3. Alise #2
“I can fight. I can fight for sure, but my nails, outfit, and shoes cost more than what you probably see in a month. I don’t fight with my hands anymore unless it’s self defense.
I call the police. Yeap, I’m Karen. Because even if you don’t have shit to lose now one day when you grow up and want to work at certain places, or live in certain areas, you’ll have to forever sit in their face and explain your assault charge while praying they don’t hold it against you. Try me.”
“Fuck this bitch,” Keith grabbed his companion’s arm and ushered her past me.
“Fuck ya mammy, nigga.”
“Yeah, but you’re so classy.”
“I am. When I need to be, and this isn’t that.” I replied sweetly while walking off.
I was so mad for my friend. Men could be so trash.
That was the main reason I refused to get too excited about Carter.
He seemed perfect, and I knew enough to know perfect didn’t exist. It was sad that I had to overthink and rethink everything he told me because I was used to men lying and living double lives.
I was used to them only telling the part of the story that made them seem like the good guy.
I was used to them having a woman at home while declaring they were single.
And those weren’t just my experiences. It was the reality for way too many people around me.
Jada was happily married. My friend, Yohana was forty with a twenty-year-old son, and she was six months pregnant with twins.
Her man was four years younger than her, and they had a beautiful love story.
Everyone didn’t meet their forever person at the age of twenty or thirty.
And sadly, there were those that never met their forever person.
There was plenty I could say I did wrong in my marriage.
The ending wasn’t just on him. But for the most part, it was always the freakin’ men that had to ruin things because being honest, loyal, and decent human beings was sometimes too much to require.
I was over men my age still trying to act like they were in their twenties and sleep around to inflate their bruised egos.
They were getting older, bellies getting bigger, hairlines receding, and they wanted something young and pretty to stroke their egos.
Women my age weren’t who they wanted validation from.
They wanted the young girls, and that was their business.
Dating younger was cool, but I wasn’t trying to teach anyone to love me correctly. That shit was for the birds.
More than anything I wanted Lauren to feel supported and loved. I didn’t want her to feel like a failure and let the stressors of life take her spark. She would be okay. We all would be okay.
I held one hand up in the air while I bounced to the beat with a drink in my other hand.
I did very well for myself. I had a grown child, and I created content on social media for women my age and older that were trying to navigate through new seasons.
And I could still turn up and get ratchet in the club.
I loved Bossman D Low simply because of the way he popped his shit.
When my daughter left home, I was super depressed.
Not knowing what to do, I picked up my camera and started recording my journey of healing.
It was never my intentions to share it with others, but when I decided to do so, it changed my life.
The first time I saw a YouTube check for more money than some people made in a year, and it was just for one month, I knew then what the purpose for my pain was.
It was to help and inspire other women going through the same things as me.
I had an entire community and most days, they didn’t even realize that they helped me get through the same way that I helped them.
I had my girl, Alexandria recording me, so I could add it into my weekly vlog and my social media short stories.
I didn’t know how long the social media wave would last, so that was the main reason I was investing in Airbnb’s. I needed a plan B always.
I was starting to acquire brand deals also, and that was extra income as well. The Bossman D Low song faded, and a Young Jeezy song came on.
“Oh, they going in,” I shouted bouncing harder. I didn’t know how to twerk, but I could slow wind and move my body with the best of them.
“Someone has been staring at you for the last five minutes,” Alexandria stated as she passed me my phone.
“Who?” my brows furrowed.
“Straight ahead beside the light-skinned guy with the bald head. He’s wearing a black shirt.”
I waited a few seconds then discreetly searched for the man that was ogling me. “Ew,” I groaned and mumbled under my breath when I noticed Trey.
“He’s cute,” Alexandria declared making me roll my eyes.
“I don’t mean ew as in his looks. I know him very well.
I’ve also been ignoring him for like two months.
I’m surprised he hasn’t made his way over here yet.
” Inwardly, I prayed he’d just keep it at staring and not come talk to me.
Better yet, I hoped he didn’t even call.
I was tipsy, and some good dick would have been wonderful, but his dick came with aggravation.
“Oh Lord. Why are the fine ones always a waste?”
Trey was handsome. Dark, average height, cut full of waves, athletic build.
His sex was just boring, and he didn’t know how to take a hint.
My phone vibrated inside my clutch. I pulled the device out and saw that Carter was calling.
The alcohol in my system prevented me from keeping a straight face.
I bit my lip and smiled at the screen like an idiot.
That was the person that I wanted to talk to, but I wouldn’t be able to hear him in the club.
I waited for the phone to stop ringing, and I shot him a quick text message.
“Whoever that is calling you this late must be the reason you’ve been curving me.” The smile was instantly wiped off my face when Trey’s voice floated into my ear.
After sending the message, I glanced up at him with a slight frown. “Hello to you too.”
“Now you can speak.”
“You’re right in front of my face. Would you prefer I walk away?”
“I’d prefer it if you stopped ignoring me,”
“And I’d prefer it if you got the hint. I’ve told you more than once, more than twice that I wasn’t interested in a casual situation that called for sex two to three times a week.
We aren’t in a relationship. We aren’t seriously dating.
My sneaky links are just that. Sneaky. Not consistent.
I’m not giving you all day everyday access to my vagina. We don’t even go out on dates.”
“Why would I ask you out on a date when you made it clear years ago that you didn’t take me serious?”
“And I still don’t. Which is why I’m good with having sex once every two or three months. That doesn’t seem to be enough for you, so feel free to go deal with someone else. My rules are mine.”