Waiting for the other shoe to drop
By Cheris Hodges
This is what I don’t understand about married men or men in committed relationships – why isn’t one enough? I’m about to tell an old story, girl meets boy, girl falls for boy and girl gets cheated on. This has happened to me more than once and it’s getting tired. Very, very tired.
Before you tune me out, I have to say, I’m not bitter—anymore. Oh, I had my bitter periods around 1999 through 2003. But these days, I just want some clarity. How rude of me, my name is Mimi Collins. I’m a researcher by trade, but these days I’m an unemployed sister with a lot of time of her hands. Too much time.
Because of this time I was able to find out that my current boyfriend, David, was cheating. Was I shocked? Hell yes. How was it possible that the man I’d loved for the last two years cheated on me? I thought I did everything right in this relationship, got to know him before hopping into bed with him, spent time with him getting to know what he liked and didn’t like. Seeing what we had in common and he introduced me to his family. This was supposed to last. Well, shit didn’t work out that way.
I should’ve known something in the water didn’t compute when his “female friend” called me a bitch for no reason. I didn’t know this girl, but all of a sudden, Michelle started showing up. This hefty heffa actually walked in his townhouse one Sunday afternoon as if she was supposed to be there. His response?
“Then why do you call her your friend?”
“I’ve known her for like 20 years.”
“Are you two fucking? Is there something going on with you and Michelle?”
“No,” David vehemently denied.
If ever there was a red flag waving, it was right then. But I pushed the flag to the side, telling myself that he’s never lied to me before. But like grandma used to say, there is a first time for everything. That day was the first time I caught him lying to my face. In that moment, I had a Shun flashback.
Shun would make a great politician because he lies without a conscious and will spin it like Mitt Romney talking about a tax break for the rich. Shun and I met in high school, but we weren’t high school sweethearts. Our “love” affair began when he returned from the Army. He was fine as frog’s hair, tall, pecan tan and muscular arms that I wanted wrapped around me. Clothing optional.
In hind sight, Shun and I never dated. We had sex on a regular basis and at some point, I confused my heart with my clitoris and I thought I was in love. When he was sent overseas, I wrote him (back before everyone had emails and Facebook pages) long letters and sent care packages. In returned, I received some of the best fiction ever. Letters from Shun about all of the time we’d spend together when he returned to the states. How we’d go to the beach and make love on the sand. I went out and bought a bathing suit in preparation for the trip that never happened. When Shun came home, I got trip to the no tell motel and condom stuck where the sun doesn’t shine. Imagine how embarrassed I was in the OB/GYN office the next morning. And that jackass didn’t even go with me. But I digress. Off and on for nine years – yes, nine years—I tried to make Shun love me. I confessed my love to him so many times that I could’ve been a broken record. Not once did he say, “I love you too.”
Instead, I was told, “I got love for you.”
My dumb ass thought that was enough and at some point, he’d love me as much as I loved him and we’d be married. Then I woke up. Shun laid it out to me – but I was too blind and silly to believe him. He said he didn’t want to get married. Said he wanted to be single. What I heard was he doesn’t want to get married right now and he just wants to be single for a few more years. After all, whenever Uncle Sam deployed him, I got a letter. I got promises and pipe dreams. When he returned home, I got his ass to kiss. My ah-ha moment came after some soul searching and yoga.
Two days earlier, I’d received a letter from Shun. He’d been deployed to some Middle Eastern country. It was a short letter that talked about football, the weather and some other bullshit. My first response had been to write him back. But I got a phone call from my best friend, Lauren. She was coming into town and wanted to stay with me. My penthouse was a complete mess. So, I put the letter aside and started cleaning. The next day, Lauren showed up and we headed to the phone store because her battery wouldn’t keep a charge.
To Be Continued. . .