FAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

his daughter is in the hospital right now and has been for the past two days with some sort of infection they detected in her urine right now she's getting all of these tests so they have to keep her there for most of the week Obama has been at the hospital most of the time and stayed there last night with his daughter's mother this morning he informed me that they had a long sit down and now he is cinfused and feels like he needs to try again to work things our with her for the sake of the chil I understand it and respecthim for it but given what he's tol dme about their relationship both pre and post chil I doubt if it will owrk he says he enjoys every minute with me and doesn"t want anything to change I told him I can"t go back to being what he does Friday nights after the club closes and he said he'd never expect me too I said well if your working on your family you should do away with the side pieces anyway He said I was never a sidepiece and was always more to him then that and he never meant for me to get hurt but he doesn"t want to drag me along in his shit Now I'm going to go to the river and hope the pain washes away with each wave i see...

Fin.

So "The Killer" and I are done. I saw him yesterday and he lied to me about something really minor. I'm old enough and wise enough to know that when dudes lie about minor shit, it's usually to cover up major shit. I don't have the time, energy or patience.

Him lying in conjunction with how "us" have been lately ...yea, I'm deciding to throw in the towel now- when I'm confident I can do so without breaking down from it. I can get over him quick right now because shit's been off for a few weeks anyway and I've been putting the ice blocks around my heart(that he'd melted) back up slowly since it started mentally preparing to have to get over him. The fortress is almost fully rebuilt, my friends, let us rejoice and be glad in it.

There's no doubt in my mind that there's someone else, and I'm not sitting around while he plays us both. Nope, she wins the loser, not I. What was the lie you ask? He popped up with a new car out of nowhere...then proceeded to wash and wax that bitch with me sitting in it. One thing "The Killer" is definitely not is anyone's stunt dummy so I knew it wasn't "his boy's" as he had told me the night before when he'd said he'd come get me and I declined. I asked him who's car it was this time (assuming it was the same car from the night before, "his boys'" and he instead said it was a rental. Ummm....rental car keys don't usually have price cards for Stop and Shop and Shoprite on the keyring. Fuck I look like believing that bullshit??? Further investigation revealed a registration with a chick's name on it. A name that I'd heard in passing before while he and I were on the phone and one of his nephews asked him where Prada (his dog) was. He responded at "N***'s house". I ignored it then because N*** could have been a number of females in his family. And, to be all the way real , he was never my man, nr I his girl and if we started sharing stories of how many other people we were dealing with besides each other, I'm sure my numbers would have matched his. *kanye shrug* Hey, we were never a couple.

But if that was the case, and N*** was a family member (as I'd assumed originally), why blatantly lie to my face??? So after I see the registration, I ask him how long he's had the "rental" he tells me a few days and he and his brother have been sharing it...and he has it until Tuesday or Wednesday....oh so you just gonna keep on lying right to my face, huh? Ok, cool.

I let him know that I wasn't buying it and he tried to flip shit and get mad on some "If it was some chick car I'd just tell you blah blah bah." Whoa...who said anything about a chick? lol Dude, please stop trying to convince yourself that you're "that Dude". You know, the guy that will tell chicks shit straight up because he knows he's doing shit on the up and up and he's not trying to play with any one's feelings. You. Are. Not. Him. You are a snake. Period.

I can't be with someone that can look me dead in my eye and lie to me. Crazy thing is, it's not the being lied to part that fucks with me as much as it the insulting my intelligence part. Don't do that. Two things I've never been called in my entire life is stupid and ugly. Please don't take my intelligence for granted and please don't have me waste my pretty on you. I'm done letting "The Killer" do both.

On to the next one.

Sorry boys, the bitch is back.

Coming up...."Introducing "Victim #1" aka "Enigma's New Boytoy"...yea....

A Teenage Love Affair (The End)

In no time at all "Pookie" and I had ditched our significant others and were back on track and together. This time things were different. In our short time apart, I had changed, and because of that, we changed. For starters, I stopped bringing an entourage with me to visit and he stopped having his crew there when I arrived. We were spending way more time alone with one another, a privilege we had not been afforded often when we were together prior. We also began to spend more time on the phone. I guess you can say our love affair matured.

We spent the next nine months or so as a certified couple. We still hadn't had sex and it seemed like a non-issue. There was one time when we'd set up a day/time to make it happen, but I got held up doing family stuff and by the time I got there his house was crowded. Amazingly we never rescheduled. I said before that I never knew of him having a girl brsides me and this time around was no different. I would come up at random times and he'd always be where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to do. There was never an instance that I can remember of another girl calling my phone or anything and he never seemed to be hiding me, nor did he ever tell me that I couldn't come up there.

This new "grown-up" relationship that we had also ment that I was forced to meet the rest of his family that he stayed with (besides Moonie). This included his female cousin, Dawn. Dawn was Moonie's sister and maybe just a year younger than he was. For some reason, she never really took to me. I used to joke with my friends that she treated me like she was jealous that I got "Pookie" and she was stuck just being his cousin. Looking back, I think perhaps Dominique was her friend and this is what led to her nastiness...? IDK and there's no way for me to find out now, so...fuck it.

Anywho, Dawn never outright came out and said she didn't like me, she would just do things like tell me he wasn't there (when he was) when I called for him. This would usually lead to him calling me back two seconds later asking if I'd just called there for him. Or she'd have a million things she needed "Pookie" to do while I was there, thereby making it impossible for us to be alone.

I tried not to let her shit get too me too much and eventually found ways to avoid her all together. I noticed that if I called and asked for "Moonie" first, she'd just give him the phone with no problem, I'd then have him give "Pookie" the phone. Of the drama of a teenage life... smh

About eight months after we'd gotten back together something in "us" changed to where I felt like I needed to "test" him. Looking back, it doesn't make sense to me, and I want to chalk it up to being young and dumb. I'll have to look at my early volumes of diaries to try to recall what happened to make me feel that I could no longer trust him. But in any case, like I said, I felt like his devotion to me needed to be tested. So, me being a dummy, had one of my friends call him and act like she liked him. She used a fake name and pretended to know him thru a friend that messed with a friend of his. Needless to say, the situation got way out of control. The girl that I'd gotten to call him turned out to be a snake and stole his number without my knowledge and would call him behind my back. This of course took a toll on our relationship because he never mentioned his "mystery caller" to me, so he got the perpatual side eye from me from then on. Now, I knew that he'd never met up with her or anything, but still...(according to her they were talking on a regular basis and never once did he mention that he had a girlfriend.)

Around the same time, I started spending more time with a guy from my class. We were only friends (he was like 5'2, about 75 lbs soaking wet and with rocks in his pocket and his breath smelled like ass--so trust-nothing at all was popping with him). Anywho, I never made it a point to hide my friendship with this guy from "Pookie"" as there was no need to. "Pookie" didn't agree and he'd catch an attitude anytime I mentioned that I'd stayed after school with the guy or went to the mall with him or anything.

One night "Pookie" had called me. He'd said that he was headed back outside to play dice, but wanted to call me before it had gotten too late. Somehow we started arguing. I remember it as the worst argument we'd ever had, but that could just be because...

Like I said, we started arguing. I now think that maybe 'Pookie" took his guilt over talking to his "mystery caller" behind my back and tried to project that on me and blamed his new attitude on the time I was spending with my guy friend. Anywho, we argued. The only thing I remember about the specifics of the argument was when "Pookie" said "Well, I know when you can start spending more time with him...when I hang up."

He hung up, and that was the last time I ever spoke to him.

One thing I remember from the next day was me sitting in my living room looking at the fish tank and being angry that he'd never called me the night before to apologize. I had named one of the fish after him and at that moment I was so hurt and angry that I wished the fish would die. Somehow in my 13 year old mind, seeing that fish dead would make me feel better.

That night I called his house and Dawn answered the phone. When I asked to speak to him, she said ""Ricky died last night". I hung up disgusted that she would go so far with her games and just figured I'd speak to him the following day.

The next morning, I stopped at the diner across the street from my school to get a toasted bagel with cream cheese and jelly. While I was there I also bought the local paper. There on the very first page was a story entitled. "Killed over $5 He Didn't Scam". I read the article as I walked up the block to the school's entrance. As I got closer, my partner-in-crime at the time was walking towards me. I watched as her face went from happy to worried to panicked as she watched me drop the paper and start crying hysterically. She helped me into the school as she yelled for one of our other friend's to get our (8th grade) teacher.

Ricky Bradlee (my "Pookie") was shot and killed within an hour after he'd hung up on me.

Introducing: "Pookie" (A Teenage Love affair) Pt. Deux

I would like to re-write history and say that it took me a long time to get over "Pookie", but that just wouldn't be right. In reality, more so than any other emotion, I can vividly recall the extreme anger I felt. I think the main reason for me not being sad per se was because he was honest with me. In fact, sad as it is, I think he was THE ONLY man to ever be straight up with me and tell me to my face that he was leaving me for another woman. All of the others lied until I caught them with their dick in the cookie jar. I still had my in-school boo and I adjusted to not walking those 20 blocks much sooner than I even thought I would. I think the hardest part was knowing that Kat was still going up there and trying to find things to occupy my time while she was gone. (because I REFUSED to go back up there and risk seeing him.)

A few months went by and in that time I met a new dude. He wasn't that cute and he was dumber than a box of marbles, but he had a car, and I had places to go, so we worked out well. I didn't feel bad for using him for his whip because I knew that he was only trying to use me for sex. I held him off for as long as I could until the little girl lost in me said 'What the fuck is the point of holding out???' so I slept with him, it sucked and I didn't do it again. It seemed like after I realized the dick was trash, not even his shiny white car could keep my attention focused on him anymore. I started plotting how I'd break up with him and end our 2 month "relationship".

As if on cue, I received a call out of the blue from "Pookie" on day. He said that he had badgered Kat for my number because he missed me so much and wanted to get back together. When I questioned him about Dominique, he said that she was in NY staying with relatives for the summer and that she "knew what time it was" and wasn't returning any of his calls because she knew he was ready to break up with her.

Uh oh.... five o'clock... you know what that means... *pshooooooom*

To be continued....

Introducing: "Pookie" (A Teenage Love affair)

When I was in the seventh grade, my best friend at the time. "Kat" (who was two yrs my senior) had just gotten re-acquainted with her estranged dad and discovered that she had an older sister that lived in the same city as us. Let me say here that I was about 4 months shy of turning 13 around this time. I had lost both my virginity and my dad within the previous year, just months apart (another story for another day) I hadn't had sex since my first time, but that didn't stop me from being a boy crazy, hot-tailed little girl. I'm the baby of the family and was a fairly good kid. My older sisters were all out on their own and doing their own thing and my mom saw this as her opportunity to take a rest since I required minimal guidance (or so it appeared). I was living the good life- my sister made sure I stayed fresh, had spending money in my pocket and saw the latest movies and my mom made sure my room was fully equipped and the envy of my less-fortunate friends. As long as my grades stayed above average and i made curfew (which I didn't always manage to do), my mom gave me little to no boundaries.

Anywho, Kat and Oldersister developed a relationship and before long "Kat" and I were taking the approximately 20 block walk from our hood to visit "Kat's" older sister. At first it was just because we didn't have anything else to do and we knew that Kat's older sister would entertain us with stories of her live-in boyfriend and his crazy as friends. But, after a few weeks of us taking that daily trek after school and on weekends, we discovered an even better reason to make that block our second home...those crazy ass friends!!!. When I tell you that group was a preteen, boy-crazy girl's dream, I tell you all no lie. There were about six of them total and they were fione in their own right.

Live-In (about 26)- This was older sister's boyfriend and babydaddy. He was a cutie, but obviously off limits and a real family man, so we didn't see him much so we'll by right pass him to his little brother...

GreenEyes (about 17-18) - GreenEyes was Live-In's younger brother that lived right next door with the rest of Live-In's family. There family rolled deep... I think they had about 6 younger siblings, all extremely light and all with those green eyes. GreenEyes was probably the finest out of the whole crazy ass crew but that nigga was nuts. He once threw one of our friends down a flight of stairs for no reason at all, and tried to push my off of the side of a porch one day. (I was saved by his best friend and my boo, but still, he tried!!!). I quickly learned to stay clear of him an my boo let it be known that I was off limits as far as his antics.

Pookie *this was my actual pet name for him at the time* (about 18-19)- He was GreenEyes' best friend and lived in the apartment right next to Oldersister and Live-In. He was brown skin, about 6ft and had the sexiest, juiciest lips my 12 year old eyes had ever seen. He was more laid back than the rest of the crew and that intrigued me. It was not unusual for him to sit on the porch and shake his head as his friends showed their asses all up and down the block. You could tell that he was more mature than the rest of them and that probably had alot to do with the things he'd been thru in his young life. a life I didn't know much about save the knowledge that he was living with his Aunt and cousins because he'd "gotten in trouble". On maybe my second or third trip up to the block with Kat, he let the others know that he had his eye on me and made it his mission to make me his. It didn't take long for him to succeed.

Mooney (about 16-17)- He was Pookie's cousin and the silly one of the bunch, probably b/c he was the youngest. Mooney looked like his dad was Native American or something, his skin was a beautiful red tinted brown and he had the softest curliest jet black hair I had every seen on a black man. If he was around then we knew it wouldn't be long before our stomachs and cheeks were hurting from laughing so much. He and "Kat" soon developed a romance.

Black (about 21-22??)- Black was the OG of the group and in my personal opinion the cutest. He didn't even live on the block anymore, but came around every once in awhile just to remind folks that it was still his hood. lol Whenever he came thru, he and Mooney would keep us in stitches

There were a few others that dwindled in and out, but that was the core group of guys that Kat and I had in mind as we walk those 20 or so blocks every day. For the most part it was just the two of us going up there, but we had a few other girlfriends who would join us every now and then hoping to snag an older boo of their own.

Pookie and I developed a "relationship" that lasted about 4 months before things fell apart. I put the word relationship in quotes because it really only consisted of me going up there daily to see him and us hugging and laughing and kissing and chilling for a few hours each day. If I didn't go up there, I didn't see him. We didn't talk on the phone and there was no way his old ass was coming near my hood where an adult might catch wind of our torrid love affair. Plus, I had my in-school boo and I'm almost positive that he had other chicks too. . . especially since he and I never had sex and he never made it much of an issue.

Everything was fine until I walked up there by myself to see him one day and he invited me into the house. This in itself was weird as usually we spent out time together in the park down the street because his house was always crowded. Anywho, I go into the bedroom and there's a girl sitting on his bed. He tells me to have a seat and proceeds to tell me that the girl is Dominique, his new girlfriend. He said she was "there for him" and that he was sorry, yada, yada, yada. I storm out and he follows me to the front door. He tries to stop me from leaving so that he can apologize. He tells me he didn't mean to hurt me. I ask him "How long?". He tells me "About two weeks". I roll my eyes and punch his chest. I had just seen him two days ago and he was all over me, telling me how much he cared. I say "Well I'm sure you could have did something besides hugging and kissing all over me" and I leave out, slamming the door behind me.

Little did I know that that would not be my last time seeing him...nor would it be my last time losing him...

To be continued....

An Open Letter to "Mr. Big"

I had the unexpected pleasure of seeing a picture of Her today and, all hating aside, I am not impressed. I can see what it was that drew you to her though (didn’t we always joke about how you love the chickens?) lol From her blunt-blackened lips to her bra-less, saggy breasts, to the blotches on her exposed "cleavage" that heavily resemble smudges of newspaper ink {wash much, bitch? I keed lol} she is all that you desire and more (the rooster haircut was more than even I had bargained for). Being able to put a face to all of the many . . . interesting . . .things you’ve already told me about her has opened my eyes quite a bit.

As much as I hate to play prophet (though a facebook quiz I recently took confirmed that prophesy is my calling) I can see your future clearly. In another year or so, Her will be pregnant with your child (well, this won’t actually be able to be confirmed until the DNA test results are in, but let’s hope for the best, mmkay?) and two years from now you’ll be racking your brain trying to figure out how you got yet another Bonequisha-esque, hoodrat chick pregnant. You’ll be at home with all of your little “chicken nuggets” while Her is out at the club dropping it like it’s hot right next to your first babymom’s (whom I affectionately have dubbed “Chicken Hut”)

Now I understand why you and I could not be. Despite your claims that Chicken Hut’s hoodrat ways came as a shock to you (even tho in the every next breath you told me how she was 14yrs. old drinking 40’s when you met her), I can now see that that is what you like. It’s ok, really. As much as they enjoy it, not every man can handle a real woman. Some men need their woman to be out in the clubs every night, neglecting their kids, flirting with their best friends and taking days off from work so that the can get high. I now understand why our deep discussions on everything from the best rapper dead or alive to gentrification to the state of the black family or our mutual interests in the works of W.E.B Dubois, Karl Marx and Herbert Spencer or us being able to go from homies to lovers to confidants to (respectful) debating opponents was not enough for me to preserve your affections. I can now see why despite my ability to “ride” for you (without you even being my man for most of our time knowing each other) and notwithstanding the fact that my strength was something you have always complimented me on (along with my mothering skills, cooking abilities and oral techniques . . . but I digress). As I was saying, in spite of the fact that you labeled me “The BEST, hands down” in my sexual abilities, today I can clearly see why it was Her that you chose and not I . . . .


You sir, are a pussy.

Introducing: "Ex-fiance"

*Written for Myspace on 4/18/08*
***************************************

I'm a snitch.

I am.

I'm the youngest of four daughters, hell, for the first few years of my life, snitching was my only source of income. One of my sisters' boyfriends had a nosy ass moms who used to pay me for dirt on them, And me, being the eager entrepreneur, provided her with all the dirt she could shovel. That is, until my sister got a job. Sorry Mrs. B, but inflation's a bitch and she was talking big dollars plus candy. So, I switched teams and began getting paid not to snitch.

Some things never change.

Here I am, damn near 10 years later and I'm still getting paid not to break up happy homes (Read: tell on niggas.)

SMH

Fucked up part is, I don't play fair. I never have. But I make it a point to let muthafuckers know this from the door, "I tell, nigga!!!". And I'm picky about what I tell. My thug addiction has left me open to witness first-hand some things that are just wrong, immoral and yes, got damned illegal. But I don't tell on my boos.

But my neighbor, the one with the dog that he neglects and that I adopted and that was barking in the back yard all night for three fucking days straight? Yes, that nigga got the cops called him. Those little bad ass crooks-in-training who thought they could steal a car and hide out on my block like my neighbors and I wouldn't think four 12-yr-old, rusty-nail smelling bastids driving around in a Honda wasn't odd. Yep, dialed the cops from my cell as I stood in front of one of them giving him the death stare that I'm famous for. "Lucifer" who thought he could move to another state and start a new family while being thousands of dollars in arrears with child support and then send my baby a post card saying "Hey". Yep, took that return address and went straight to child support with it. And lastly, guys who know that I know that they have a girl/wife/baby momma that they shack up with and yet still insist on being up in my face. .. yep, I tells on them too!

But, as I stated before, I don't play fair. So yes, I'll entertain them and take what ever they give and let them try their best to wine and dine my panties off, all the while believing that I will be the down ass side chick who's just cool with them going home to someone else at night.

Until I get bored and/or she calls me.

Then, it's fair game. I'm telling 'errthing. Fuck I gots to lie for? Especially if my only real crime is taking advantage of the kindness of strangers stupidity of cheaters?
My ex-fiancé {he is only called this because he bought a ring and proposed. We never had an actual engagement and you'll see why in about 5 seconds}, a man who left me for another chick, proposed while he was still with said chick, (priceless!) and continued to call and profess his undying love for me even after the two of them moved in together, produced a child and all that other ghetto love crap, learned of my snitch status the hard way.

Recently, after about a year or so of us not speaking or seeing each other at all., he resurfaced. Since my Mr. is currently unavailable (I put that as a link so that you lazy bastards who have yet to request and subscribe to my other page can do so now and get the full story). I entertained the ex-fiance when he called a few weeks ago. He called out of the blue one night and rather than cutting him up the entire time like I usually do, I took a different route.When he went throught the "How's my lil' man doing?" crap that he usually does ( I shouldn't really call it crap though seeing as how he was with me when TLC2 was born and for the first two years of his life and has been more of a father financially to TLC2 than "Lucifer" even after we split, but I digress)

Anywho, when he started asking about TLC2, I played the "Lord what is I gon' do?" card and started bitching about tuition and T-ball fess and uniforms, rada, rada, rada. 3 days later, tuition paid.

Now, his girl friend and I have the same relationship any 2 females in our situation would have. In the beginning, I hated her for being a home-wrecking skank whore and she pitied/hated me for being the bitch her man kept running back or, as he his version went, the "crazy ex who couldn't let go". Then, as I began to get him out my system, I hated her for being a clueless skank whore who couldn't keep her man on his leash and she hated me for being the bitch her man kept running back to. Now, I'm amused by her for being a dumb, enabling skant whore who still can't keep her man on his leash but now is worse because she has to know that he really ain't shit but she's so afraid of losing that second income that she plays dumb like she don't know he's still a whore and couldn't possibly give a fuck about anyone but himself and his daughter and who is getting exactly what she deserves because she should have listened when ppl said "the way you get him is the way you lose him". And, in return she hates me for being the bitch her man keeps running back to who really doesn't even want him anymore but is willing to take his money and make him pay for being the sole reason that the winter of "03 is but a blur of tears and Tylenol pm.

So, long story short. She called me.

Her: Who dis'?

Me (laughing a hearty laugh and knowing exactly who it is since I'm with "Rocky" and I know it bet not be a bitch about him because I will gut a bitch like a fish if it is): Umm. . . Tasha, I think you have the wrong number.

Her: What? Who the fuck is this and how you know me?

Me: It's me Tasha. It's always me. No matter what you do . . . he just insists on keeping in contact with me. I tried to tell you. . .

Her: I know this is not no fucking "Enigma".

Me: The one and only. Now, what can I do for you?

Her: Just tell me if ya'll fucking.

Me (laughing): Oh no, we're definitely not fucking.

Her: So why the fuck is he calling you?

Me: Damn, funny how the tables turn, huh? Remember back when it was me asking you this and you said "Cause that's my dude", all the while fucking his brains out? Wow. . .

Her: So if ya'll not fucking, why is he calling you so much. This number is in here like ten fucking times.

Me: I know right? That nigga be beat as hell calling me all the fucking time, You need to get his ass a chew toy to keep him busy while you at work, shit!

Her: Alright look, I know we did you dirty back then, but the game is different this time around, we got a family and shit.

Me: silence.

Her: Hello?

Me: Yea, I'm here.

Her: Did you hear me?

Me: Yea, I heard that bullshit, I'm just trying to figure out why we're still on the phone.

Her: I just need to know what's going on.

Me: I'm not sure what you wanna know. I already told you I'm not fucking him. My days of sharing that dick with you are long gone. Trust.

Her (sounding defeated and truly confused): I just don't understand why he keeps calling you. He said ya'll were thru and that he didn't give a fuck about you. So why is he still blowing up your phone and shit?!?!?

Silence

Her: HELLO!

Me: Uh uh. . see now. . .don't start wit' that yelling shit cause you will get off this phone with a bruised ass ego. I already told you, I don't know what you want to hear and frankly this convo ain't nearly as amusing as I initially thought it would be so. . .

Her: Alright. Just tell me this. Have ya'll gone out or anything?

Me: "Out"? Hell to the naw, my boyfriend would choke the shit outta me if he heard I was walking the street with some nigga. Hell no!

Her: So why . . .

Me (actually starting to feel kind of sorry for the girl): Listen, he just checks in every now and then to see if me and my son are alright, that's all.

Her: Yea, I figured that, but why??? Why the fuck he worried about your house when he here. It ain't his responsibility to be looking in on ya'll like ya'll his family. That's not even his fucking baby!!

Me (taking a deep breathe, any trace of sympathy now gone because for some reason that shit hit a nerve): Alright listen, whether you want to acknowledge it or not, dude still sees us, me and my baby, as his family. And I doubt if he's going to stop trying to take care of us and make sure we're alright anytime soon. Now if I were you, I'd be less concerned about figuring out why he's still checking in on me and really try and ponder why it that your rent for this month is going to have to wait to get paid until next payday and what he did with that $930 instead.

Her: What? He gave you money???

Me (realizing that I have my own man and issues to worry about and frankly getting tired of holding the phone and kinda mad that I'm now going to have to rewind and start the episode of "Dirt" all over again cause this bitch can't control her emotions): Tasha I gotta go because I don't even want to compromise being the bigger person by rubbing shit all in your face as some kind of revenge. I'd be dead ass wrong for pointing out how ironic it is that when the two of you started fucking around, you made it a point to rub those funky ass air force ones that he bought you in my face and now here you are, 3 yrs later with your heart all invested in this nigga, a kid and still no ring and a late fee for your rent cause your man want to be paying tuition bills for kids he ain't even make and shit. I gotta go. But be sure to tell him I said "thanx" when he comes home.

Click.

She called back but I didn't answer.

He has since called to. He left me a message saying that he knew it was going to happen because even though he knew better than to store name and number in his phone, her seeing the number sooo many times and it not being stored was what tipped her off. He apologized for her calling and said it was fucked up that I told cause I could've just hung up on her. Apparently, he's going to let shit cool down for a few weeks before he tries to call me again, but I can just email him if me or TLC2 need anything and that it be easier for him to get shit to me if I would just be cool if she ever called again. (Cause apparently he has no plans on not keeping in touch with me)

SMH

Some niggas never. fucking. learn. . .


Fin.

"You have a nice life 2"

Mr. Big Saga Wrap-up

A week later I saw that his facebook status had changed to "In a relationship" and I shut down for awhile. So many things went thru my head, I can't even. . . .

Fast forward (again) to us exchanging belongings and me "discovering" that he wasn't in a relationship. (His explanation for changing it was that it was in order to repel a couple of girls on his friends list. At the time, he an I were not facebook friends because I had deleted him, so I didn't even get into how he disregarded my feelings. He truly didn't think I'd ever see it. Oh, and don't ask how I knew his facebook status had changed, just keep in mind that my incessant need to know what's going on keeps me busy.)

Anyway, after that night we talked on and off and I called him a few nights just to prove (to myself, I guess) that "Her" couldn't be all that if he was still dropping every thing and running whenever I called.

I stopped sleeping with him a few weeks ago, and he called every now and then. I was getting good at breathing without him around and tried to move on. I had accepted him as my facebook friend again, but was doing a good job at ignoring his existence. I didn't even update my status with him in mind. lol But, I lost my shit when I logged on and saw his status front and center: "Had a great day with my baby boo and her fam".

I dialed Sprint immediately and changed my number, I blocked and deleted him from my facebook page and last weekend I moved out of my apartment. I tried my damnedest to change my email, but discovered it would be too much work. I need to move on. I need for him to not have access to me. I am the only element that I can control, so I had to do every thing in my power to ensure that he couldn't reach me when he felt inclined to because I don't feel strong enough to not get sucked back in.

My test came just yesterday when I got an im from him:

Mr. Big (11.47am): Hi Tee
Mr. Big (11.54am): No hi?
Mr. Big (12.01am): You have a nice life 2

Now, I can't take too many kudos for being strong, because I didn't see the msg until after he had logged off. But, to my credit, when I did see it, I did't email him or im him and let him know why I hadn't responded immediately. I let it end at " You have a nice life 2".

As one of my favorite ppl would say: Time to rebuild this house of cards with Kings and Queens and get these Jokers out of here!

I think I'm ready to move on . . .

To Catch a Cheater Pt. 3

Baby momma and I text back and forth for a lil’ while after that. She said that he just denied everything and acted like he wasn’t really caught red-handed. I just shook my head to myself as I read her texts because I realized that my friend had been right. Even with all the evidence that she’d needed handed to her on a silver platter, she still wasn’t strong enough to do what she needed to do for herself and he children. A short time after that, she text me out of the blue to tell me how she had found out that he had given another girl a face-ride in her house (she got told this by the girl in question). She also told me that as she was texting me she was “in-hiding” because just a few days prior he had punched her in the face for not saying good morning to him. Tire of the bull, she left to pick the kids up from school and just never went back (TO HER OWN HOUSE). I had to wash my hands of it all after that because we never got to that level of dysfunction in my crisis intervention class and I wasn’t equipped to deal with it accordingly. I wished her all the best and proceed to my Dr.’s office that day on my lunch break to get tested for everything under the sun. Being that I had just been there for my semi-annual testing, my Dr. asked me what bought me back so soon. I told her point blank, I had layed with a dirty bird.


I saw Rocky a few weeks later walking down the street as my son and I got into my older gentleman friend’s* pretty navy blue Mercedes coup with all white leather interior and just laughed and laughed and laughed at the expression on his face.

Upgrade, Bitch! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

*Yes, the same one that does the magic tricks! lol

I think my heart just exploded

Mr. Big just changd his facebook status to "In a Relationship".

It's been exactly one week since he thought "we need some space".

Ouch.

Enigma & Mr. Big: Break-Up #1 of 1,650,880,540

Mr. Big and I continued to talk and get to know one another as the months passed and before long we made it official. I was living at home with my mother at the time and once my semester was over I realized that she and I could no longer co-exist peacefully. We definitely needed space. My oldest sister lived in East Bumblefuck, GA and was due to give birth to my nephew at any minute. I saw this as the perfect chance to put some distance between myself and my menopausal ass mother. Another one of my sister’s had just been STRONGLY “encouraged” by her doctor to take a much needed hiatus form her job, so she, myself and my child made plans to head south.

As expected, I felt some hesitation at leaving my newly blossoming relationship, but I had spent a greater part of my previous relationship catering to the wants and needs of the very guys that had broke my heart, so this time around, I was going to do what made ME happy and whomever I was with would just need to fall in line or roll the fuck out. To my delight, Mr. Big chose to fall in line.

We discussed my departure at length, the summer was just starting and I made it a point to let him know that if he felt he couldn’t keep the snake in the cage while I was gone, he should just let me know and we could call the whole thing off. He assured me that a few weeks was nothing and he’d be here waiting when I returned. *swoon*

Mr. Big and I talked on the phone several times a day every day while I was gone. Everything seemed fine until they clearly weren’t anymore. I asked him about the vibe change that I was feeling. I can remember the conversation just as clearly as if it just happened yesterday. I was standing on my sister’s balcony looking at the remains of a tree that had been struck by lightening in a thunderstorm just the day before. My newborn nephew had been home from the hospital for just a few days and I was in the process of making his bottles when Mr. Big had called, so I still had the spoon in my hand that I’d used to fish out the nipples from the boiling water.

I focused all of my attention and energy on that burned up tree trunk as he told me about how his kids’ mother had been going hard at trying to get him back. He then paused and let out a loud exasperated sigh. To this I responded, and it’s working. Not a question, more like just the obviously outcome. Love had never worked out for me before, so I had become used to the fact that it never would-no matter how right it seemed to feel. He said yes and we said our goodbyes. That was the end of me and Mr. Big.

A few days later I received a call from my financial aid advisor at my school telling me that they had not received a signed form indicating that I was accepting my financial aid package for the upcoming semester. After being told that this was something I would have to do in person and fax would not suffice, I booked a flight home to handle my business. Being that I was only going to be gone for a day or two, I left my son with my sisters and hopped flew home.

I was able to get my business at the school handled in less than 30 minutes and then realized that I was home and baby-free for the first time in awhile—time to get BUCKWILD. Lol I called up an older gentleman friend of mine who did the best magic tricks I’d ever seen- he could make the liquor in my cup appear again and again without me ever having to even think about my wallet! Lol He picked me up that night and we headed to the same bar in which I’d met Mr. Big. Now, let me be clear, the night that he and I went was in the middle of the week. The bar had more of a happy hour after work feel to it the night we went as opposed to the “Thug Night” extravaganza that it had a reputation for being on the weekends. So never in my mind did I think we’d run into Mr. Big there. But . . . we did. Older gentleman and I had been at the bar for all of 30 minutes when I got up to use the ladies room. It was on my way back to my seat that I noticed Mr. Big’s best friend sitting just a few stools down and right beside him. . . . yep, Mr. Big. Now though he and I were no longer together, and for all intents and purposes, he broke up with me, part of me felt guilty for being there. Or at least I did until he made a big show of sending some floozy across from me a drink to get my attention.

Done with the games, I whispered in my older gentleman friend’s ear that I was ready to get out of there and he and I made our way to the exit. He dropped me off home soon after and I could not get Mr. Big off of my mind. For some reason I was extremely concerned that he would think that I’d been seeing this guy while he and I were together and that was the farthest from the truth. I tried to fight it, but the urge to call him was too strong. So I did. But, forever a game player, I hung up after only letting the phone ring twice-just long enough so that my number would show on his cell’s caller id. My thinking was that if he wanted to talk, he’d call back, if not. . . .I never got a chance to finish that thought because my ringing phone interrupted it.

I could tell right away that he was tight. So I said the only thing that I could really think of, which was the God’s honest truth. “I called you because I wanted you to know that he bought me home and that’s it.” I could hear him loosen up on the other end of the phone. He then went on to tell me how angry he felt seeing me with someone else. He said his friend kept looking at him weird as hell because he’d never seen Mr. Big loose his cool over a female like that-ever. I told him how I didn’t expect him to be there and I didn’t go there to rub anything in his face. We both laughed when he replied ‘Well, I damn sure sent that drink to rub it in your face”. I asked what he was doing and he said he was at the all-night supermarket buying cereal and that he was coming to me as soon as he left there. I didn’t protest.

I’d been sitting in my dark living room while was talking to him, and still hadn’t made a move to turn on the lights or the television by the time he’d gotten there. I let him into the darkness and sat on the couch. He was still standing up trying to let his eyes adjust when something animalistic* came over me. I absolutely had to taste him. We had had sex many times since that first night, but I had had yet to open up too much sexually with him. I felt myself losing control as I reached for his belt buckle and undress him. I couldn’t stop myself. Once I pulled his pants down, I just sat back and admired the outline of his legs in the darkness. He had the most perfectly toned legs I’d ever seen. I moved in closer to him and just inhaled. I couldn’t believe that I was actually turned on by the sheer essence of him. I finally fulfilled the desire to taste him and we then made love on my mother’s couch. I can honestly say that from that night on. . . I was hooked.

* In hindsight, I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, the animal in me was coaxed out by those shots of henny I'd had at the bar just a few short hrs ago! lol

And I wish I never met him. . . .

*Written for Myspace January 9, 2007


I'm not sure if it's the knowledge that the dreaded Valentine 's Day is but a mere month or so away and I have yet to secure a patsy or that it is one of the few things noticeably absent from my comfortable, almost-perfect life right now. But whatever the reason, LOVE has been on my mind more than usual these days.

Now I'm not talking about the LOVE I reserve for my child, my Mom and my friends and family. I'm talking about that I-cry-when-you-hurt LOVE. That let's –run-our-errands-together-cause-we-don't-wanna-be-apart-for-too-long LOVE. You know . . . ROMANTIC LOVE.

Now, as I mentioned, currently my LOVE life leaves much to be desired (oh,don't cry for me Argentina, my sex life, however, is alive and kicking!). But, I've been decidedly out of LOVE for a little over 5 months now. The crazy thing is that despite the nasty, heart wrenching break-up, I never thought that I regretted the relationship. It was hands down the best relationship that I'd ever been in. In fact, if there is such a thing as a soul mate or a true LOVE, I know that my ex was/(is?) that person. It is for that reason that I was grateful for having even met him. So much so that during a rough patch in our two year relationship, instead of bitching and moaning about what a f*ck up he was, I wrote in my journal and thanked God for allowing me to have met my soul mate, even knowing at the time the he and I would not spend our lives together.

At that time and even for a brief time following our break-up, I truly believe that it was better to have LOVED and lost then to have never LOVED at all. Now I could sit here and write paragraphs and pages about how enchanted our relationship was but, honestly, I feel that doing so would only bastardize what we had. But what I will share is that my ex is the one person that truly knows me and not one of my many representatives and characters that I use to communicate with those around me. He knows Enigma, not hood-Enigma, or college-girl Enigma or the fully-loaded, I-don't-give-a-f*ck -Enigma . . . that man knows ME. All of my many faults and weaknesses that I guard from the world, he knows - and at one point in time he loved, accepted, understood, and could relate to them all.

It was my belief that just knowing that there was one person in this world who really, truly knew me . . . and LOVED me . . . unconditionally . . . despite my imperfections . . . was enough for me. Just having had the opportunity to experience a LOVE and connection of that caliber with someone was all that I needed. That is, until the days turned to nights, and the nights turned cold and then the parade of clowns started to plague my Friday evenings. Anyone who's been there knows that the dating scene in itself sucks. But to feel as if you're wasting your time looking for Mr. Right because you've already met him, and lost him.. .it's hard to not be discouraged.

On one hand, I now know that there is such a thing as a "true LOVE". But, on the other hand, as I lay in my bed alone at night I know what I'm missing. I know that my "soul mate" is out there, he's just not with me and he and I will never be together. Is it any wonder that sometimes I wish that I didn't know? That I didn't have the memories of our time together seared into my brain?

It's not possible to miss something that you don't know exists, but is it really possible to truly exist when you miss something so much? Is it really better to have LOVED and lost than it is to have never LOVED at all?

Yes, bitch, I told Harpo to beat you.

So, in light of the Rchriahhnais (what? not all power-couple name-splices are cute, ppl), I decided to dig in the crates back over on da S'pace and pull out a blog I wrote regarding domestic violence against woman. Now this was written May of '07 and I cannot say that my opinion on this has changed. Regarding Rchriahhnais specifically, I say that Chris Brown needs to be charged and get his ass wooped by a couple of men. I've played every scenerio in my head of what could have went down and each time he comes out looking like a big 'ole saggy, smelly pussy. (yes, I could have made p-word all pretty and put 5's instead of S's or something, but you will soon learn that this just isn't one of those blogs. Plus I am forcing myself to not be afraid of that word anymore.) But yea, he's a big 'ole douchebag. I'm saying, a backhand or something would have prolly sufficed to at least calm her down if she was wildin'. But 'ole boy waa-aa-aa-aaailed on dat ass! That shit just ain't right.

SMDH

Anywho, the blog is below and it features Mr. Big (he's the one I slapped, not the one I bit)

 {Sidebar: Didn't that last sentence make me sound massive badass??? lol}

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Since the end of my semester I have had the thought of abusive relationships on my mind. I hesitated in blogging about it because I am fully aware of the fact that my view of some cases of physical abuse aren't the most popular. But then I realized. . .when have I ever given a damn about someone disagreeing with me????

Anywho, those who know me are already familar with my stance on men hitting women: It is absolutely wrong and bitch-like for a man to even think about beating a woman. And doing so should lead to him being confined to a tiny cell with a Big man who likes other men for a looong time. That being said. . .I don't buy into the whole "It's never right for a man to hit a woman. . .blah, blah, blah." shit

Say what you want about woman being smaller and weaker physically. . .but c'mon. . .some of these chicks are just begging to get hit. {Sidebar #2: if ur feeling tight all up in ya chest already, please refer to the heading of my blog page* That's right, I said it. . . .some. women. ask. tobe. hit. Case in point, remember the scene in Baby Boy. . .when he was trying to leave but his girl kept trying to hold him and was hitting him and shit? Remember how he backhanded her ass? Yup, she had that one a comin'!

All I'm saying is, women who do shit like that. . .and provoke men and try to prevent them from walking away and putting space between each other should fully expect to get the taste smacked out their mouth. Please don't get me wrong, I'm only talking about these woman, not the ones that are getting the life beat out of them for no.damn.reason, other than the fact that their men are nuts. No, I am only talking about the woman who will go so far as to hit the man first and then be confused when they wake up 30 minutes later on the ground. Now mistake me not, I have done it myself. I smacked the taste out of my last boyfriend's mouth after I found out he'd been cheating. But. . .please understand. . .despite his size, I was FULLY prepared to fight that man. In fact, i smacked him just so that he would know I wasn't playing with him. He was fully aware of how I felt about women who hit men and I needed him to understand that i was ready to get it poppin. I still think I could have taken him if he'd hit me back. Only because i was that mad. . .being that angry gives you a superhuman strength like no other. He must've seen the crazy in my eyes cause he just walked out and didn't look back. lol That was the only man I've ever raised a hand to and even then, I would have been ready for whatever he thru at me as a result on my actions.

I truly believe that the fundamental difference between men and women is that women tend to be very v o c a l. They wanna talk shit out all day and all nite. Guys are more like "give me a minute to think, damn!". Plus, they're, for the most part, not too big on the whole arguing thing. So for a man and woman to be arguing heatedly and to have the woman physically prevent the man from leaving or even raises her hand to him? Yea, I can totally understand why she'd get her jaw tapped.

Now I know what some of you are think. . ."how could she condone that?" "You can't say something like that if you've never been in the situation" " Why must we always blame the victim?". To you people, I say. . .you are absolutely right. No, I have never been hit by a man, but I have had a boyfriend that thought it was ok to grab me, hold me somewhere against my will, pop up at my girlfriend's house to "take me home cause I was taking too long", the list can go on and on to the break of dawn with all the crazy shit he did in the short time we dated. Now this dude was 6'5", weighed 200+, stayed working it out at the gym and could pick my ole' chunky ass up with absolutely NO problem. But even with his size and strength being so superior to mine, I reacted ev-er-yyyy time he got out of hand. The most relevent time being while we were at his house and he tried to stop me from leaving to catch the very last bus home after he and I had argued damn near the entire day. He was grabbing me and was pinning me against the wall (and not in the good way schm). Then, as he had my hands pinned above my head against the wall. . he tried to kiss me. As if that situation was turning him on somehow. Freaked out by that, I did the ony thing I could do and BIT THE SHIT OUTTA HIS LIP. He yelled. Blood splattered. His female cousin who had been in a back room heard him yell, saw the blood, watched me gather my shit and then dropped me home on her way to taking taking his big dumb ass to the hospital. Yea, it was that bad. He had to get 7 (even though I am quite certain it was more like 11) stitches in his bottom lip. What can I say? I freaked out. And he paid the price for manhandling me, dammit! hmmph.

Plus, I was well aware at the time (I think I was like 19 or 20) that my mom had been abused by TWO of her husbands. That was not going to be me. So I had to make it clear to him that shit like that would not be tolerated. That ended us as a couple, and gave me a very good story to tell future boyfriends to come: I will fight to the death to defend myself and my offspring. It is my natural right.

It is because I feel this way that I also don't understand women that stay in abusive relationships. I know the general belief is that many women stay due to their lack of income, education and general ablity to support themselves independent of their spouse. I am also fully aware that the second assumed reason woman stay is due to lack of self-esteem. Bull! with all of the resource sthat we have these days, it is VERY diffucult for me to grasp the concept of "no options. In 2009? Word? (again, guess I just can't relate)

What do you think, is it as black and white as "Boys don't hit girls" or are there some hues of gray?

Ya know what?

I have too many damned blogs scattered across the web. So, in an effort to keep my mind off of Mr. Big's indefinate abscence. *tear* I'll be moving all of my blogs to this page this weekend. I'll try to keep them in some kind of order but. . . well, I'm not sure how I'll fair at that, so bare with me.

Time to get comfortable in the new digs!

p.s. He's coming tonight to do the whole "belongings exchange".


Dear Lord please don't let me cry in front of him. *SIGH*

*sigh* So can we talk?

Alright ya’ll I know I was dead ass wrong for starting a blog and then just letting the shit accumulate cobwebs. But trust me, I have a good excuse. What, you ask? I have been boo’d up and loving every milli second of it. But, just like a friend who stops going out with the girls on a reg when she gets new peen in her life, here I am writing and begging for forgiveness now that my boo is gone. :(

So, in my effort to move on and (hopefully) get this guy out of my system for once and for all (hopefully) *crossing fingers* I figured I need to do what so many do and blog it the fuck out from the beginning. Yep, the entire twisted tale that not even Myspace got the privilege of reading.

*sigh*

Here goes. . . .
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Begining of Enigma and Mr. Big: A Series of Unfortunate Events
It had been about six month since Ex-Fiance and I had broken up and I was doing what most would have in my situation: pAAArtying like a rock star!!! Now, prior to this breakup, I had been a fan of the notion that the best way to get over one guy is to get under another one, but this time I was trying the whole “me-time” thing. So guys were the furthest thing from my mind as long as I had a row dog and the bars were serving long island ice teas for cheap in the hood.

So I was oblivious to the guy across the bar from me who’s been staring since I sat down and who decided to leave at the precise moment that my bestie and I “slow motioned*” our way to the car. Just as I was about to slide into the passenger side seat, I heard something I very rarely hear from the opposite sex trying to holla: “Excuse me gorgeous. Do you mind if I take up a minute of your time?”. Simple? Absolutely. But when your used to hearing “I’m saying tho shorty what’s really good wit’ you???” ANYthing else sounds sexy.

So, I responded in a way I usually don’t. I actually stopped and gave dude an audience. Now, I must admit, he was not my type when I first laid eyes on him. He was big like I like ‘em, but I just wasn’t completely impressed by his face upon first glance. But, I liked his conversation and we exchanged numbers. He called me about an hour later. Now, usually this would have annoyed me, but again, his words had me. . .impressed. He said he’d only called me so soon after getting the number because he’s learned that certain woman believe the man should make the first call (and I do). Then he said that since he’d gotten that out of the way, the next call would have to be initiated by me and if he did not hear back from me he’d take it as a loss and keep it moving. If ever there were a “gotcha bitch” moment, that was his as far as I’m concerned! I called him the next day and we stayed on the phone for hours talking as if we had known each other for years. We had the most interesting and personal conversation I had EVER had with a member of the opposite sex. Talking to him came so easily for me, I really found my self saying things to him that I’d never said to anyone else, nor that I’d allowed myself to think. It just seemed so easy with him. I think it also helped that at that point, I was so “not beat” for the penis-havers that I truly spoke my mind with him. He got “Enigma” from day one, not a representative.

We continued to speak on the phone for the rest of the week and then one day he called and I told him I was at the bar (of course) where we’d met. He told me he was just a few blocks away and that he’d pick me up. He came in with one of his boys and the four of us (I had two girlfriends there with me) had a round. Now, let me take a minute to fill ya’ll in on a lil secret: I had been at the bar for at least an hour before the guys arrived and I had long since threw away that whole “don’t mix liquors” rule. (Remember this. it plays a part in how the night ends up)

Anywho, he and I eventually leave. We get to the car and he tells me that it’s his mother’s. ok, fine. I can deal with that. Once inside I take note of the air freshener around the rear view mirror that says “Princess” and the car seat in the back. Now, during our initial getting-to-know-you convo, he’d told me how he had two chirren by the same woman and that she and he had split after she cheated and he found out. H.S sweetheart gone bad and all that otha stuff. Ok, fine. I wasn’t planning on marrying the dude, so his baggage didn’t bother me. In fact, I’d decided that he would be the lucky guy to benefit from my 6-month drought. Ya girl was HORNY!!!! So much so that as he was talking about what it was about me that made him holla, I cut him and said “Cut the bullshit, you stopped me because you saw me and wanted to smash”. As he sat there with his mouth open trying not to smile at my brazenness, I continued “Ain’t no way you were in that bar, chugging henny and thinking about how interesting you thought my conversation would be. You wanna hit, so don’t bullshit me let’s make it do what it do.” ( I know. . *hangs head in shame* but that’s where I was at the time. I didn’t want to sit and talk about the future or anything, I wanted sex and he was there and did I mention I wanted sex?)

Twenty minutes later we’re in the hotel room making out heavily. He eventually goes down on me and I was excited because he almost it (I had to teach him to swallow during our later meetings) made me cum. At that point, only one guy had ever made me orgasm, no one else had even come close. So I knew that he had potential. I was only further impressed once he put on a condom and we got down to it. ‘Ole boy was blessed and knew what he was doing with it. Good combo. Mama was please. Lol

About 10 minutes into it, he stopped and said he had to use the bathroom. When he came back, he told me how he’d been to the doctor earlier that week and that he’d been having problems keeping it up do to it I can’t remember exactly what it was that he said was wrong, but I remember he said he had to drink lots of cranberry juice and we went back and forth with me asking questions making sure it wasn't an STI..it was more of a urinary thing. Anywho, we laid there talking for a minute just naked, happy and free until . . . . . remember my sidebar before about mixing drinks? Yea, they all turned on me at the same time. I flew to the bathroom and spent the next 10-15 minutes alternating between pooping and throwing up. Gross, I know. Now the kicker is, I am SUCH a girly-girl when it comes to certain thing (burping, farting, etc) and the thought of doing any of those things in front of a guy used to make my left eye twitch and my ass itch just a little, until Mr. Big. I didn’t feel embarrassed about the night’s events at all and he didn’t seem to hold anything against me. We were. . chill, real chill. And vice versa, the whole, “I gotta pee” thing didn’t make me look at him any differently. Somehow I truly believed that he was just having a bad night.

When I came bathroom, I let him know that I wasn't feeling well and that I needed to go home. As we got our stuff together and walked out to the car, I remember thinking, “Mmm, I’ve definitely gotta try him again!” He dropped me and called me twenty minutes later to see if I was feeling any better. (I wasn’t—lesson learned! Lol)


To be continued. . . . .




*I’m not sure why, but for some reason whenever I get drunk, Juvenile’s song Slow Motion is on repeat in my head.