“He be telling them hoes he love them and want to get married and they believe him #sillyrabbits”
My friend was showing me her now ex-boyfriend’s baby mama’s Facebook status. I remained unfazed.
A woman bragging about her “boyfriend” doing other chicks dirty never made sense to me. Let’s think about this for a second. So, this girl knows he’s out wooing and doing R.Kelly’s 12 play on other chicks, but she’s not dumb—they are? Girl bye! Nonetheless, I know how that shit feels. You feel played, embarrassed, used, and like a damn fool.
I blocked the girl from my friend’s Facebook page. “First off, stop going to her page. Second, she should feel played, embarrassed, and like a fool because she’s just sitting there through all his relationships, dating, and one night stands. You’re a victim. You’ve been bamboozled. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of, it happens to the best of us.”
My little speech wasn’t helping.
I continued, “Honestly when you first meet a dude, he’s a blank canvas.”
She looked confused as hell, “…what?”
I grabbed my notebook and flipped it open to a clean sheet of paper. “See…like this. You meet somebody for the first time it’s like this. It’s blank. You don’t know them. As you get to know them and time passes, you start to write their narrative. Ya’ll narrative. You’re writing a narrative based on what they are telling you and how they are acting. You didn’t know he was really a bird-ass, eff boy. The thing is…she does. Didn’t you say he lived with a whole other woman for three years, but his baby mama claiming they been together for a decade?”
My friend nodded.
“Don’t feel bad. She’s the real punch line, not you. You’re an innocent bystander. You didn’t know. You believed him and why would you think he was lying? Now that you know he’s lying just move on. You called him?
I gave her a death stare and then squinted my eyes, “You called him?”
She laughed, “Nah, blocked him on everything. I was going to her page though.”
“Yeah, stop that. Listen, be happy you got out of that in record time. How long ya’ll dated?”
She thought for a second,” …like five or so months.”
I clapped my hands once and then clasped them together, “That’s less than six months? Yeah, anything less than six months don’t count.”