th of July, the relationship that I thought was so wonderful became very sour very fast.

Earlier, you might remember that I mentioned I was unemployed and working to establish my own design firm. After I left my previous employer, I decided to take a step out on faith and follow my passion. I had been living off my saving for quite some time, when I finally landed my first major client. This was my first real gig, so I was still inexperienced at deal making, but we came to an agreement that the work I did would be commission-based. I had formed a partnership with another company, and between the two firms, we would produce a charitable function at a major HBCU. Our compensation would be a percentage of the total funds we were able to generate through this high-end celebrity fundraiser.

Everything seemed to be going fine and on schedule until our primary talent, around whom the event was based, came up with a conflict. This conflict meant that we had to change the date of the event, not only to coincide with our talent’s schedule, but for the availability of the building which we were getting for free. This also meant that we had to reconfirm each and every celebrity on our guest list and make additions or cancellations where necessary. That one date change pushed our show back two months, which meant that I would have to stretch my money an additional two months to survive.

With Goldie working and contributing however little it was, it at least was a help, until one afternoon, Goldie came home for lunch clearly upset. “Man, fuck that job! I’m not going back.”

“What the hell…” I began. “What happened? What’s going on?”

“Man, I quit. I’m not about to sit there and let that bitch manager talk to me like that. I don’t even like that job, having to answer phones all day and listen to people complain. Fuck those people, fuck that bitch, and fuck that job.”

“Well, Goldie, what are you going to do about money? You know we have bills here…”

“No,” he interrupted, “this is your house. YOU have bills.

“What?” I was shocked that he would say something so ridiculous. “As long as you’re living here, you are going to contribute, and these bills become your bills too.”

“Fine, I’ll find another job, but I’m not going back there.”

“Well, you need to find something quickly,” I said smugly, “because my date got pushed back 2 months. I don’t need any extra stress when I’m already dealing with enough stress for this show.”

Goldie had a look of rage in his eyes. “What the fuck! How are you going to sit here and tell me I need to find a job? I’m the only one who’s been bringing in a paycheck anyway. You don’t make any money. Why don’t YOU go find a job damnit? I don’t even understand how somebody with your skills and talent could just sit around all day and not go out and make money. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

BREAK: Here is a lesson for any entrepreneur, aspiring artist, or in fact, anyone with a dream. Only surround yourself with people who support your dream and vision, and those people who can help make your dream a reality. The minute you encounter negative thinking, you need to remove that from your space. Goldie never had any real education, since he dropped out of high school. He had resigned himself to believing that since he did not have a high school diploma or GED, that there was very little in this world he could accomplish. It was also nearly impossible to explain to him how my career worked. It was something around which he could hardly fit his head. His idea of working for a living was, you work and you get paid, period. His street mentality wouldn’t allow him to understand how I could pour my soul into a project with no pay for months, because I could see the big payout down the road.

After a few weeks of Goldie being unemployed, we were starting to struggle. I had been living of my savings for about five months and had another month until the new date for our show. I had given myself a six-month window to make things happen, so it looked like I would barely make it when tragedy struck the nation and my project at the same time.

In August of 2005, Hurricane Katrina swept through New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, United States, changing so many lives forever, including my own. I have to admire the way that people from around the nation came to the aid of those affected by the devastation, even when our own government was late to respond. However, this kindheartedness did not bode well for my special project.

We were in the process of putting together a fundraiser for an institute at a prominent HBCU. After Katrina, celebrity publicists and managers started calling left and right to cancel. They could not attend, because they were doing a Katrina fundraiser, or they could not give money anymore, because they were giving money to Katrina victims. Through all the devastation in New Orleans, I too was devastated. What was I going to do now? I had invested so much of my time and money into this, knowing it was a risk that would have a huge payback if it was successful. Now, we would again have to regroup and reschedule. The college board of directors asked us to move our event to sometime in the winter. We decided on December.

Weeks after the mass exodus from New Orleans, we found that hundreds of thousands of evacuees had migrated to the Houston area. Everyone in the Gulf Coast region was already on edge when the National Weather Service issued a warning stating that an even more intense Hurricane Rita was headed straight for Houston, Texas. After New Orleans, the city was in panic mode. The fourth-largest city was already the largest host for Katrina evacuees. We were still dealing with the first catastrophe when we had to figure out how to move the hundreds of thousands of Katrina victims plus over four million Houston area residents were now in danger. Although many people were attempting to evacuate the city, my mother said she was not leaving her home. She said her house was built to withstand hurricane-force winds, and she refused to venture out into the confusion.

Goldie and I had to make a decision about what we wanted to do. We spent the next few days watching the coverage of the storm as it traversed the Gulf of Mexico. At its present course, it was heading directly towards us. If it continued our way, we could choose to stay at the house and wait out the storm which could be very dangerous, since my house was not nearly as strong as my parents’. Our second option would be to evacuate like many others in the city would choose to do. Just then, the decision was made for us when the electricity went off in the house. In the dark and eerie silence, we both looked at each other with shock and bewilderment, but instantly we knew that playing with the bills had finally caught up to us.

I had to scramble quickly to make some things happen. I was slightly embarrassed that I had allowed the power to be shut off at my house, so I didn’t want to call my parents to help me out. I already knew they would hit me with a barrage of questions and criticisms. How could I have let things go this far before coming to them? Why was Goldie not contributing to the bills? I didn’t want to hear any of this; I just needed a couple more days until my unemployment check arrived, so I could pay the bill. I called an old friend and asked if we could crash at his place for a couple days, and he agreed.

I explained what happened to my friend, and he gave me some of the same criticism I should have expected from my parents, only it didn’t seem as harsh coming from him rather than my mother. Mothers have a way of phrasing things just the right way to make you feel like an utter failure sometimes. Friday came, and I was able to pay the electricity bill, but they gave me a 24-48 hour time frame to have the power back on, which meant it would be Monday at the earliest. As the storm grew nearer, my friend decided the time had come for him to evacuate to Dallas. Since he was leaving, this meant that we had to make other arrangements.

All of a sudden, I felt homeless with a lot of baggage. In anticipation of major destruction, I had packed up my computer, my dog, some clothes, and my boyfriend. Unfortunately, when it came to survival, my boyfriend seemed about as useful as my dog. He was selfish and only ever knew how to survive for himself and not for anyone else. With all of this baggage and no money, I knew there was only one place left for me to go, my parents’ house.

I’ll leave you here for now, but please stay tuned. Still to come:

Lesbian Crackheads
Emergency 911
The Red Shoes

Red Shoes – Chapter 3: Placed On a Pedestal

2010-04-05T12:26:00.000-07:00

Goldie pulled into the driveway soon after Marcus had revealed to me that the two of them had recently slept together. I had told Marcus that I wasn’t going to say anything to Goldie about the news he had just dropped on me, but this was an agreement I made before I knew what he was going to say. I was in a very strange situation, because Goldie and I were dating and living in the same house, but we weren’t “officially” a couple. All the same, we were having sex, and it’s inappropriate to be having sex with multiple partners. Moreover, it’s just plain tacky to be dating someone exclusively and then go sleep around with someone else. I’m sure Marcus knew that after he told me the two of them had slept together, there was no way I could just let that slide without mentioning it.

By the time Goldie arrived, I was furious; but I have an uncanny ability to internalize my anger. I played it off as if nothing was wrong. It was getting late, and Goldie and Marcus were about to go back to Marcus’s place before they went out to the club that evening (as was the original plan). I let things play out just as they normally would have done, but I was planning a surprise of my own when Goldie came back to the house.

They were gone for about an hour when my phone rang. It was Goldie calling frantically, “Christopher, did Marcus really tell you we slept together?”

I didn’t know what to think. Marcus had just told me not to say anything to Goldie, yet he obviously couldn’t wait to tell him what we discussed. I figured he was trying to play damage control, and I could hear him yelling something in the background. Goldie sounded distraught and angry. “Yes, he did tell me,” I said to him calmly. “We can talk about this when you come back.”

“And he told you not to say anything? So, you’re keeping secrets from me now? This is some bullshit! I knew I shouldn’t have left the two of you alone. How can I even trust you when you’re going to talk about me behind my back like that?”

All I could think was, has this nigga lost his damn mind? He just accused me of keeping secrets from him and talking about him behind his back when he has the nerve to cheat on me while he is living in my house? He didn’t even know how the conversation came about, and THIS is what made him angry. I was trying to be calm, but after hearing this foolishness, my mouth just dropped. All I could see was red. “Keeping secrets from you? Talking about you behind your back? Are you crazy? You got the nerve to bring your ‘hoes into my house and parade them around me, and then you want to accuse me of doing YOU wrong? And why shouldn’t you have left us alone? Because you knew I might find out? You know what, if that’s how you want to handle it, you can come get your shit right now. I don’t need this. I don’t need you living in my house, driving my car, running up my bills, and then going around fucking any and everybody you feel like.”

“But he’s lying, Chris!”

“How am I supposed to know that? Why would he sit up in my house and tell me something like that?”

“So you’re going to believe HIM over me?”

“I don’t know who to believe,” I was screaming into the phone at this point. “I don’t know if I can even trust you.”

At this point Goldie was no longer talking to me, but he was yelling at Marcus about trying to sabotage his relationship, then he came back to the phone. “I’m going to call you back. This is really fucked up! This is all a lie!”

When I hung up the phone, I was starting to shake. My mind was telling me that I needed to get out of this situation as soon as possible, because I had just brought drama into my normally drama-free life. However, my heart was hurting. Most of the events that I am discussing are the drama-filled negative events, but every day was not like that. Most of our days were filled with love and affection for each other. Despite everything, I really did have strong feelings for him, and we had been dating for a while at this point. I decided to follow my mind this time and use the opportunity when he was away to go into the guest room and pack up his stuff.

I like to respect people’s privacy, so I had given the guest room to Goldie to keep his belongings. Although he never slept in there, he did keep his clothes, file, and personal effects in that room. When I walked into the closet, it was a shamble; clothes and papers were everywhere. There was junk under the bed, in the cabinets, all over the place.

As I started to clean up, I noticed something very strange. There was a photocopy of someone’s driver’s license and social security number under the bed in a stack of papers. Again, I wasn’t born yesterday. I knew that Goldie had no business whatsoever with this information. He already had a very shady background manipulating people for money, and now the thought of him being involved with identity theft made me very nervous. Just then, I thought, Oh My God, he could have MY information too! I started going through everything to make sure he hadn’t written it down or copied it. I had always left my wallet lying around on the counter, the nightstand, or in the bathroom. He could have written it down or copied it at any moment. My trust level had dropped to zero at this point, so I went to the garage, grabbed a few boxes, and just started tossing his stuff inside.

In the middle of my packing, the phone rang again. I answered, and it was Goldie calling back out of breath. “Chris, you need to come pick me up,” he said panting.

“Why can’t Marcus bring you back? You left with him,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Because his dad called the police,” he said. “We were outside in the front yard fighting. I had to kick his ass for lying on me like that. Then, his dad came out and called the police, so I ran to the corner store. Man, can you just come? I’m at the Valero.”

“Fine,” I replied then hung up the phone. My mind was set that I needed to put him out, but there was the fact that he didn’t know I was putting him out that stood in the way. Not to mention the fact that I just couldn’t, with a clear conscience, throw anyone out in the street with nowhere to go. I pulled on my shoes, hopped in the car, and drove out to Hiram Clark.

Goldie must have seen me coming from a few blocks away, because he was waiting near the drive when I pulled up to the Valero station. He jumped in the car immediately, clothes tattered and torn. I was giving him the silent treatment, but he was obviously still worked up from the night’s events and felt the need to defend himself. “Chris, you have got to believe me, this is all a lie.”

“Really? Why would he lie, Goldie? What would he gain from telling me something like that?”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe he’s just jealous because I’m dating you and not him,” he replied.

“You know what, that’s a crock of shit. You mean to tell me that he thought that telling me something like that would make you date him instead of me? So tell me this; did you sleep with him or not?”

“Yes,” he paused. “But that was a long time ago before you and I ever started talking, and it was only once. He lied to you and said it happened recently.”

“Well, I don’t care anymore. I’m not about to deal with this shit and any of your other bullshit. I can’t trust you anymore. I started packing your shit up at the house, and when we get back, you can finish. You need to find some other place to be.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and then tears started streaming down his face. “Chris, how can you do this to me? I don’t want to be anywhere else. I want to be with you. I love you man. Do you think I would fight my best friend if I didn’t love you?” Goldie could hardly get the words out through the sobbing. It was out there now. For the first time, those three words had been spoken between the two of us, and they changed everything.

If nothing else, saying I love you calmed me down a little. I was still angry, but disarmed. When we got back to the house, the guest room was as I left it, half packed with the photo copy of the driver’s license and Social Security card on the bed in plain sight. When I saw it, I immediately asked him about it. “So, what is this about,” I asked, handing him the paper? “Did you steal this guy’s identity? Why would you even have this?”

Goldie and I instantly sparred with a bout of facial expressions. His was a look of questioning disbelief as if he were trying to say, I can’t believe you went through my stuff. Mine, on the other hand, was a look of parental authority stating, this is my house, and I can do what I want, now answer the question.

His eyebrows acquiesced as he began, “This is a guy that was staying with my ex and me. I made a copy of his information, because I didn’t trust him an needed to make sure I could find him again if I had to.”

“How long ago was this,” I asked?

“About three years ago.”

“So, why do you still have it?" I had a feeling he was lying to me, so I decided to test him. "You don’t need it anymore. Tear it up and throw it away right now,” I demanded. He complied.

After we both had calmed down considerably, we sat down and talked about what had happened that day. After all, the day started off beautifully with Goldie in a great mood. He was feeling so good that he wanted to do something nice for the important people in his life, so he decided to detail our cars. That was a gift he could give for free, since he wasn’t working. Neither of us would have imagined it would end the way it did. I could tell that he had a genuine fear that he was about to lose me. He begged me to reconsider and let him stay.

Through our conversation, I came up with my own set of demands. In order for us to move forward, he was going to have to get a job. A real job which didn’t require him taking off his clothes or manipulating other people. He agreed.

We had had a long day, as I lay in the bed that night with Goldie’s arms around me, he held me like it was the last time he would ever see me. I could feel the tenderness of his embrace as he pulled me closer to him and said, “You know, I meant what I said. I really do love you. I want to be your boyfriend, Chris. I want us to be official.”

I turned in the bed and kissed him. “OK,” I replied. “Then let’s make it official.”

The next day, I was in my office working, when Goldie came in to hand me the phone. “Who is this,” I mouthed to him.

“Marcus,” he answered. “He wants to apologize.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I actually couldn’t believe that Marcus would even call Goldie again after the previous night nor that he would have the balls to ask to speak to me. Reluctantly, I took the phone as if a gun were held to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey Chris, I’m really sorry about everything that happened yesterday,” Marcus began. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

“Well, what did you mean then,” I snapped? “Do you mean for me to just accept your apology too? After you come to my house, laugh with me and hang out with me, then lie to me and tell me that you slept with my man, how am I supposed to take that? I think it’s insulting. Not to mention the fact that you made me promise not to say anything and then you turn right around start running your mouth.” I added that last part in there out of spite.

“I know how you must feel, man. And I didn’t mean to lie. It was true; I just wasn’t accurate about when it happened. I didn’t mean to try to break you two up. I just wanted to be honest and put it all on the table. It wasn’t my place to even say anything to you though.”

“Well, I don’t trust you anymore. You lied to my face after I asked you twice. I’d rather you not come back to my house anymore, and don’t call me again.” I handed the phone back to Goldie. That was the first time in a long time that I had returned to my normal self and removed the cause of drama from my life, and it felt great. I didn’t want to know his reasoning behind his actions. I didn’t want to hear an apology, as if that would make things better and return them to normal. I just wanted to be rid of him and any reminder of the entire episode.

Over the next few weeks, Goldie was the perfect boyfriend. He found a job rather quickly through one of my contacts. Since I was working from home, I let him take my car to work. If I ever had things to do during the day, I would just drive him to work. He worked close enough that he could come home for lunch everyday. I noticed a distinct change in his demeanor. He was happy to be in a relationship, and he took pride in having me as his boyfriend. With his first paycheck, he surprised me. He went to the mall and bought me a pair of brown and white Pumas. I have to admit that even I was happy until that weekend.

Now that Goldie was making honest money, he had disposable income, which he chose to dispose of in the wrong way. That weekend, he asked me to come to the club with him. It was so cheesy, but he wanted to dress alike and I indulged him. Well, we weren’t matching exactly, but we wore similar styles, enough that you could tell by looking at us that we were a couple. I even wore the Pumas he bought me. Goldie had this glow of pride like I had never seen before. It actually made me happy to see someone this happy to be with me. It was as if he put me upon a pedestal and I was the most important person in the world.

While we were out, I ran into Shiloh, and old acquaintance I met through one of my close friends, Kaila. I had not seen Shiloh in a while, so I took some time to ask him how he was. I introduced him to Goldie, but it turned out that the two of them had already known each other. By the end of the night, I would find out how they met.

I’ll leave you here for this week. Stay tuned, still to come:

Meet the Parents
The House Party
The Hurricane
Lesbian Crack Heads
And much more…

Red Shoes - Chapter 2: I’m A Hustler Baby!

2010-03-22T14:28:00.000-07:00

I’ve always had a very generous heart when it comes to helping people. I have been blessed that I come from a culture where the people I grew up with always gave to others when they could. If I see someone who is trying to make a change in their life, and I have the capacity to assist them in some way, then I will. I was fortunate to grow up in a safe and sheltered environment. That is not the case with a lot of people, and it was definitely not the case with Goldie. Coming from a sheltered environment, there were many types of people that I just never knew existed. In many ways, my limited exposure to corrupt people made me a victim. Over the past ten years, I have met people whose morals don’t quite match my own. I don’t pass judgment on anyone, because I understand that we are all products of our experiences and our environment. I understand that Goldie’s experiences and environment made him into the person that he was (or still may be), but hopefully his experiences with me gave him something else to work towards.

As Goldie and I got to know more about each other, he would share details about his past and the hard life he had lived. He had always gone back and forth from his mother’s and father’s homes in Houston and Philadelphia respectively. This went on until his mother remarried. He had a bad relationship with his stepfather. After a physical altercation between the two of them, his mother refused to let him come back to her home. Tensions between Goldie and his stepfather had gotten so bad that she didn’t want the two of them together and around the younger children she had with this new husband. Her only option was to send him away to live with his father for good.

As I grow older, I realize that the more I try not to repeat the mistakes of my father, the more I find that I still have a lot of his ways. The same could be said for many men just as it could be for Goldie and his father. When he talked about why his parents got a divorce, he said it was because his father had a bad drug habit, and he used to beat his mother and steal all the household money. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I suppose Goldie’s mother could probably see his father in him, and didn’t want to be around it or expose her young, twin boys to that behavior. I could tell by the way he talked about it that he felt betrayed by his mother. She never let him come back to live with her, and he held a lot of resentment for that.

When Goldie’s mother sent him to live with his father, she, in essence, sent him to live on his own. With his father consumed in a drug habit and a younger sister in the house, he ended up finding ways to survive on his own and provide for the two of them. Goldie dropped out of high school sometime during his senior year, and moved out of the house completely at seventeen to live with a boyfriend. This was the same time he started stripping in gay clubs to make money. He quickly found he was very good at it.

Strippers are a fantasy to a lot of people. I have to admit, I have my own stripper fetish; there is something about attaining the unattainable, like a trophy on your wall that everyone else wishes they could claim. Goldie learned early in his “career,” that there were certain people who indulged a little too heavily in the stripper fantasy. He learned how to read and manipulate all types of people, how to gauge a personality in a very short conversation. For Goldie, stripping was an easy way to meet “clients,” and that the real money was in being an escort, going out with men who paid him for his time. According to him, he never had sex with them, but anytime he needed something, there were people he could call for money.

When one hears something like this, I’m sure most would be a little skeptical about escorts who don’t sleep with their clients. I know I was, at least until I saw him in action. One of his “clients” was someone I actually knew, and I also knew the personality type. Successful men with self esteem issues and extra money to spare were a sure target. When a young, cute, and clever guy with a very nice gym body gives this type of man some attention and quality time, he can get almost anything he needs. For Goldie, he didn’t see it as manipulation. He saw it as being nice and developing a friendship with generous people who didn’t mind helping him out financially. As long as he never slept with them, he could lead them to believe he was “semi-wholesome” and there was a possibility that one day they too could have him.

Because of how this story will eventually end, to this day, I still do not know if I was being manipulated from the start or if he had sincere feelings for me. I believe deep down inside that he wanted to be friends with all the people he manipulated, so in his eyes, he was partially innocent. In the beginning, Goldie wouldn’t tell me about how he made his money. This was something I found out by putting the pieces together over a few weeks of observation and conversation. I didn’t live within the Houston city limits or near public transportation, so every once in a while Goldie would ask me to use my car to visit his friends. I wasn’t about to keep him prisoner in my home, so I let him come and go as he pleased. Somehow, he would always come back with money in his pocket, because his generous friends would help him out. Since I knew some of the people he would visit regularly, I didn’t think much of it. I had known “Jeremy” for years, and his friend, “Marcus”, would come to the house every now and then to visit.

Marcus was his club buddy and best friend. Marcus would come to pick Goldie up on the weekends and take him out to the clubs. He would pay for his way to get in, and I’m sure Goldie would use his money to buy an 8-ball (a bag of cocaine for the innocent). There were times when they would return from the club with a friend or two and finish off their bag then smoke weed until 4AM. Since the gay community in Houston is so small, I happened to know some of the people he would bring back. They would say, “Christopher, I didn’t know you and Goldie lived together.” Then, of course, I would join them and we would all catch up, passing blunts and doing lines.

At this point, Goldie and I had been living together for about 2 months and dating for a little over three. This routine of Marcus coming to pick him up and them returning from the club with other friends went on for about another month. Sometimes, his friends would meet up at the house before they went out, do a few bumps, and then go out.

One Saturday afternoon during the summer, Marcus came over and Goldie must have been in a great mood. He told us both that he was going to wash and detail our cars, so he took Marcus’s car to the carwash around the corner. Marcus and I used the time to just talk, since I had never really had a real conversation with him alone. He asked me about myself and what I did for a living. He also told me that he admired me for being such a professional and having accomplished all that I had at such a young age. I was a little flattered. Eventually the conversation got a little personal, and he asked me, “So what’s up with you and Goldie?”

“What do you mean, what’s up,” I asked slightly perplexed?

“I mean, are you two supposed to be dating or something?”

“Are we supposed to be? Why would you ask me something like that? It should be obvious. Has he told you something different?”

“Well, I kinda figured there was more there, but he only told me you two were roommates.”

“If you were curious about our relationship, why wouldn’t you ask him? He’s supposed to be your friend.” At this point, I was starting to get slightly annoyed with him, because it seemed like he was just being nosy or about to be messy. Aside from this episode, he had been a pretty nice guy, so I was having a hard time understanding where all of this was coming from, but my interests were perked.

Just then, Goldie pulled up in Marcus’s car. It was clean and shiny. “What are you two talking about?”

“Oh nothing,” I said. “We’re just chillin’ and hanging out in the garage, really. It’s nice out here today.”

“Well, I’ll be back in a little bit,” Goldie stated as he grabbed my keys and pulled off in my car this time.

There was a short silence, almost as if he was waiting to make sure he had cleared the block before he continued, “If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Goldie I told you this?”

We all know that when someone says this to you, they are about to break some serious news, and I wanted to hear this serious news regardless of the consequences, so I lied and said, “I won’t say anything to him, what is it?”

“Well, we slept together.”

My heart just dropped out of my chest when I heard those words. I had to be sure this wasn’t some kind of joke though. How can you be sitting in my house telling me my man has been fucking you? All I could muster up the strength to ask was, “Recently? You slept together recently?”

“Yes,” he said.

I was still in disbelief. Goldie had never gave me the impression that cheat on me, nor did he have that kind of unpredictable or irregular behavior. I had to be really, really sure. “Recently, like within the last two weeks recently?”

“Yes,” he repeated. “Please don’t say anything to him. I had no idea you two were dating, and I promise, now that I know, it will never happen again. You're a great person, Chris, and I wouldn't want to do anything bad against you, that's why I just thought you should know the truth.”

My mind was racing. I didn’t know if I should be beating this dude’s ass right in my garage with all my neighbors on the block watching. Should I be throwing Goldie’s shit out on the lawn? I was so mad, I couldn't even think about crying. Then again, I couldn't just take his word for it. Here I had someone who couldn't have been as close to Goldie as I thought if he didn't even know we were dating. Even Jeremy knew that. I took a deep breath to regain my composure and looked up to find Goldie pulling into the driveway.

I’ll leave you here for this week. Tune in next time for more of this story. Still to come:

Meet the Parents
The House Party
The Hurricane
Lesbian Crack Heads
And much more…

Red Shoes - Chapter 1: All That Glitters Ain't Goldie

2010-03-17T12:49:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm wearing my Red Ferrari Pumas, as I often do on days when I want to feel confident and empowered. The story behind the red shoes takes me back to 2005-2006 and the infamous Goldie (I change names to protect myself, because there are no innocent ones in this story). I normally consider myself a pretty strong person, but this was a time when I became weak, and fell victim to people who prey on the disadvantaged. I am not proud of some of the things I will write about, but I have no regrets, because each of my experiences have made me into the person I am today, and I love me. I have always wanted to write about this experience, because I think people can learn quite a bit from what I went through. There is plenty of back-story, but, I won't get into how we met right now. I will break this story up into a few chapters to keep down the length; it’s hard to fit nine months of juicy drama into a few pages.

Most (not all) of the guys I have dated, have been guys that I have known in passing socially before ever deciding to go on a date. Such is the case with Goldie of whom I had known for years. We didn’t really socialize, because his ex-boyfriend happened to be someone with whom I chose not to hang around. One day, Goldie and I had an encounter, and his eyes just lit up when he saw me. There’s just something about the feeling you get when an extremely attractive person seems to light up at the sight of you, like a confidence booster. I supposed I really needed the boost at the time, since I had just returned from a trip to San Juan. Although the trip was amazing, and in general, I had a spectacular time, the guy who I went on the trip with betrayed me. I had bought him a ticket to come with me as a college graduation present. San Juan was an opportunity for us to finally get close, yet he decided to use the time to hide his tongue down the back of some other dude’s throat in the middle of a club and then disappear with him the next day. Needless to say, after the trip, I was slightly fragile when it came to guys. Goldie’s interest was certainly welcomed.

"Hi Chris! Oh my God, man, it's been so long since I've see you," he said as he gave me a hug. We weren't really that close, but a lot of gay men hug each other when they greet. I actually was surprised to see him. Although it is the 4th largest city, Houston has a very small black, gay community, so most people know or have seen each other. Goldie was one of those guys I saw in the club every once in a while.

"Hey Goldie, yes, it has been a while. Where have you been," I asked as I bent slightly to hug him, since he was a couple inches shorter than me.

"I've been staying with my dad in Philly, but I just moved back to Houston..." He filled me in on his past year, talking to me as if he knew me very well. In the end, he told me that he had always thought I was cute, but was too shy to ever ask me out. So I offered, and said we should go out sometime soon. We exchanged phone numbers, and he went on his way.

We had talked on the phone a few times that week. To my surprise, he was a very nice guy. He said all the right things that made me think, he could be a match. Later that week, I met my best friend, John, out at a club premiere (there is always a new club opening in the wake of a not-so-old club closing). Goldie was there looking very handsome. I said to John, "you see him, over there in the tie? What do you think of him? We are going to go out on a date next week."

"Goldie?" He asked.

"Yes, you know him?"

"Watch out! You know he's a user, don't you?"

"I've been talking to him on the phone all week. I don't get that from him. He seems like a pretty cool person. He's really nice," I said in his defense.

"OK, if you say so. I'm just telling you what I know," and he let the subject go at that.

DING! DING! DING!: Let's take a timeout from this story for a quick lesson. One thing I love about my best friend is that he knows how far to take things. We never force opinions on each other, we just state the facts and let it be. We both know that we have to let each other live our lives, and all we can do is support each other. However, this is one of those moments where I wish with all of my heart that I could go back in time and listen to my friend. I would have avoided so much drama had I not been stubborn. Too many times, we see a cute boy who shows us a little interest, and all of a sudden, we are ready to get that feeling. We mentally prepare for that feeling by blocking anything that might interfere, especially good advice or our own common sense. During this time, I was unemployed and heavily investing in my own design firm. (I'm setting you up right now for a few more lessons learned.) We now return you to your regularly schedule program, already in progress.

So, the day comes when I am supposed to meet Goldie for lunch. He doesn't have a car, and he is staying with "a friend," so I go pick him up. I didn't really think too much about him not having a job either, because he had money. He had only been back in Houston for 2 weeks or so, so of course he still would be job hunting. All the same, he was sweet and paid for our lunch. After lunch, we went back to his place and just hung out. We listened to music and talked; it was a nice afternoon. I had such a nice time, that we ended up spending the next few days together doing the same routine (add some making out to that). Eventually, we got to the point where I had mentioned me being a photographer, and he got to the point where he mentioned that he used to be a stripper, but wanted to take some more photos, so we planned a shoot. We went all over 4th Ward Houston to some very beautiful areas and had a great time taking photos and getting to know more about each other. Those were the beautiful days. I'll never forget how much fun we had taking pictures in the rain.

A few weeks later, Goldie told me that he was having issues with his roommate. I couldn't understand why, since I had met the guy and he seemed pretty nice. According to Goldie, there was some jealousy, because he thought his roommate liked him. This started to make more sense to me, because I clearly could see how this would pose a problem. His "roommate" had some self esteem/self-image issues since he had recently had a gastric bypass. Although he was not fat anymore, you could see that he was still overweight. Gay men are vain, and I knew he wasn't Goldie's "type." What I wasn't paying attention to was the fact that this issue with his self esteem or self image was really a weakness. In retrospect, he probably allowed himself to bend to Goldie's will because he showed some interest and gave him a little attention. Goldie was incredibly adept at honing in on a person's weakness. (I did mention he was a stripper, right? Well, strippers know how to get what they want out of people). Now that I was in the picture, the roommate either wasn't getting the same kind of attention, or reality set in that his chances of getting with Goldie were incredibly slim to none. With that in mind, the roommate had given him until the end of the month (about a week) to find a new place. Goldie told me he didn't know what he was going to do; he had no place to go and was about to be homeless.

BREAK: Now this is the point in the story where some queen is reading along and says, "Oh Chile, please say it ain't so, no you didn't, NO YOU DIDN'T!" Well, yes. I did.

I can't say that I didn't know what I was thinking, because the fact is that I really wasn't thinking at all. I just saw someone nice who was in need, so I decided to help him out. That has always been my weakness (more blog entries to follow). I had an extra room in my house, so I told him he could crash there until he found a job and a place. Now, if you've been paying attention, you should be thinking to yourself, at what point was he actually actively looking for a job? He had been hanging out with me every afternoon. You also might have been thinking if he didn't have a job, where was he getting his money? If you weren't thinking these things, you're not alone, because I wasn't either! Two things that I learned right away; 1) you never really know someone until you live with them. 2) I learned just how little I knew about Goldie before I let him into my home. After dating for a little over a month, he was now living in my guest room (at least, that’s where he kept his belongings).

Until this point, all the time that we spent together was during the daytime, but now that he was with me all day, every day, I was starting to catch that feeling. No, I'm not talking about love and "not like crazy" (the kind that don't wash away with soap, thank you Jill Scott). I'm talking about stupid. I admit, I was weak, and I was starting to bend to his will just as the previous roommate had done. If he said let's do something, I was ride or die. When he wanted to go to the club, I said, OK, let's go! I was spending so much time with him that I was starting to neglect my own work. It got to the point where he actually had to remind me that I had work to do. When I was with him, time just didn't seem to exist, and I lost track of all sensibility. When I think back on it, I was so silly to let someone have so much control in my life. I even let him drive my car! Yes, I let him drive my car knowing he didn't have a job to pay for any damages should something happen (and it was a NICE car). The sad part is that this was not the first time, I fell victim to my own stupidity, but it was definitely a wakeup call.

Now, I have never claimed to be innocent, and one day, if I should ever decide to run for President, I'm sure people will try to use this entire blog against me. I believe in learning from life experiences, and I have learned plenty. I have smoked marijuana before, and I did inhale. I also tried Ecstasy (X-pills) on several occasions. I was young and recreationally enjoying my early-to-mid-20's. Aside from alcohol and a couple prescriptions, those are the only drugs I have ever done. There are some things that I just will not try, EVER (like crack, heroine, acid, meth, and a multitude of others). I don’t want anyone to think of my occasional indulgence as anything more than what it was. Those days are behind me anyway. However, one night, Goldie wanted to go out, and we both decided to do an X-pill together. That night, we went to a ghetto-fabulous club called Big Yo's, a place that has always been trouble for me, but you'll begin to understand that in another blog entry, so keep tuning in.

I’m not one to stay at Big Yo’s long, and Goldie and I were really feeling the pill, so we decided to go home and “enjoy” the effects. When we got back to the house, he pulled out this small baggie of white powder. Now, I wasn’t born yesterday; I know what cocaine is. And I won’t patronize you by pretending I had to tell you what it could possibly be. I had tried it twice, in fact. Two times enough to know that it really wasn’t my drug of choice. I was surprised however, that he even had it, since I didn’t realize he had picked it up. Apparently, he bought it when he bought the pills. After the two times that I did try it with some of my friends, I actually refused it when I was ever offered it again. It didn’t really do anything for me (probably because I usually tried it while I was rolling on an X-pill, so I didn’t notice the effects. But this was Goldie we were talking about. He offered, and I accepted. We ended up staying up all night and into the morning watching porn on the internet and having other private moments (use your imagination here).

PAY ATTENTION: This was a pivotal moment that everyone should take note of when dealing with drugs in their environment. It really doesn’t matter if you only use them occasionally, but by accepting, you are telling the other person that their behavior is okay regardless of how you really feel. I knew that I didn’t really like it, and I really wasn’t indulging in the drug use as much as I was indulging in the boy. But to him, I was indulging in the drug. In the perfect world, he would have known that I really only wanted him and his attention, but this world is not nearly perfect. This was the point where I set myself up for failure.

I’ll leave you here for the moment and pick up again next week with more of this story. Still to come:

How did Goldie Really Make His Money?
Meet the Parents
The Hurricane
Lesbian Crack Heads
And much more…

Helping Out A Friend

2010-03-11T10:59:00.000-08:00

OK, I'm giving everyone an opportunity to do something wonderful. My very good friend Chriss J from Sweden has been accepted into a dance program from the International Dance Academy. Sounds great, and it really is. However, it's expensive, so we're trying to raise money for tuition. A $5 donation can go a long way, so skip a couple Starbucks and help him out. He's a great person with huge potential. You can use the button above to donate to the cause.

Thanks everyone!

Eighty-five Percent (85%) - Part II

2010-03-09T13:17:00.000-08:00

New Year's Eve came around. It was time to close out 2009 and enter into a new decade and a new me. Over the previous couple weeks, I had been chatting with this guy from DC. We talked via messenger, video chat (nothing dirty), and telephone. He happened to be coming to Atlanta for New Years, so he asked me to hang out with him. I was reluctant to go to Chaparral with him (his suggestion), but hey, he came here and asked me to hang out with him, so I was cool with it. I must have been feeling myself that night or something. I am SOOO not the 'hoe, but I was about to break my vow of celibacy just for New Year's (yes, another yella boy with big lips and muscles). So I get to the club and walk in to find Mr. "DC." When I find him, he introduces me to one of his friends. This little 19 year old boy, who I clearly see is more than a friend. So, if you're paying attention and have been following along, you will recognize that I just met yet another asshole. I mean, how are you going to invite two dudes out to come hang with you? I don't get into that Atlanta freakishness in which some of these guys participate (those days are far behind me). It was so obvious his preference for young, thin, dark boys like myself.

So now, my mood went from "drop it like it's hot" to "I know this nigga didn't" in 2.5 seconds. At least he was buying drinks. After the clock struck 12, I stayed for about a half hour longer. I was over it when the 19 year old with the look of love in his eyes pulled Mr. "DC" to the dance floor and held on like he too intended to "drop it like it's hot" later that night. I wasn't about to steal his joy. I already knew what it felt like to be young and pull a sexy older man. So like Whitney Houston, I bowed out and went home. I can't believe Mr. "DC" actually had this look like "you're going to leave us?" on his face when I said I was leaving. He's lucky I even gave him the courtesy of telling him I was about to bounce.

Now, we are officially into 2010, and the time of the asshole has officially ended. My club crew call me, and ask me to go to Vita with them. Ummm OF COURSE! I mean, it is New Years weekend, and guys have poured into town from all over. Now, I'm not a 'hoe (I think I've made myself quite clear on that by now), but I am a big, no HUGE flirt. I'll flirt with anyone, and my friends know my infamous "come 'ere boy." Yes, I will look at a boy and say "come 'ere boy" in a heart beat... and they come. After the last three assholes in as many months, I was not even thinking of meeting another dumb-ass, fake-ass, hoe-ass dude. I walked in the club high on life and having a great time drinking water and flirting with anyone who was cute. After a few cycles around the over crowded club, I needed more water. As I approached the bar, I saw HIM.

I don't know what it was about him (aside from being another tall, yella boy with big lips and muscles), but something just drew me to him. I had to say something, so I walked right up and told him "you're so handsome." I know, I know, it was a line, but it was so true, and it's all I could think to say to him. I mean, how do you approach one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen? I certainly wasn't going to walk up to him and say "Sup?" He was nice, but I think he took my introduction for a flirt. He kindly said thank you, you too and went about his conversation with his friend. Me, I wasn't the same after that.

Let's be perfectly clear; I live in Atlanta, Georgia. You can go to a club any night of the week and see fine, sexy men dripping from the cracks in the ceiling. They come a dime a dozen, so if that's what I wanted, I had plenty to choose from that night. However, something stayed on my mind with him. He seriously interrupted my flow. I couldn't even flirt the same after that brief encounter. So I'm following my friends around the club, and they end up back at the bar and HIM is still standing there. I had to check myself and see if I was just imagining things, so I decided to have another try. He was receptive, and we sat and talked for a while this time. We had an incredible conversation.

I have only had this feeling one other time in my life, but this time was even stronger. Everything seemed like it just clicked and something deep down in my soul told me this man is mean to be in your life, don't let him get away. So, before I walked away, I asked him for his number. His reply was shocking. He told me no. I was crushed. I mean, how can you sit and have this amazing conversation and really seem interested and then let it go just like that. He tells me, "I believe in fate. If it was meant that you should have my number, I'll see you again." WTF? Now, I'm really feeling badly, because my close friends know that since I moved to Atlanta three years ago, I really stopped going out to clubs. Until recently, I only went out two or three times a year. So, I'm thinking, damn, another one bites the dust. I return to my friends and I tell them, "I just met the man I'm going to marry." I think they thought I was just exaggerating, but I was serious. I don't know what came over me or what it was, but no one made me feel like that.

[>>] FFWD to MLK Weekend

To do it justice, this entire weekend deserves it's own blog entry, so look for "MLK Weekend 2010" in the near future. But I'll summarize by saying that I ran into HIM that weekend, and true to his word, as soon as he saw me, he whipped out his phone, took my number, and texted me his. We ended up having a date that Monday MLK day, and I have to say that it was the BEST DAY EVER!

So I won't get into the details of our dates and conversations, but I'll just say that this guy is amazing to me. Knowing him is a blessing, because he really has shown me what I have been missing all this time. He has taught me what I truly have been wanting from a man. I have been seeking a perfect gentleman, a prince. But all this time, I've been kissing frogs... and vain gym rats, and cokeheads, and drunken Asians... It's not for me to share anymore about him, but as time progressed, I learned more about him and I realize the reason he refused to give me his number the first time was that he wasn't willing or able to pursue a relationship at the time. He had been intermittent with returning my communiqués, and when I confronted him about it, he says,

"Well, c'mon, I've at least been responding at like 85%."

That statement really pissed me off, and the more I mulled it over, the angrier I got. In the back of my head, I was thinking, "I know this nigga didn't just say he was giving me 85%." I really respect him, and aside from this statement, and 85% hit or miss correspondence, he has treated me with the utmost respect. I wanted to make sure that I kept him in high esteem, so I decided to take another note from my girl Whitney Houston, and bow out (girl, you did it with that one). We will still see each other if that's what he's willing to do, but I'm going to be the gracious one and try to patiently wait for him to get it together. Now that doesn't mean I'm about to put my life on hold, but if he calls me up, I'm going to go out with him. He got the green light on the night we met.

So what exactly is the moral of this long narrative?

Well, in a perfect world, I would never have spent my New Years with an asshole, and my prince charming would be mentally, physically, spiritually, or otherwise available for me 100% of the time. Unfortunately, that is not the case. However, we must always strive to make our world as perfect as it can be. In so doing, I treat him like he is my man before he is my man, so he can see what he is getting. I am as kind and caring and loving as I would be if we were together. Since I met HIM, I realized that I have to prepare for and be receptive to love. I took a look at the state of my life and asked myself a question that I'm sure he must have asked himself. Am I really ready for someone to come into my life right now? I mean, what do I really want? I nice house, two fancy cars, a dog, a kid or two, a life partner that is in it for the long haul, unconditional love, attention, affection, (great sex), financial stability. If he came today, would I be ready to start the rest of my life with HIM? For me, the answer is yes.

There is always some growth that two people do together, but for the most part, my life is in order enough to share it with someone. HIM will test everything that I believe in and that I'm made of. I believe patience is truly a virtue, so I must be patient and wait for him to get to the point where he feels he needs to be. I must be supportive of his wishes, because if he really was my man, I would have to offer him that same support through the good and bad times. HIM will test my faith. If you believe in something to the core of your soul and you let it go, will it really come back to you? I believe that you should know what you want, and now I do know what I want. I want HIM. Finally, I believe that you should never settle for anything less than what you want. For me, that means not settling for 85% when I know I give and am worth 100%.

Welcome To My Perfect World

2010-03-09T09:21:00.001-08:00

I've been meaning to start a blog for years, but now seems like the perfect time. I titled this blog, "In A Perfect World" because we always imagine what life would be like in a perfect world, but all too often, we never try to make our world as perfect as it can be. What does that mean, exactly? To me, that means that we should always strive, in everything we do, to make it perfect, to put our best foot forward, to make our best effort. We can only live in a perfect world when each of us seeks perfection in our individual lives.

In the coming days, months, years, or however long this blog shall exist, I will be describing events in my life or in the world, my personal opinions, advice, or experiences from my past and present that have relevance today. They may be intellectual, comedic, or just plain off the wall, but they are genuinely me. I am a story teller at heart, so I hope you all find what I have to say helpful, enlightening, gripping, or just plain gut-busting funny. In any case, please enjoy and feel free to reply or comment.

The Waddle and the Walk

2010-03-09T09:20:00.001-08:00

It seems that everywhere I go in Atlanta, and probably all over America, people have abandoned the walk for the waddle. There used to be a time when young people would get dressed up and promenade down the sidewalks with their dates, arm-in-arm. Men would tip their hats, and women never left the home without at least three pieces of jewelry (earrings, necklace, and rings). On Sundays, the city became a fashion show where all the latest styles were on display up and down the main streets in US cities across America. Personally, I believe the entire world is your runway, and I smile with my eyes everywhere I go. However, today, ATLiens and Americans alike have difficulty smiling with their eyes because they are too busy looking at the ground. Why is this, you might ask? Well, allow me to explain my theory about the waddle and the walk.

Now before I continue, let me first take a moment to diffuse the uncomfortable tension some may have from reading what is to follow. There is a thing called political correctness (PC for short). Now for the most part, I believe that we should be PC or at least as tactful as possible. I'll make every effort to be the latter and make no promises toward the former. I just want to be real about some issues, and I'm sure that as adults we can all come to grips with reality, so please allow me to write freely. (End disclaimer)

So today I was walking through Lenox Square Mall, as I do most days on my lunch hour-or-so, when I noticed a woman who appeared to be struggling to pull of a clean walk. Apparently, her thighs were rubbing her into a waddle. I'm a people watcher, and today I just happened to notice she wasn't alone. Everywhere I turned, people were waddling... Well, of course my walk is fierce, so myself not included, but I'm sure you will soon understand what I mean.

Many people's asses have spread to unimaginable proportions, and this exaggerates their waddle. Black women, especially, have to worry about the "black girl booty" turning into a "badonk." To all of my pale-faced friends, if you don't know, I'm telling you now that the ass is revered among black men. Let's just face it; black women (and men) pull off the perfect ass much easier than our counterparts of any other race. That certainly is not meant to diminish the ass amassing power of any racial group or suggest in any way an ass superiority complex, but let's be real. How many times have you walked past a black woman and said "DAAAAAAAAAAAMN!" when you saw her ass. But we must also note that when the ass becomes too rotund and approaches badonk status, black women (and some men) run the risk of waddling to keep up with all that ass. This was the case today with the woman from earlier.

As I continued through the mall, headed to the food court, I saw another odd waddle. This time, it was much more duck-like in the sense that the ass didn't have to move from side to side to generate forward momentum. Instead, the legs actually had to be spread apart to achieve the desired effect. In this new instance, a young man/boy who must have been in his early 20's waddled because his pants were too far down his ass to pull his legs together. I would love to have assumed that in this deteriorating economy, the price of belts has increased so dramatically that young people choose not to buy them, but his Ed Hardy belt was quite fashionable. Had I been in a different setting, I would have given him two snaps and a waffle cone (*snap* *snap* *drippin' down to the floor*).

I'm sure some people would assume that the issues I have addressed today pertain primarily to the black community, but this is a fallacy. Just yesterday, I was at 5 Points train station where I noticed two white guys with their pants hanging just as low. You would be correct to assume that they both had a distinct waddle from their pants being too low. This epidemic has spread as far as hip-hop will take it, from Texas to Toronto and beyond.

I won't simply attribute the waddle to an overabundance or gross lack of ass. Bellies, by far, have stripped today's Americans of their graceful strides. Some bellies are so large that the arms won't rest properly at one's sides allowing for the proper range of motion to promote a sickening swagger like that of our newly elected President, Barack Obama. Since the arms won't sway back and forth, forward momentum alternatively is achieved by waddling the entire body from side to side. Pregnant women seem to suffer from this type of waddle just as much as beer guzzling men.

Now this is by no means a criticism of anyone. I believe that people should be comfortable in the skin they're in, and if you like it, then I love it. This is simply an observation of our diminishing effort to present ourselves with the best foot forward (pose, change, pose, smile with the eyes, turn, chassé, sashay). After reading this, my only aspiration is that someone will take from this a simple lesson: The world is your runway, so WALK BITCH!

Eighty-five Percent (85%) - Part I

2010-03-09T07:43:00.000-08:00

So aside from my very close friends, I don't really talk too much about my personal life and what's going on with me to very many people. I'm sure the person in question, should he ever find this blog, will know this particular entry is in reference to him, but not necessarily completely about him. Earlier this year, I met someone who I believed I was destined to be with. Destiny has a funny way of working out, and although I put my interest in him on pause as of last night, I still believe that there is something in store for us in the future. He's a great guy, and all that I could ever ask for. I just hope that one day he sees what I see and takes charge of our destiny.

But enough of the mushy stuff, let's get back to reality for a second and talk about what brought me to the decision I made.

Mantra No. 1: Never settle for anything less than what you want.

Now if you don't know what you want, then you will always be settling for something, so the first thing anyone should do is take some time to figure out what it is they want out of life, the moment, a situation, a relationship, whatever. Just picture it in your head; visualize yourself with it, and then think about ways to achieve it. I used to settle when it came to dating. I settled for a guy cheating on me, because he looked like a model and the sex was amazing. I settled for another guy's nasty drug habit and violent behavior because he gave me the affection and attention I needed at the time ("Goldie"). I even settled for a complete asshole (Mr. "Stay Tuned"), and I'm still trying to figure out what he had that I couldn't get from somebody else (including the muscles). The list goes on and on for ways in which I settled, but I think my true weakness has always been these damned tall, yella boys with big lips; I find a way to settle every time.

Background Story (Setting the Stage):

I guess, when I think about it, I have always known what kind of life I wanted to live and what I wanted to achieve professionally, socially, and domestically; but I never really knew what type of guy I wanted to spend my life with until now. After the first time I dated Mr. "Stay Tuned," I took a vow of celibacy. (Yes, you read correctly, "the first time.") I took some time to focus on me, but I really wasn't happy. When you date someone and see them all the time for months, you start to develop a dependency for their company and affection. To cut this off abruptly is just as disruptive to your life as quitting any other addiction, regardless of the type or quality of the relationship. One should be careful around this time, because you can easily be susceptible to falling into another bad situation simply because you are trying to fill a void in your life.

Almost a year had passed when I decided to try something new and I stepped outside my race for an Asian persuasion. Well, let me preface that by stating that we met a few years prior when I dated the infamous "Goldie." I always thought he was a nice guy, but we never really took it anywhere. I was determined to do this the right way this time. Since he lived in another city, I invited him to visit for a month and just try things out, because I wouldn't even consider doing a long distance relationship. He ended up staying for two months, and in that time, I realized I had been duped! It's easy to hide your imperfections when you only see someone for a couple of hours at a time on a very irregular basis. I came to find that this angel was a nasty, classless, tactless, drunken hoodrat. Yes, the Asian was a hoodrat and a drunk!!! Moreover, he was another asshole. I was really upset that I broke my vow of celibacy with him and the sex was WACK!!! Needless to say, that ended with a flight back home and no additional contact. This was the first person that I actually removed from my Facebook friends list. In retrospect, it was one of those WTF were you thinking moments.

As crazy as it seems, the day he left, out of the blue, Mr. "Stay Tuned" sent me a message asking me how I was doing and telling me he missed me; wanted to see me, etc., etc. Now I didn't end things with Mr. "Stay Tuned" because he was an asshole to me; he was an asshole to other people, and I felt he lacked compassion. He was just selfish when it came to me. He wasn't giving me what I needed, and I was tired of bending to his needs with no flexibility on his end. He had his moments when he was very sweet and affectionate. I guess the time between us softened my feelings and I suspected this time, he was ready to actively participate. I know it was kinda dirty on my end, but he already knew the situation, so yes, I invited him to come over on the eve of the Asian's departure.

The night he came over, he was the sweetest man I could ever know. I mean it seemed like he made a complete 180 degree turn from the last time we spent time together. He was attentive, and romantic, and sweet. I even wore the underwear he bought me and was surprised to discover that he wore the underwear I bought him...

(OK, [ || ] Pause: That's as far as it went, we didn't get THAT intimate, because I had reinstated the celibacy vow before the Asian even left, and it will be in effect until I find someone worthy of all I have to offer... OK, [ > ] Play)

For the next month, things were going great. I was even telling my friends how he had changed. But for some reason, the only time I saw him was at my house. We never went anyplace or did anything aside from him coming to my home to hang out. Then came his trip to Chicago. Some dude (they always call them a friend) flew him up to visit. When he returned, he posted the pictures from his trip on Facebook. I was actually excited to take a look and see how he enjoyed his trip. Did he not think I wouldn't notice that one pic where you can see the two of them holding hands? I mean, seriously? After his return, I didn't hear from him for a couple days. What's up with that? I'm thinking, OK, we're not in a relationship, so I'm not really mad at you for being a player, especially since I had already heard rumors that you were a whore, but I decided to call him out on it anyway. After a couple weeks of silence, I sent him an instant message and asked him, if he's, all of a sudden, after all this time, missing me and wanting to hang out with me again, why don't we ever go on dates or why doesn't he ever take me out? His response, "Stay Tuned." YES this nigga told me to Stay Tuned! That was the last time we spoke. I closed the IM window and never contacted him again. I was so pissed, I think I probably talked about that comment for a week.

After Mr. "Stay Tuned," I thought all men were assholes. I mean, I had dated two of them back-to-back, and in my past experiences, there was only one man who I can say truly treated me the way I wanted to be treated. So, I decided to just take a break from dating altogether and focus on me. I was doing a great job until New Years weekend came around.

(End of Back Story and End of Part I)