I’m probably the last person who gets a say on this matter (especially seeing how I’ve been cheated on in nearly all of my relationships) but I just have to say it. Women, we do some really dumb shit when it comes to our relationships.
Most of us (which includes the 70% of yall that would never admit to it) either (a) put ourselves into relationships with people who aren’t worth being in relationships with (b) stay in relationships that are hurting us (c) and try to convince ourselves that things are gonna change when its clear that they aren’t. And alot of US (yea I said us, because I’m guilty and alot of yall are too) run back to our exs when they call. I know I’m definitely guilty. I’ve done that shit too many times. And just kept on sliding like it was all cool.
All of this is coming from the latest fiasco between Royce, from Basketball wives, and her 22 year old boyfriend. Oh wait. Don’t let me forget to mention that Royce is 30. Oh and I forgot, her boyfriend is a pro-football player with a baby and a baby mama. (Don’t worry I’ll get back to that later… ) But, the story has it that Royce’s lil boyfriend was sextin his baby momma some explicit stuff. Then the baby momma and Royce got into it via twitter. Baby moms posted pictures of the texts and here comes Royce dumb ass starts going back and forth. In Royces (stupid but sensible) defense, she was defending her relationship as most of us do. Then the boy admits to having sent the texts to “get closer to his baby moms”. No, I wont get into that.
Why do I have the right to call her ass dumb. Because I been on both sides of the story and I know that 100% of the time someone is lying. Sometimes someone is lying about getting texts, the other half of the time someone is lying about their relationship. Women are NOT exempt from cheating, lying man hoes. Being gorgeous, or having the perfect body, or being super smart, or having the perfect person, or being a virgin or the craziest etc, NONE of that makes you exempt from having trifling men in your life. It is your job to call him out when you see him. Let me give you a story:
I was in love. I was soo in love there was a point where we didn’t leave my room for a week straight. All we wanted to do was be with eachother. Cuddle, kiss and have sex all damn day. We thought we would be together para siempre y siempre y siempre. We couldn’t even be in seperate rooms for more than 5 seconds without finding a way to reattach at the hip. Moving forward. He was always a liar and I could tell. Our relationship started on some shady shit, I should have known that it would end on some sneaky shit. And I was right, he was cheating and I knew. Everyone knew. He was fine as hell, not that that was an excuse but shit I should have left him. I had gotten into countless fights with chicks about him being fresh with them and doing things that weren’t supposed to go on. I defended him and our relationship till I was blue in the face (and Im dark skinned so that must have been a long time). I thought I was strong enough to be done. I confronted him and broke up with him. A day later he came back with those sexy ass eyes and tears and plans. His sex gave me amnesia. I “thought” I made him change and thought it worked. Womp. He did it again. and again until I was numb to it. I really thought I couldnt do any better. Stupid ass Amina.
Fast forward. We’d broken up in the most fucked up fashion. He left me (thats another sad story) and started a relationship with a new girl like two days after. He’s easy though, that’s to be expected. And I find myself going back and forth with this dumb bitch. She wasn’t a dumb bitch because she was his new girlfriend, she was a dumb bitch because she thought she was better than me AND because her two seconds of knowing his ass would some how TRUMP my 2 years. This fool spent night after night talking me to sleep, skype-sexin, and talking about us getting back together, kept asking when I was coming to see him etc. All the same things he had done to me, he was now repeating with her. And she was dumb as hell for listening to him. The anger in me made me want to live my every day arguing with her about it. But it wasn’t that serious. I said ok and hung up the phone.
Sidenote: On some angry hood rat shit, every time I slept with that boy while he was/is seeing that girl I grinned. Karma’s name was Amina and Amina wanted to be a bitch. Yea I still do it. Thug Life. Insert Kanye Shrug. Look, at least I’m honest about it. We made a baby for crying out loud. Ol girl didn’t stand a chance.
Point is we do some dumb shit when it comes to relationships. We need to do better. I know, I know: I need to do better. Cheating is cheating is cheating is wrong. If he is cheating on you, leave his ass. Don’t let him convince you that he’s above cheating. Learn from Amina and from Royce don’t arguing in public about your relationship. Chances are if you’ve been cheated on before, and you think this boy is cheating, he probably is. Don’t argue. Just wait and see. Maybe Karma will be someone else for you and maybe she will be a bitch too. Maybe he’s a good dude and he’s not cheating (yea… ok) or maybe you will look like a dumb ass like Ol girl and Royce and Amina.
Just sayin. I mean you don’t have to listen to me cuz I aint shit.
Its like one day I woke up and actually stared at my reflection and thought “you actually ARE pretty.”
That was some deep shit. More precisely because I spent the past 24 years of my life feeling unpretty. Unpretty isn’t at the top of the list though. I’ve felt a number of really negative things. And most of them didn’t start with me.
I’ve always felt fat. I was pretty much always told I was fat and it wasn’t until I went to Miami with my lady friends that I realized, that I wasn’t fat at all. I didn’t think I was obese, just fat. Fat enough to know that it wasn’t attractive. Fat enough to be embarrassed when I would buy clothing at the store. My mom would always nicely suggest that I should hit the gym. It was always nice enough to make me know that I was overweight but not forceful enough to think that I was obese and about to die or something. In my mind, I was fat. Even the girls that I didn’t think were fat, but low key actually were, in my mind were smaller than me.
Then one day right around my 24th birthday, it hit me. Generally speaking, fat girls can’t wear a size small. Most girls that were fat could fit a 34 bra size, period. Those cuts, can’t be part of fat. These thighs are more likely to convince others that I might be related to a horse before they’d call me fat. It just wasn’t true. I wasn’t fat at all. I started looking at the people around me and compared myself to them. I was right. I wasn’t fat.
The only thing this epiphany made me do was realize that there were probably a million things that I thought were wrong with me that actually didn’t exist. I was out her in the street feeling bad about myself and bout being fat and I’m not even fat. I used to spend days analyzing all the things wrong with my body, my face, my life and I just absorbed all of this negativity. It made me question everything I ever believed.
Moving to LA was about to be more about me and less about freeing myself and trying to prove something about him (we’ll talk about him another time).