Talking About Your Ex Says More About You Than Them

blog pic5I’ve always found it incredibly awkward when people go on rants about how unimpressive their ex’s were. Think about it for a minute, this is someone you spent countless days and weeks with. Someone you more than likely slept with and thought about marrying or having children with so why now are you letting the world know how sorry they were?

Every relationship isn’t going to end on good terms so I understand anger or resentment towards someone but being angry with what someone did isn’t the same as not appreciating what they meant to you.

My girlfriend was with her ex for 8 years or so. Of course we’ve talked about their relationship because that’s what couples do, you have those conversations about why it didn’t work, etc. But one thing she’s never done is went out of her way to bad mouth the man. I’ve never heard her mention any of his flaws to me and that’s how it should be. Just because you break up with someone it doesn’t mean you get the green light to be a jerk.

There are secrets that we only tell the people we’re most intimate with. Secrets you can only tell the man or woman that you love. What I could never respect is a person that tells those secrets after they’ve broken up with someone. That says so much about your character that you feel like it’s okay to betray someone’s trust just because you’re not longer together.

Let me be crystal clear. I want the woman I marry to have certain standards. I want her to only have claimed men that are equal to me or better men than me. I don’t need to know that I’m the smartest, most attractive, funniest, wealthiest guy she’s ever dated because what does any of that matter? I have her and she loves me for whatever I am or I’m not. Putting down someone else just to make someone feel better means that the person you’re with has some insecurity issues that they need to check.

You Don’t Have to Put Her Down to Lift Her Up

182240_562470723185_118401058_31406809_1126638_n I don’t often talk in absolutes but this is the one instance I will. Some of us are really bad at being adults. What does that mean? We don’t know how to be mature and view things from the standpoint of “Everything isn’t about me.”

If you’re the type of man that has to put down the woman you used to claim to love in order to make another woman feel better about herself than the simple truth is you probably aren’t capable of loving the woman you’re putting her down for. Some relationships aren’t going to work. No matter how hard we try or how much we want it; they just don’t happen. That doesn’t mean that the love that existed between the two of you vanished. So telling the world how much he or she sucks or is worthless says more about you than the person you’re trashing.

I’ve seen people that were head over heels in love with someone in December talk about them like a dog in February. I’ve seen people that couldn’t stop letting us know when they were on a plane together or at their favorite restaurant look at that same person in disgust. When breakups first happen, they hurt like hell. There’s resentment, anger, jealously, rage, depression but at some point the sun is going to come out. That’s when you have to decide whether or not you’re going to move on.

Putting down someone us to let another person know how dope they are just isn’t cool and ask yourself one question. Should the foundation that you have with her be based on what you didn’t have with someone else?

Till Death Do Us Part


Looking at his reflection in the elevator, the way his eyes were burning a hole through my ass. I just closed my eyes and fought the desire to cry, to scream, to hit every button and get off at the next floor and run! My body was a resource, a tool, I wasn’t the first woman to use it to get what I wanted. What I needed.

I wouldn’t be the last.

Everything was happening in slow motion, the key card sliding into the door, the lock slipping. As soon as I heard the door slam I felt his lips on the back of my neck and his hands sliding under my skirt. The room was dark, my face and hands were on the wall, only one tear fell. I wouldn’t let anymore fall. His hand was on the back of my neck, he spread my legs with his thighs and bent me over like I was being frisked. I could hear my panties being ripped and his zipper coming down.

I could hear the ripping of the condom wrapper, his grip tightened around my neck. I was too dry when he pushed himself inside of me but either he didn’t feel it or didn’t care because he wasn’t taking his time. The harder he stroked, the harder he squeezed my neck, he pushed me down further so that my back would arch more.

His breathing, his grunts, my hand hitting the wall trying to brace myself was all I could hear and then it was over.

He stepped back and I stayed with my face against the wall, pulling my skirt down and leaving my ripped panties on the floor. I wanted to turn around but I couldn’t face him.

“I’ll keep the account with your company. If you want to branch out on your own I’ll back you.” He opened the door, the light from the hallway came blasting in. I didn’t even want to go to the bathroom and clean up. I picked my purse up off the floor and held my head up, forcing myself to look him in the eyes.

“Thank you.” I didn’t recognize my own voice. All I recognized was the throbbing between my legs and pulsating pain through my wrist.

I stepped into the hallway, he rubbed the back of my arm and I turned around. “I’ll expect this arrangement to continue once a month and next time I want you to look me in my eyes when I’m inside you.” He let the door close and I knew things would never be the same.

But did success come without sacrifice?

That Awkward Moment I Realized My Friend May Hate Women

That Awkward Moment I Realized My Friend May Hate Women

I’m a fan of Law and Order SVU, I can watch that show every day, re-run after re-run. There’s just something really interesting about the criminal mind to me, how are you wired so differently from the rest of us? I see characters that are rapists, murders, molesters, serial cheaters and in most cases they genuinely hate women. There’s no hope for these men, the honest truth is either you lock them up or they’re going to hurt people again.

So when I write about my friend “hating” women I’m not talking to the extent of Ted Bundy or one of those weirdo’s that sleeps with women to give them HIV. I’m talking on a level I can’t quite understand but I’m starting to see more and more.

Women are talkative by nature. You put a group of women at a girl’s night or in a beauty shop and they’ll gossip. I’ve always felt like there’s nothing the matter with it, it’s just what they do. Men should be different though. Don’t get me wrong, we talk to each other, we share things that we probably shouldn’t be sharing but it’s usually with guys we’re cool with. Our brothers, best friends, guy’s we work with everyday. When I see men start to develop the same habits women have I have to question why? There’s this anger, this resentment that’s bubbling and I just don’t get it.

This is what every guy understands from the 2nd grade on; when the pretty girl with the two perfect ponytails doesn’t get you a lollipop for Valentines. All women aren’t going to like you, they all aren’t going to find you attractive or funny or charming. They’ll be some that just don’t like you period, they may not even know why they don’t like you. What you can’t do is take it personal. What you can’t do is take it out on “all” women. Don’t be that guy that throws around generalizations and bitterness and is just angry. For every woman that doesn’t return your call or that calls too much there’s several that will get it just right. I’m willing to give my friend or any man the benefit of the doubt after they’ve been betrayed or hurt or lied to or lied on but at some point you can’t be that guy that hates women.

What I’ve learned and of course it took me awhile is that the best thing you can do when you feel rejected or played or frustrated is be cool. Some woman lied on you, laugh about it. You ask two women out and they happen to be friends, apologize and keep it moving. You won’t win going back and forth, do you want to be that guy that’s arguing with women that you don’t even like?

Do I know for a fact my boy hates women, of course not but I do know something just isn’t right. I hope he finds his way in life and gets past whatever this is that makes him write stupid comments on Facebook or post tacky pictures on Instagram.

Until then we shall see.

It’s Not Your Fault You’re Not Her

182240_562470723185_118401058_31406809_1126638_n Jazmine Sullivan has a song called, “In Love With Another Man,” which is sort of self explanatory. The song is dope because she’s saying what most women know but don’t like to admit. You may be a better man, you may treat me better and love me harder but I’m in love with him and not you. The ironic thing is men feel the same way at times, it’s just not easy for us to express.

It’s not hard to make someone fall in love with you. If you have it in you to be what they need you to be it’ll happen and it’ll happen fast. In my younger years I would always say, “It’s not my fault you caught feelings. I was upfront with you.” What I didn’t want to admit is that I was doing things that endeared me to her. You can’t treat someone like they matter when that’s not what you want from them.

The hardest conversation in the world to have is telling an amazing woman that I know you’re great and you know you’re great but I just don’t want you. No matter how much you sugarcoat it or make it about your shortcomings, all she’ll hear is, “You don’t want me.” A million reasons and excuses may come but what you really want to say is… “It’s not your fault you’re not her.” I don’t dream about you. I don’t cut off conversations at work when I see your name on my phone. I don’t cancel plans to see you. I’d do those things for her and you’re just not her. It’s harsh but it’s the truth and this is some more truth. The only way to get over not being with the person you want is to find someone better than them. Not a knockoff of who they are, not someone that’s going to do what they weren’t doing but a person that’s simply better than them.

You want to know why so many women were hostile today? It wasn’t because their child’s father isn’t in their life. It’s because most of them still haven’t found a man to replace him. They may have boyfriends, in some cases husbands but the man they’re with doesn’t make them feel like the man that shares DNA with their child. Love turns to resentment and resentment turns to hate.

It’s not that man’s fault that the woman he loves is in love with another.

Just like it’s not a woman’s fault that the man she loves only wants the woman he loves.

The Sinners That We Are…

dress nakedThe small cross was sitting slightly above her bosom glimmering in the candlelight of the dimly lit restaurant. Her smile was disarming and calming all at the same time. A year ago today we spent Valentine’s Day on the top floor of my favorite hotel. It was the last time I saw her. Naked, vulnerable, crying, she told me without telling me that she was leaving me to be with someone else.

Wait, that’s not right. She told me she was never really with me, just pitying me. Just intrigued by someone different from her usual. Her laugh was sad but mocking in those moments after her words cut me.

In that moment I didn’t think it was possible to hate a woman, to a hate a human being more than I hated her. It’s life to have a woman not love you like she once did, it’s life to have her want more than what you can provide. But the worse feeling in the world outside of death or heartbreak is pity.

Hiding my feelings deep inside, willing my eyes not to show what my heart was feeling, I focused on her cross. Maybe she thought I was looking at her breast that sat so perfectly in the black blouse. Maybe she thought my mind was on all the moments when I couldn’t keep my hands and tongue off of her. I was fine with her thinking that because it was better than her knowing the truth. I focused on the thin diamond cross hanging from her neck because to look into her eyes for too long would be baring my soul to a woman that almost broke me.

“I know you still love me.” When she said it she was looking down at the menu, the wine glass to her lips. No smirk, no smile, just words floating over our booth in the corner.

How was it possible to love someone you hated? Could love and hate coexist? Could the desire to want to choke her out of passion and pleasure live with the desire to want to choke the life out of her? That smile told me I wasn’t good enough, those lips drove a dagger through my heart that I still walk with. But those same lips are Heaven on earth, those lips I worship with each taste and feel and to tell myself otherwise would be lying to myself. “I can never love you like you love me but I do miss you, I am still your biggest fan.” She stood up and walked around sitting next to me, her head on my shoulder, her hand on my thigh.

“Find a woman that can give you the life you deserve. We’re no good for each other, I’ll always hate you for wanting more of me than I can give and you’ll always hate me for not needing you. Our hate and resentment make for great sex but love isn’t supposed to hurt. The only time you smile is when you’re inside of me or you’re watching me read your writing. The sort of man you are, you need to tell the world about me, you need to put me on a pedestal and have me shine for you. I can’t do that, I’ll never do that.” The more she talked, she tighter she squeezed against me. Using her touch to shield me from the harsh truth of her words.

“This isn’t us, sitting in a restaurant, drinking wine. Being normal… I took my panties off in the car because I know that’s what you need from me. I called my office and told them I wouldn’t be back after lunch because I knew you’d get a hotel room knowing I’d have to be gone by five. We’ll never get married or have children or post Facebook statuses about each other. We’ll creep and lie and fight and cry and hate that no one will come close to bringing out so much passion of you. And one day I’ll just be a woman you used to know. And one day I’ll show up to a book signing and all these memories will come rushing back to us. Our story isn’t lovey dovey, it’s angry and spiteful and rated x.”

Kissing her midsentence, knowing everything she was saying was true I paid for the wine and placed the hotel key in her hand. I’d spend Valentine’s Day with a sweet girl that wanted to have my sons and wear my last name. She’d spend Valentine’s Day with a man that could move earth for her, put her on first class flights and change her life. But today we’d have each other and pretend we weren’t the sinners we were.

Sins and Insecurity’s

I’d love to say it was a one time thing and the moments we shared in that hotel room stayed in that hotel room but is that ever the case?

My wife and I were both fighting or sins and insecurity’s even though neither one of us wanted to mention them.

How long had she been attracted to women? How many threesomes and freak sessions had she had before me? How many men had there been? Questions I’d never wanted to know the answers to were now tugging at my conscience.

And that wasn’t even the hardest part.

“Was she wetter than me?”

“Did her mouth feel better than mines?”

These are questions she asked out the blue when I was chopping up some vegetables for dinner. My back was turned so I didn’t realize how serious she was until I turned around and saw the tears in her eyes.

I wanted to say, “Everytime I kiss you I think your lips aren’t as soft as hers. Each time my tongue slips past your navel I think you’re not as sweet as her. When you’re on top of me I close my eyes and see her face and as much as I love you that scares me. You brought another woman into our marriage and now you may not be enough.”

That’s what I shoud have told my crying wife but it wasn’t in me to tell her the truth.

“She’s not you baby. No woman compares.”

Taking Another Man’s Wife…

“It’s late, I’m tired, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. I have wine and your favorite pie fresh from my mother’s oven.”

She was sitting on my porch, her legs crossed, wine in one hand and the sweet potato pie in the other. Thanksgiving was yesterday was what I wanted to tell her but she knew as well as I did that I wasn’t going to turn her away. Yesterday she was with her husband, their child, she was with her family. Yesterday I watched her post picture after picture with cousins and aunts and… him. Yesterday she was the happy wife and I got the “Happy Thanksgiving” text. And tonight she wanted me to forget all that. How do you forget that?

“I’ve been out here for an hour; why is your phone off?”

The funny thing is she was serious. She wasn’t sitting anymore, standing in front of my door, questioning me about why my phone was off when there was a ring on her finger.

“Go home to your family Kacey.”

I was tired, I couldn’t blame her though. I knew what I was getting into the moment we met. I knew her situation, I knew she loved him. But what I didn’t know is that I would fall in love with her. What I couldn’t see was that I’d grow to resent her for letting him touch her. What scared me is that when my feelings should have been fading all I could think about was how much I missed her. ”He’s at the Rockets game with his brothers and after that they’re going to the casino; my son is spending the night at my sisters. I have the whole night; we can cook and decorate that tree. You can wash my back in the shower, I’m yours tonight. We can do all the stuff you write about tonight.” Her smile was my kryptonite and her kiss was my cyanide.

She thought she was doing me a favor by giving me tonight but what I couldn’t explain to her, what I could probably never explain to anyone is that getting a piece of her gave me a hope that I knew wasn’t really there. Having her lie in a bed next to me, even if it was only for an hour or two would break my resolve. Our relationship… our affair wasn’t about the stolen moments in hotel rooms or backseats. It was about both of our loneliness. Mines because I’d fallen in love to a woman that took a vows with another man and hers because she was in a marriage that was a lie. We fed off each other’s vulnerability, each others fears, her tears aroused me and my emotion made her wet. I was the fuse, she the spark and it was just a matter of time before shit went… BOOM!

Men Cry In the Dark…

There will be moments where the pain or loneliness or stress becomes too much to bear. Moments where you question your sanity and your purpose. In those moments the tears will come, you can’t fight it. And when those tears break you down and your only solace is to know this pain can’t possibly last forever… You cry in the dark.

You cry in the dark because your tears aren’t for everyone. Your problems and fears, your resentments and hate, your heartbreak and sorrow. Those are crosses you have to bear as a man. It’s easy to find a woman to sleep with, to go to dinner with, to flirt with. But not many women are worth the liquid vulnerability that tears bring.

“I have been driven to my knees many times by the overwhelming conviction that I had no place else to go.” That’s not just an Abraham Lincoln quote, that’s life. Especially when you’re a man. You have to be strong for those around you, strong for those that love you. Strong for those that hate you but as the sun sets and the shades are drawn it’s just you and your tears.

Resentment Passion and Hate…

I asked her to marry me. She said she wouldn’t accept the ring unless I promised her it was over between Alexis and I. That was the first time I lied to her and up until tonight it was the only time I lied to her. I needed her in my life, she wasn’t the woman I dreamed about every night but she was a good woman. She loved me more than I loved myself I think. She believed in me more than anyone had ever believed in me outside of Lex. I knew her love ran deep, it ran borderline crazy but that’s what I needed.

There would always be someone in the relationship that loved harder than the next person. Always someone that needed the other person more. I tried to compensate for not giving her my all with material things, with always being there but she knew… She had to have known. And when looking at her every morning became too much, when seeing I’d never match the intensity of her passion started to eat me alive and I knew keeping her from having the man she deserved was selfish… I made up my mind to let her go.

And the same night I walked into our home with a U-Haul receipt in my back pocket and a storage receipt in my glove compartment she told me she was pregnant.

“It’s a boy Allen. I feel it in my heart, it’s a boy.” And even with her stomach flat and my eyes open I felt the skin over her belly button and knew that I couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t be my father, I wouldn’t walk away from my child, from the woman that was carrying my child. A part of me knew she did this on purpose, she took her birth control regularly but what done was done and I’d be a man about it.

That was eight months ago. Tonight.


Tonight I was sitting in a waiting room, my eyes red, blood in the tips of my nails. Waiting, hoping that would come out and say they were both okay. My conscience wouldn’t let me ask for the health of my son and wish for the death of his mother. I called no one, not her parents, her friends, her sister. I couldn’t deal with the questions, the accusations, the lies. They’d find out soon enough and they’d come but now I needed to pray, to grieve for the child that I knew was lost, in my heart,… I knew.

Pacing the hallway, the tears falling and the sounds of my heart beating and my shoes hitting the sterile floor driving me insane I leaned against the wall and fell to my knees. I screamed on the inside at God for punishing me for my selfishness! I screamed at myself for pushing her to the point of no return, knowing how deep her love for me ran. As my tears fell and my agony engulfed me I felt her standing over me. Falling to the cold floor her warm skin pressed against mine. Her being here was wrong, she was the reason she pressed the knife into her stomach. But having her breath on my neck, having her body on my body was the only thing that was stopping me from slitting my wrist. I love you she said, the words like gasoline on a wound. I need you I said, my voice betraying my duties to the woman and child that needed me. I had to decide but now wasn’t the time…

“I’m sorry but I have some bad news.” Is what the doctor said as he saw me embraced with another woman on the hospital floor. The look in his eyes told me that one of them was dead or maybe both. I held her hand and prepared myself for the worst.