I'm no clairvoyant or a woman with sight beyond sight, but I'd been having crazy dreams and weird thoughts. I'd just started a new job at yet another car dealership. I know the money is good in selling cars, but it does damage your soul if you work for the wrong people. Yes, I'd taken a job with the wrong people.
But it was a Christmas present that I'd given to someone that had set the tone for 2016.
A pair of Timberland boots.
My mother always said that if you give some one shoes, they will walk out of your life. She left out the part about the parade and second line that they do across your heart. When I give a gift, I actually want one in return. I know, it's better to give than to receive, but I can be petty and selfish. Trying to work on that in the New Year.
I got a kiss on the cheek and some meaningless sex. As the New Year rolled in, I sat on my sofa —alone and pissed. My best friend and I had just drank apple Crown and cheap champagne swearing that 2016 would be different.
Maybe we should've been more specific in what we wanted 2016.
Fast forward to the last week of January, 2016. I had the pleasure of spending time with some of the best writers in the world in Destin, Florida. The road trip was awesome. Five black girls in a Jeep driving around the south in a world that couldn't possibly take Donald Trump seriously as a presidential nominee. Shit, Hillary got this.
On the way back to Charlotte, I confessed how much I loved this guy, who I thought was mine. All mine — in my Eliza Hamilton voice (Google it!) .
When I returned home, I was set to start another job that Monday — at a car dealership where my car sales mentor was working. Two things about my car sales mentor, he's my brother and has a beautiful family. Bonus thing about my car sales mentor, he had the most amazing name for a hero! *Jackson Franklin*
Started work at another dealership where things were supposed to be awesome. Alleged man of my dreams was always in my text messages.
Then, the first Sunday I had to work at the new dealership, I got phone call from said man of my dreams. I said hello and got nothing.
Hung up, thinking that it was a butt dial. I was trying to sell a car so that I could get some money to update my website and order some swag for my Rumor Series.
In my mind, I was ready to become a full time writer with an Obamacare insurance policy that I would be able to pay each month.
A second call came in from the so-called man of my dreams and woman asked, "who is this calling my husband?"
I was flabbergasted. Because the man who this number belonged to was single and he was my man.
But, I'm petty and a low key asshole. So, I said. "Ask your husband."
When she tried to get jazzy and said,"Look, you no self-respect having . . ." I hung up. At this point, I was wondering if this was his ex wife. Then I was like, what the entire fuck is going on right now.
And I was supposed to go on with selling cars?
Yeah. No. I was broken.
Seriously torn apart.
This was the plot twist in a romance novel that I had no desire to write. I'm like, this bastard was just at my house picking up his Christmas present. Had sent me roses, talking about "I love you." Where did this wife come from?
The next day, I sent a text — Oh, you're married now?
The response was stranger than fiction:
I don't know why I did this. But I'm not with them now.
Obviously, you are if she called me? Fuck you. You are dead to me now.
Next thing I knew, I was in the bottom of a vodka bottle ever night and forcing myself not to drive to his house and do harm to this enormous piece of shit.
|Coming Feb. 1|
On the flip side of my personal hell, Rumor Has It, was becoming a hit. When I had military veterans praising the character of Jackson Franklin, I was able to focus on what had become the most important thing in my life — writing. I knew if I retreated into my world of fiction, I'd be just fine.
Then one Thursday in April, I was having lunch with my BFF and the news broke.
Prince Rogers Nelson had died.
Anyone who knows me, knows that Prince has inspired my clothing choices, how I write love scenes and so much more about my life — even how I pick my friends.
I just knew this was going to be the worst year ever. My heart was already broken and then PRINCE died. Prince.
I woke up that day and I knew I could no longer linger in the hurt that an asshole caused because something significant had happened.
Prince was gone.
My sorority sister took me to see Purple Rain on the big screen for the first time.
I realized that I didn't want to sell cars anymore.
And I knew that the one who broke my heart was not worth me killing my liver with vodka, fireball whiskey and apple crown.
I focused on things that mattered. Writing. Family. Me.
But,if I'm honest, I will admit that I messed up a lot of things along the way. I took out my heartbreak and anger on the people who loved me the most. For that, I'll be eternally sorry.
BUT, LIKE HAMILTON:
I wrote my way out!
I wrote about the love that I'd knew I would never receive. I even promised myself that I would never open myself to feelings again. But as they say, when we plan, God laughs.
My professional life took off. And I realized that, I love love. How can I not?
My parents were married on Christmas Eve. If that isn't the most romantic love story ever, then I don't know what is.
I wasn't going to allow some asshole to make my heart shrink to the size of a pea when I grew up in the shadows of love.
So, as this harsh year ends, I'm thankful to be alive and have and have chance to find a love of my own in the new year.
Happy New Year!