I feel good writing. I wasn't allowed to before. There was this asshat and I say that wholeheartedly name Neal who was so worried about what could come back to his career, so I wasn't allowed to blog, take pictures, he would literally stalk my social media's to keep me in check.
Narcassist at it's best. We call him fake cancer because he got caught cheating and faked cancer. Supposedly, you know I can't say for certain he had it before. So I guess he knew how to fake it well.
I met him on the dating app plenty of fish. First of all, not going to lie, deliciously hot. I saw his picture and I was like I'm going to hit on this guy and he is never going to respond. I hit him with the most absurd line with a big hint of sexiness.
I'm trying to get to know you like Robin Thicke at 6am.
It worked. Not only did it work but this guy had hilarious, intelligent, mind blowing conversation.
Lots of issues off bat. I was engaged. It wasn't for a real marriage, It was to some Jamacian guy named Mickey for a green card. That guy was hot too, so obviously I questioned everything when he fell in love with me. But how do you explain to some guy on the internet you were looking for one last ha-rah before I had to pretend to be somebody's wife for some years so they could provide for their family back home.
But after a week of this incredible conversation, I told him I had a taxi cab confession. Asked him if he knew what it was. He said he had heard of it but never watched. So I explained I had something I needed to be honest about.
Explained I was engaged, it was too late to back out, and in a few days I would be married. Explained how and why, and much to my surprise, his response was, well I'm not trying to marry you.
Hot damn...
My bachelorette party was my best friend Melissa and I.. (always up to some kind of mischief) going to a local dive bar. Where I was already a little trashed and some army redneck guy started hitting on me. Even dropping the N bomb. Obviously not knowing I had biracial children. Or that my date for the evening was soon about to walk in. I went to the ladies room. My cheeks already flush from alcohol, come out seeing him.
He said he was 5'9 yo I'm saying I know size and this dude was 5'7 still sexy. It's funny he said he was 5'9 though because as time went on (more stories) when he walked, sometimes he did on his tip toes to create that illusion.
I really didn't care. He was still charming, gap in between his two front teeth. Exactly like mine. I always wondered how my biological mother would say she loved mine it was beautiful but in that instant I knew.
I can't remember what we talked about. I can't even remember if he drank. I know I did, and at bar close my dearest friend Melissa asked if I needed a ride home? So did he. Clearly my very uninhibited choice was to go with the fine piece of silk chocolate. I remember Melissa saying she didn't know how we beat her home (lived in the same townhomes) but we did.
I remember hours of sex. The kind they write about in novels. I don't remember specifics. Just at one point we took a break and he sat on my couch naked and I sat on my floor next to him. And I gently started kissing his knee. As if all of him was sweet and I wanted to devour him some more. No one in my life has been able to keep up with my sexual appetite.
He did. I think we went another hour or so, and we parted ways. But I remember running outside asking for another kiss before he left. Thinking at least if it was my last it was going to be good. It was.
The next day I was to be married. I'm going to rewind a moment before the Melissa & Melissa show antics.
Earlier that day I was hyperventilating and puking at the thought of marriage. In my Nanas house grasping on to the fireplace for my life. I couldn't breathe. I felt like dying would of been way easier. My Nana who disapproved of the entire thing giving me lectures with my Aunt telling me how sacred marriage was. Telling me it's not too late to back out. I can still not go through with this. My Nana even stating she didn't think I would ever be the marrying type.
But they didn't know in the previous few months that this person I was to be married to, admitted to cutting up 27 people, men, women, and children and feeding them to gators. Working in the weed fields in Jamacia. That was his job. And if I ever backed out or said a word, it would be me and my family. I was already in too deep.
The day of the marriage: I put on a dress, a little off white spaghetti strapped long flowing simple dress. I got my kids ready. Ny'lle in a simple dress, hair done, my son in a button up and dress pants, and we headed over.
We got there and he wasn't ready. His uncle Kingsly who didn't like me anyways (more on my stunts later) was telling him not to marry me. As I was just trying to get this done and over with.
Mickey started yelling at me and screamed out "WHAT IN THE HELL DO I WANT TO BE MARRIED TO YOU FOR ANYWAY?"
I sighed with a giant relief. And said "Thank God because I can't do this either"
The look of disappointment on his face was incredibly surprising. But I left, his neighbor Bob (another story of its own) offered to take my kids and I home. So that's where we went.
But I was heartbroken at the same time. I don't know what my heart was broken for now. I went to my biological mother's house and laid in bed for a week. Until her douche bag boyfriend started complaining about who doesn't even get up to shower?
Depressed people fuck face. Duh.
But at the end of that week I got a text. From none other than Neal. I believe it was something along the lines of don't tell me you died after you got married? We can still talk.
And I knew he wasn't afraid of me.
Yet.
I explained it didn't happen and I was as free as a bird. And he was more than happy to hang out again. And that was the beginning of a 3 year torturous relationship that to this day I have nightmares about.
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