Its #TBT (Throwback Thursday) and I am going to take a walk down memory lane to when I was 26 years old. I met “Michael” an entertainment attorney through a mutual friend at a dinner party. He had charisma and swag. He was just a year older than me. He oozed sexiness. He could dress his ass off, drove a Range Rover (which at that age was important to me) SMDH! (Growth) We talked non-stop from the time we met until the end of the party. We exchanged numbers and he called that same night. After a 2 hour phone conversation we made plans to meet at Cut in The Beverly Wilshire Hotel. I like casual dates where you can wear jeans and let your hair down. However, perhaps it’s the Leo in me, but getting dressed up for a date is so much more exciting. I wore a cute little black dress, a bright pink pashmina scarf, a pair of killer heels that should only be worn if you’re sitting down all night (or laying down) :-). When I walked into the restaurant my usual 10 minutes late and saw him I had to concentrate on keeping my legs straight because they were literally turning into jello. “Michael” wasn’t what I would call fine, but he had a presence that demanded attention. He was tall, chocolate, with deep set seductive eyes, and lips that begged to be kissed. He had on a nice pair of slacks that fitted him so well. A lavender button down shirt that only accentuated his chocolate skin and you could tell through the shirt his body was sculpted to perfection. He had the nerve to be wearing beautiful cuff links with M engraved in them. I took a deep breath gave him a hug and inhaled his cologne. Remember that moment in Waiting to Exhale when Whitney Houston puts her arms around the guy on the dance floor and exhales. That’s exactly what it felt like. I was exhaling. Just like when we first met and our first 2 hour phone conversation, the conversation was endless. He was smart, driven, well traveled all the qualities I like in a man even back then. Throughout our date I could hear his phone vibrating. Not just every once in a while but constantly. When we were having our dessert he finally picked up the phone, looked at it, and shook his head.
Me: Do you need to get that?
Michael: No. I am so sorry. That’s just my, ex. She hasn’t gotten over the fact that it’s over. She’s crazy.
There are two things wrong with the statement he made.
- “That’s just my ex. She hasn’t gotten over the fact that it’s over.”– Typically a woman does not get over the fact that a relationship is over if you the man is still sleeping with her. Also, when a woman feels that comfortable blowing up a man’s phone, than clearly you aren’t being that damn direct about what you want in the relationship.
- “She’s crazy”- When a man says this, it should be your cue as a woman to run as fast as you can. Sprint and get as far away from that guy as possible. Don’t get me wrong. I am fully aware there are some crazy bitches out there. I get that. However, 8 times out of 10 a woman is made crazy by a man that is a) lying to her or b) treating her like shit c) cheating on her. And some men are so quick to say a woman’s crazy without acknowledging how their actions could have played a role in her craziness.
Now keep in mind this is not the 35 year old woman I am today that is fully aware of these facts. This is the 26 year girl I was back then. Instead of getting up and getting the hell out of there I was mesmerized by his good looks and charm. Instead my dumb ass responded.
Me: Well maybe you should pick up the phone and call her back. She’s probably going to keep calling. I’m going to go to the ladies room.
I got up and went to the ladies room, to refresh my lip gloss. When I returned he was in a heated conversation on the phone and when he saw me he hung up. At the end of the date, he walked me to the valet and paid for my car, gave me a hug and a respectable kiss. The next day I woke up to a dozen roses being delivered to my home. This was just what novels were made of. It’s amazing how you can ignore signs that someone is a fool because you are blinded by what you want the relationship to be. 2 days later he took me to Luna Park in Miracle Mile. He clearly had his phone on silent. He apologized for the phone issue we had during our first date and reiterated that his ex-girlfriend was crazy. I didn’t ask for details. I just took his word for it and tried to brush over the subject.
For our 3rd date he invited me to his house for dinner. If a man did that now, I would politely decline and suggest a neutral public location for us to meet. But at that time, I wanted to be accommodating. I didn’t want to “risk” missing out on this “good thing.” LOL! I still laugh at myself… lovingly. Seriously, the things you do when you are not secure with who you are. He invited me over on Tuesday for a Saturday evening date. Although I was a simple minded 26 year old. I had enough sense to grow the hair out on my legs to ensure I wouldn’t do anything stupid and take things too far. I knew I had no intentions of sleeping with him just yet because at the end of the day, I saw him as “husband material.” And this was pre-Steve Harvey Think Like A Man advice. I am not one of these women that take dating advice from Steve freaking Harvey. I mean seriously. We don’t need Steve Harvey to tell us that sleeping with a man too soon will lead to you becoming just a jump off/booty call. Anyway I digressed…
Saturday evening came. The hair on my legs had grown out to a nice embarrassing length so I knew sex WAS NOT going down. I put on my over-sized cotton grandma draws that were reserved for my monthly visitor. And I high tailed my ass over to “Michael’s” condo where he prepared a 3 course meal, followed by an amazing chocolate dessert. It was a great evening. When it was time for me to leave he walked me out to my car. He had been a gentleman all night and didn’t try to sleep with me. When we got outside of the building, we stood under the moonlight, and Michael looked me in the eyes. He gently touched my face and held it in between his two hands. I knew our first real kiss was coming. He kissed me on the forward head. And then he bent down and gave me a passionate kiss. His lips were so soft. He was one of those guys who constantly put on Carmex. You all know back in the day (and even some guys still do it) guys would constantly put on some Carmex to make their lips soft. And it worked! Suddenly time stood still. I felt like I was in one of those Spike Lee movies where the cameras have the sweeping and panning dolly shot which create a surreal take on the events happening on screen. (If you’re not familiar take a look: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cu9-UymSApM&playnext=1&list=PL0sk0d5kIO9GOP8BI2ubIZ7s7uD7I0Vqp&feature=results_main).
Time was standing still. I was in the moment. Until I heard a wrestling in the bushes. I figured it was a squirrel. Until a woman screamed, “Who the fuck is this bitch!” We quickly broke our embrace I turned around to a girl who was wearing a Juicy Couture sweat suit, sneakers, her long hair which looked like it hadn’t been brushed for days. It was matted and greasy. She ran towards us. He wild hair was blowing in the wind. As she got closer I could tell her mascara was smeared and tears were streaming down her face. She looked like a wild beast. The Jersey girl in me immediately went into survival mode. I wasn’t sure if this crazy bitch had a gun or a knife or what. So I didn’t make any quick moves. Once she got to “Michael” she started beating his ass! She was fighting him like it was a Pacquiao fight. I gave “Michael” his props for not lifting his hands up to fight her back. She was yelling:
How could you do this to me again! You promised things would be different this time. How could you. I’m tired of this shit. I’m going to kill your black ass! You muthafucka!
I had already ran and got into my car. I wasn’t about to stay there long enough to see if she was planning on a round 2 with my ass. I might know how to talk shit, but I wasn’t prepared to fight the heavy weight champion! As I drove off he finally had tamed the wild beast and was hugging her as she cried uncontrollably in his arms. He rubbed her hair and kissed her on her forward. Similar to how he had just kissed my forehead only minutes ago! Once I was a good distance away. I realized there was a piece of notebook paper stuck to the wind shield of my car. I pulled over and grabbed the note. It was written in psycho handwriting.
I don’t know who you are. But I thought I should let you know “Michael” is a piece of shit. He is a low down dirty dog and has given me gonorrhea. If you fucked him tonight you should get yourself checked. Stay away from my man bitch!
I went home and of course “Michael” attempted to call me which I ignored. I had no intentions of hearing what he had to say. The next morning I went to my car to run errands, I noticed there was a long scratch on my car. The scratch went from my trunk all the way to my front headlights. On the other side of my Montero Sport were the letters B-I-T-C-H. The Bush Bitch keyed my damn car! Luckily I had excellent insurance and didn’t even bother suing her ass. If I knew then what I know now… Luckily I have learned from that experience. As women we should never allow ourselves to become a Bush Bitch. If you don’t see a man for who he really and truly is you could become that “crazy” woman jumping out of a bush. I must say, looking back now, I owe the Bush Bitch and “Michael” a thank you card. For some women they learn the lesson quicker. For me it took me numerous bad experiences and a divorce to realize, fear can lead you to become the Bush Bitch (literally and figuratively). Fear of being alone, fear of thinking you can’t get better, fear of speaking your mind, and fear of having high standards and expectations. What a great lesson learned…
©Monique Kelley and Confessions of A Serial Dater In LA, 2013-2019 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Monique Kelley and Confessions of A Serial Dater In LA with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. Copying my posts and changing some of the words is still plagiarism.