He’s the Reason Why I Stopped Dating for a Year

Ya’ll. This is a wild ass story. I don’t even know where to begin, but my spirit says it’s time to release this past experience into the universe. I wrote about my Maya Angelou funeral horror and even opened up about the scary decision to quit a job out of the blue. My blog is my safe space and sometimes it’s scary as hell, however, I cannot rest until I share these wild moments from my past. So here goes.

I wrote a blog about my decision not to have sex for 400 days and people continue to talk about it. I was in a business meeting and a man said, “Oh you’re the one that told everyone about your sex life.”

How I responded:

I couldn’t be mad at him or anyone else who claims to know me based on my posts. I simply replied, “Yep, it is she. I am her” and kept it moving. He looked at me like I was dumpster trash, but hey, life goes on. Anyways, in that blog, I briefly mentioned the man that led me to reevaluate my relationships with the opposite sex. At the time, I knew I wasn’t ready to write about him. The experience was too fresh. Two years had passed since our ‘incident’ and I didn’t have the emotional capacity to open up that can of worms. Instead, I reduced him to a few sentences within the blog.

My feelings were hurt. He deceived me like no other. To this day, my best friend says, “Yo, I can’t front, he got you good.” And he did. Here’s how the story goes. I won’t give you his real name, so from this point on I’ll refer to him as Dexter (just like the sociopath from the TV series).

In late 2013, a sorority sister and I went out to a bar for our usual Friday night of binge-drinking and white people watching. Call me racist. Call me insensitive. White people know how to throw a damn good party and I love to attend them. On this particular evening, we go to this hipster area in Charlotte, bar hopping and dancing the night away. There I met Dexter.

Four months later, I wish the fuck I didn’t.

I was standing at the bar watching white people, white people when Dexter took me by the hand and pulled me to the dance floor. We danced for what felt like hours. It was probably only 10 minutes but you feel me. He said, “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out by yourself?”. I pointed to my soror who was dancing with his friend and said, “I’m not alone. My girl is over there with your boy.” Then some slow corny song came on and he tried to kiss me.

I just turned 25 a few months prior and was too grown to be kissing strangers in the club. I  literally ducked as he slowly inched toward my face. Dexter was so damn fine, but not that damn fine. Then I noticed his speech was slurred and he began to get off beat during our dance. He was drunk. I patted him on the back and said, “Good dance” then proceeded to walked away from him.

Small encounter, never did I think fuckery would ensue months later.

My soror and I left the bar about 45 minutes later. As we walked to our cars, we passed by an SUV with a man’s body hanging halfway out of the car. As we got closer, it was Dexter’s drunk ass. He had passed out in the back seat. My soror said, “Are you okay? Where are your friends? I hope you’re not driving.” He managed to tell us that he fell asleep waiting on his friends who were still inside the bar. Dexter was about 5’7″, 190lbs which is way below my requirements. He was still attractive, but his behavior was a major turn off. I looked at him with disgust and said, “Girl, he’ll be fine, let’s go.”

The next day a good friend of mine was celebrating her birthday and I was super amped to go out that night. But first, I had to volunteer at an event for kids. That day I was running around chasing 40 small people when I received a call from Dexter. Clearly, I was a bit more inebriated the night before than I remembered. Somewhere between him taking me by the hand and trying to kiss me, I gave Dexter my number. I looked down at his name on my phone answering with an uneasy:

I didn’t know what to say to this man. He did all the talking, apologizing for his behavior the night before and expressing his desire to get to know me because I seemed like a nice girl. I made our call super brief because I was busy working the volunteer shift and promised to text him later. We text all damn day.

Later that night, I went out to celebrate my friend’s birthday. It would be the last of my clubbing days in Charlotte as I was growing jaded by the nightlife and social circles. I never fit in with the cool kids. We sat in VIP and I remember thinking, “Man, I hope my girl is having a good time because I’m not.” An hour later, Dexter text me and asked if I wanted to meet up for a bite to eat. I jumped up from the booth with my friends and said, “Ya’ll have a good night, I got a date.”

To this day, I don’t know why I have friends.

I gave out hugs, thanked my friend for the invite and hopped in my car. I pulled out of the parking space only to pull back in. There was no way I could meet this man. Not tonight anyway. I looked like two different people. The night I met him, I was wearing my disloyal wig. The second night, I wore my natural afro. My fro was pretty small at the time, so I wasn’t proud of my length in the least. If anything, at this stage in the game, I was ashamed of my hair. My colleagues poked fun at my length and asked how much I paid for wigs, truly, it was an ugly natural transition. But it’s just hair right? I am not my hair. Hair is only an extension of beauty.  If he didn’t like my fro, then surely he wouldn’t like the woman rocking it. I pulled out of the space and proceeded to the restaurant.

I got there, stepped out of the car, expecting him to make a funny face or issue a snide remark. Instead, Dexter looked at me with a big smile on his face and said, “You look nice. I really dig your hair.”

A keeper. So I thought.

We sat down to eat and he told me a little about his background. Dexter had recently moved to Charlotte a year prior and was still making new friends. This meant, the ratio of women that I knew in the city who had likely smashed him was low. Win! So sad looking back on my priorities. When he told me that he had a son, I nearly walked away. At the time, I was still young enough to have the “ew, you have a baby get away from me” attitude yet old enough to realize that grown men will likely have children. The child wasn’t really the issue. I asked Dexter if he was in a relationship or seeing anyone, he said no. *Stick a bookmark here.

I gently pressed him about the relationship with his son’s mother and he said, “She’s a really good friend. I know this sounds bad. We met at a concert one night, hooked up and she got pregnant. That was seven years ago.”

Yes, that does sound bad. But hey, everyone has sketchy nights only mine never end with the birth of a human. At the end of the night, he didn’t approach me like he did the prior evening. This time around, Dexter gave me a hug and walked me to my car. He was sweet.

Even Satan was once an angel.

The weeks passed and we were texting nonstop, still kicking it. I grew more enamored by his charm and wanted to spend my free time with him. I worked 3rd shift and he worked while I slept during the day. Seeing each other proved to be a challenge unless I visited him an hour before I needed to be at work. Our interactions weren’t long due to our tight schedules but we still enjoyed each other’s company.  We made it work, communicating on a daily basis. Just before Christmas, he told me that his son was coming to visit and he would be spending time with him. I assured him that I had no desire to meet the kid and would be in and out of town visiting with family. Dexter promised me that we would link up once his son returned home.

Two days before New Year’s Day, Dexter called me to invite me to his upcoming party. I was thrilled that he wanted to ring in the New Year with me. I had recently rededicated my life to Christ and had intentions of going to church for Watch Night service. I thanked him for the invite but told him that I needed to be in church, however, I promised to come by afterward like the Jezebel I intended to be for the night.

Here’s where the conversation got weird. Dexter asked me if it would be okay if his son’s mother came to the party.

Dexter assured me that they were just friends and I had nothing to worry about. You’re damn right, I had nothing to worry about. He wasn’t my boyfriend. Or was he trying to be? I figured if he wanted to start a new year with me and had the courtesy to call, then, of course, this man was to be taken seriously.

Me looking at me for thinking that.

While I was at home for Christmas, my dad asked if I was seeing anyone and immediately I began gushing over Dexter. I told my dad about all the material things, the house, the car, good job, etc. And my dad issued a valuable message I’ll never forget.

“Are you supposed to be impressed by his house and nice things? Trust me, if you’re inside of his house, there is a line of women waiting outside to get inside. Your daddy used to be in the streets. I was a bow wow just like these young guys. Be careful.”

I thought it was my dad just being a hater like he normally is 115% of the time, so I brushed off his subtle warning.

New Year’s Eve flew by. The church service came and went. I shed a few tears in service mainly because I felt convicted about the debauchery that was about to pop off the moment I left the church parking lot. Above all, I was thankful to see another year. I kinda loved my job, had decent money, lived in a nice community, and was on the brink of a new romance. Life was good.

After church, I scooped up three of my girlfriends and to Dexter’s house, we went.

We arrived around 1 a.m. and the house party was just getting started. Dexter introduced me to all of his friends, meanwhile, I’m looking over my shoulder to see if I could find his son’s mother.

Me searching the house to determine which of the women resembled Dexter’s son.

One girl was leaving as I entered. We had a brief exchange. I couldn’t tell if she was drunk or if she recognized me as Dexter’s new flame. Little did I know she would be the least of my worries.

I went to the kitchen to make a drink and another woman walked passed me with the most suspicious look on her face.

Archive footage of our encounter. (I made this gif just to show you the intensity.)

I was cool and she was bothered. Our eyes danced. Who was this chick? It didn’t matter. Dexter and I danced, kissed nonstop, snapped some photos, and took a number of shots.  It was beautiful.

I noticed the woman continued to glare at me as she walked around the house with a black trash bag cleaning up after everyone. Surely he hadn’t hired a maid? Who is she?!?!?! Towards the end of the night, the mystery lady wearing an ill-fitted peplum top, belly spilling over her leggings complete with a worn out sew-in began inching closer to me. With that damn trash bag in hand, she stood beside me and said something slick under her breath. It was like a record scratch in the movie.

In my early twenties, I was an angry drunk. By 25, nothing had changed.

This girl had been trying me all night and my friends noticed too. This is literally what happened. I rose up from my chair and asked, “What’s good, you got something you need to say to me?”.

My other two friends were at my side ready to jump like Offset and Takeoff.

I am Quavo.

To provide a visual represenation of this heated moment, my third friend saw us from across the room and darted over like Cardi B.

I could hear the heavens playing C-Murder, “Down for My N*ggas.” These are my least ratchet friends and they were ready to defend my honor. What a blessing.

Once the girl realized we all linked up like the Power Rangers, she responded accordingly, “Oh I didn’t say anything” and walked away with the trash bag.

The entire energy shifted in the room and I could tell my friends were ready to go home. They were being hit on by Dexter’s sleazeball friends and growing restless by the hour. Finally, I told Dexter we had to go. He and I kissed, the girls and I bounce. The car ride was silent. I figured everyone was tired and hungry so I stopped by the Waffle House. Here it is 4 a.m. on New Year’s Day and the four of us just attended a strange party with strangers. Finally my soror said what we were all thinking.

“That girl really wanted to fight you.”

We all busted out laughing. Each of them told me they observed the unknown assailant staring at me the entire night. I assured them that I didn’t know her and that Dexter didn’t have a girlfriend.

My three friends responded like this:

Was I a fool? No way Dexter had a girlfriend.  He was courteous enough to inform me that his son’s mother would be there, surely he wouldn’t deceive me? This man was in his 30’s and too grown to play games?

I was a dummy forreal.

Dexter and I didn’t speak the next day or the day after. Matter of fact, about five days passed before we saw each other. I went to his house on my day off and kicked it with him before he went to work. Before I arrived, I gave myself strict orders in the car not to mention the girl from the party. I didn’t want to come off jealous or nosey because, at the end of the day, he and I weren’t in a relationship. Fifteen minutes into my visit, I asked about her.  Couldn’t help myself. Dexter claimed not to notice her hostility the entire evening and quickly dismissed her  existence.

I make poor decisions but I am no idiot. I left his home that evening know that it would be my last. Days turned into weeks and we didn’t see each other. The phone calls ceased and the texts became one-word responses, if any. I couldn’t let this go. I had to know what was up with him and the girl. Remember that bookmark from earlier? Here we are.

Finally, I called Dexter and said, “Be real with me. You invited me to your party knowing your girlfriend was there, didn’t you?”.

Ha! He was caught red-handed. I had backed him into a corner and there was no way out. Dexter had to answer my question. Damnit, I don’t invest five months in people for no reason. Speak man! Do you want to know what he responded?

Dexter coldly replied, “And? I’m a grown man. I do what I want to do. So what? Either you’re with it or you’re not.”

Me:

Bruh, you got me there. I responded, “Cool” and hung up the phone. This wasn’t cool at all.

Two months later, my best friend text me, “Is this the guy from the New Year’s party? I forgot his name.” Moments later a photo came in of Dexter on one knee at a baby shower for the girl from the party. She was pregnant at the party all along. About four months pregnant to be exact. As I type this entire story, I realized for the first time in three years that Dexter never lied to me. He did indeed tell me that his son’s mother would be at the party, only he didn’t say which mother to which son.

Turns out the mystery woman had a name. She’s Erica. Looking back, I feel bad for her. Erica was in a relationship with an emotionally abusive man. Only a relationship counselor could save their relationship that seemed doomed from the start.

Remember the sex blog? Here’s what I said about him:

“In 2014, after I found out the guy I was dating had a pregnant girlfriend, you know I chilled all the way down. Pimp down. I took a dagger to the heart.”

I didn’t call Dexter or bother to send something petty via text. I was embarrassed and more than anything pissed off that I let him play me like a fool. Summer came and went, I went on my various road trips and met several eligible bachelors and wouldn’t give any of them the time of day. I couldn’t risk it. Dexter had disrupted my spirit causing me to distrust any man that entered my presence. Later that year, I met the most incredible guy who I hope to one day be marriage material once he gets his shit together, but that’s another story.

In early 2015, I ran into Dexter at a bar. I sat down and stared a hole in him. Oddly enough, he was working at this bar. I wonder what happened to the “good job?” Dexter pretended as if he didn’t see me. Matter of fact, he wouldn’t serve me. Someone else did. I frequented that bar with friends and each time I saw him, Dexter would walk in the other direction to avoid me. Finally, I stopped going to the bar because I realized I was fostering a grudge that was controlling my emotions. Clearly, I hadn’t moved on.

By November of 2016, one week before I moved away from Charlotte, some friends and I were out in Uptown and we passed by the bar. At this point, I was over Dexter. Much time had passed, to the point where new fuckboys had come and gone from my life. My friends suggested we stop by for a quick drink and when we get inside Dexter is behind the bar working. In a year’s time, his beard had grayed and he was bald. I had put on a few pounds and now rocking my new curly Oprah wigs. At first, he didn’t recognize me. Dexter did a double take and smiled. I smiled back.

Funny thing is, this exchange happened just over three years to the day that we met.

Dexter came over to me, reached across the bar and we shook hands as though we were calling a truce. I looked down at Dexter’s hand, no ring. He complimented my new look and I asked how Erica was doing. He looked confused. And I said, “I thought you and Erica were married now?”. He uncomfortably responded, “No, we didn’t get married.” Then I say, “So how’s your new baby?” He looked confused again because he didn’t realize I knew about the extent of their relationship. Dexter simply replied, “The boys are good.”

We carried small talk. I had imagined the day when I would sit face-to-face with Dexter and how I would respond to him. Would I be snooty? Should I brag about my awesome life? Maybe I could finally put him in his place? I didn’t feel a desire to do any of those things. In a year’s time, after he and I parted ways, then following my decision to postpone my love life, I had grown into this mature woman who can carry an amicable conversation with someone who hurt her in the past. I blossomed into the woman I was destined to become from a painful glitch in my twenties.

At the end of the night, I informed Dexter that I would be buying all the drinks that my friends and I had ordered. He printed out my bill itemized with all of the drinks and the total read $0.00. Looks like Dexter had grown too. Giving us free drinks was his way of extending an olive branch. Here, I had to ask myself if I wanted to be a jerk and stiff him on a tip. I even considered leaving $1.00, well below the standard tip amount. Instead, I left him a tip totaling the amount of the drinks.

Now we’re even.

The saying goes, “No need for revenge. Just sit back and wait, those that hurt you will eventually screw up all by themselves and if you are lucky, God will let you watch.”

In the last three years, Dexter looked like he’d been to hell and back, that was all I needed to see.

I’ll never know why he spent so much time with me and while in a relationship with his pregnant girlfriend. Maybe I was an easy target and gave him the attention that she couldn’t. Or maybe, she was everything he needed and more. I’ll never know why and learned to stop questioning. Sometimes shitty things happy to redirect us into the paths that we’re destined to take.

I should write a song about Dexter. Our short-lived situationship makes for a great story.

“Why you bother me when you know you don’t want me? Why you bother me when you know you got a woman? -Sza”