Just 2 days after Christmas and I was happily camping out at my Dad's house in Jersey for a much needed tune up. I was enjoying the peace and quiet of deer country when my alter ego began itching for a trip to my old stomping ground...just over the mountain and through the woods to Brooklyn. Ironically, I ran into Monica, one of my coolest and feistiest home girls from the Empire state, at the neighborhood liquor store outside of Princeton.
What's up Mo?! "What are you doing here?", I ask. "Girl, I just came out here to catch my boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend) cheating". "What?!", I whispered with a scream. I was trying not to startle the 90 yr. old cashier who probably retired from his real job 30 years ago. I was actually shocked by this news even though we've all been reminded by the behavior of Mr. Woods, cheating is a popular sport. What a shame. The last time I talked to Monica, marriage was the topic of choice.
"Yeah girl, I knew that nigga was cheatin but I just had to catch him red handed so I could put closure to this bullshit of a relationship we had". She was so calm and a bit nonchalant with her words. She was conversing like we were at a water cooler casually gossiping about the office whore. All of a sudden she stopped her rant and turned to me like she just thought of a cure for cancer. "Yo, you want to come to my "Fuck Him" party tomorrow night?!", she pretty much demanded, while grabbing a Grey Goose bottle without even looking at it.
I couldn't help but chuckle, even though the circumstance wasn't funny. Monica is a NY city cop from Jamaican decent...pretty girl but her dominant personality can be quite intimidating, even for the most aggressive man. The fact she didn't run up on this dude like G.I. Jane with her loaded gun was quite impressive. Of course I agreed to come to the party. I mean really? How could I miss the opportunity for a bitter "I don't need a man" session. If anything, it would be a good laugh. Plus, I was already a little bored with watching step mom bake brownies and re-arrange Christmas decorations.
It's party night and I'm the last one arriving at the house. There are about 12 women there...a lot more than I expected. And then there's Monica - sitting in the middle of the floor in the midst of all her cheerleaders, clearly wasted, talking shit and laughing out loud with exaggerated insults for the guilty party. But when no one was looking I saw her eyes close as she inhaled. But I don't remember seeing her let go.
I needed a drink. I looked for the wine but the only poisons on the table were Jack, Goose, Crown and E & J. Uhh ok, I guess this isn't an afternoon brunch.
So me and my Crown are flirting with each other while this cheater hater party turns into an urban Dr. Phil show knock off.
"Michelle, he will never marry you baby. You really need to just decide what you want to do. Your pussy hairs gonna be all gray before he even thinks about committing to your ass." Brooklyn bitches don't pull any punches, I swear. I didn't know who the girl was that was talking to Michelle, but I damn sure knew Michelle. Michelle's middle name should be doormat. Poor thing has been dating a guy for 5 years who doesn't even acknowledge her in public as anything other than "hey". He doesn't listen to her, know her or love her. I bet he says all the right things in bed to keep her on it but that's all he will give. He tells her he's not the marrying kind but really he's just not the faithful kind. Sad, sad, sad. Michelle reminded me of Robin from the movie Waiting to Exhale, so weak and insecure.
I looked around the room and realized that most of these women had tragic love stories...sad tales of lies, heartache and disappointment. I wasn't laughing. This wasn't fun.
But then there was Simone...the only bit of sunshine I felt in the room. Married for 2 years, happiness was seeping out of her pours. Her husband, Jeff is romantic, understanding, supportive and loving. And you experienced this just from her 2 anecdotes and 5 minute phone conversation we all overheard them have earlier that night. I call Simone and Jeff hope. They represent the hope for true and honest love. Sort of like my Dad and step mom, who have been married over a decade and treat each other like newly weds. All they do is constantly exhale...loving and appreciating each moment of their lives they share together, yet maintaining themselves as individuals.
So, as I looked around the room at all those women...some inhaling, exhaling and even waiting to exhale, I asked myself, "Where do I fit in this picture frame?"What kind of woman am I in my relationship? Still figuring that out, but I am certain of one thing. That party reminded me of just how many fucked up women are out here looking for love in fucked up places. So, I need to stop waiting...waiting for Heaven or Hell to come. I'm going to breathe in and out nice and easy and try not to be that bitch in the middle of the floor.
-C
