The NOT Never Ever Again

First of all he had a baby mama...that slashed my tires, called my phone and called me ugly every chance she got. My first mistake.

Second of all, from Washington Park in Chicago to Evanston should not take 15 minutes. But I've done it before just so we could argue.

The first fight happened when he was moving out of his apartment. I can't even remember what we were arguing over but I can remember being pinned to the wall and us spitting on each other. I can remember the police coming and the neighbors looking. I remember that part clearly. I remember looking like a fool.

I know. This post is not even funny.

The second one we were outside in a parking lot throwing shoes....the ones I bought...

I was young, and of course like many of these stories. Dumb. They say if you knew better you'd do better. I thank God for wisdom now.

But at the time I was so wrapped up in the fake emotion of lust that makes you believe it's love that I didn't know how to separate stupidity for tolerance or love for compromise.

I always hear stories of women who end up in fighting situations and I sit back and listen to the reactions, "Oh not me, Nun-unh the first time I'm calling such and such" or "Oh hells no I would have killed him," or this one "I'm leaving after the first fight." But the real answer is, you don't know what you would do unless you're in that situation, at that time with that person. You just never know.

We were at his aunt's house. Playing cards. I was his cousins partner, he was his other cousins partner. It took one sentence to start a dramatic night.

I said, "We gotta win this hand."

They were losing. He hated to lose.

"No talking over the table," he said with furrowed eyebrows.

"Nobody is talking over the table," I said with the screw face.

We continue to play. Next hand...

"Come on p, we got this, last hand," I mentioned.

"I said, no talking over the table."

I'm smirking because he's mad. Mad they are about to lose.

"Nobody is talking over the table, who are you talking to."

He stands up, throws his cards. "I said no Effin' talking."

I stand up. "What the hell is wrong with you. Take this @ss whoopin like a man."

He pushes me across the chair. I break the chair and fall into the floor.

His cousins run. They know....They know it's about to go down. His little cousins screams that we are downstairs fighting...His older cousin is shaking his head.

I sit there for a second and the arm of the chair is under me...he leans down to pick me up. I grab the arm of the chair. Like a bat I swing it straight across his head. He stumbles. I get up. I hit him again. I trip.

He gets up. Hits me right in the face. Right in the eye. I'm sitting there....wondering how my life had come to this.

He walks out the door. I get in my car, bruised, crying, knowing that in the morning I will go to class with sunglasses on. I know that I now must make a decision on who I want to be and who I don't. I know that...when someone shows you who they are--you must believe them. I know...that this...that...whatever that was--was not love.