Photo: Instagra / @theshiggyshow
I really don’t have time for a personal blog today. I have a list of deadlines staring at me like daggers and I really need to buckle down in order to fulfill them. Facebook is to blame. Jesus told me not to scroll this morning, and I did, then instantly this meme appeared.
Never have I felt more connected to an image than in this moment. I must be obedient to the spirit and write about a less than stellar moment from many summers ago.
Summer 2009…here we go.
I guess I should preface this by giving you context about Spring 2009. My friends and I call it the “lost semester.” It was my junior year of college and the year I began to enjoy the fullness of undergrad. I played it safe freshman and sophomore year maintaining a 3.3 gpa or higher, never missing a class and excelling in my major. I was on target to graduate early, but instead of focusing my energy on getting the hell out of there, I began to bask in the temptations of being a young adult living away from home for the first time. I became a heavy alcohol drinker, partying every weekend starting Thursday night through the wee hours of Sunday morning. Looking back, if I needed to be intoxicated to enjoy myself, then probably I didn’t need to be at the party in the first place.
For three months I avoided going home because I was having such a good time enjoying this party lifestyle…that is until my mama called me and said, “You better be sitting beside me in church on Sunday.” I drove home two hours, attended church feeling like a dirty heathen, then went home for her to tell me, “Tyler, your drinking is becoming excessive and it’s dangerous. I’m afraid you’re going to get drunk one day and rob a bank.”
Me listening to her words of caution:
Within a year, I wished I’d listen to my mother. I was 20 years old and thought I knew it all. My mom and I recently revisited this ugly moment from my past but she doesn’t recall using a bank robbery as an example, but okay sis..you really went to that extreme. My mom was frightened for me.
Okay…back to the meme. The semester wrapped up and I started my second summer internship at a cable news station. I also took two summer classes, didn’t need either one of them..but yeah…I didn’t let my wild ways overflow into my scholarly ambitions. I stayed in the area all summer until one weekend a “then-friend” invited me to a house party back home. A classmate who became my friend that year is from the same city so I offered to drive her home and invited her to the party. Today, she is my best friend — I will reference her as such from this point on in the story.
We get to the party…it’s LIT!
Archive footage of how I walked into the party:
My “then-friend” is there already drunk out of her mind, she greets me and introduces me to her friends. Now my best friend, she’s an introvert, immediately finding a corner on the couch to people watch. I join her.
We danced from our seats.
Then it happened. I laid eyes on the finest man of my college career.
I turned to my friend and said, “Yeah, I’mma have to get to know him by the end of the night.” (I’m ashamed to give you guys the exact quote..)
Then I danced a little harder hoping he’d notice.
He quickly noticed. Fam, it was like a scene out of a movie. We locked eyes from across the room. He bit his lip, I smiled. Then he slowly walked in my direction. I thought to myself, “Oh shit. It’s happening. What do I do?”. The guy reaches out his hand to me and I slowly stand. He leads me to another part of the living room, which was the dance floor, then I turned around and did the only thing I knew to be right.
I threw my ass in a circle like there was no tomorrow.
My best friend watched from the couch.
My other then-friend is in a corner grinding too.
She looks at me with pride.
Sis had snagged my dude’s roommate. We had reached peak friend levels.
This was the scene for the next 20 minutes.
Ole dude was buff and I was pushing the 200 pound gang that summer. I really needed somebody to keep up with my two tons of fun.
The party ended and we actually took a few minutes to talk. I got a few quick stats: He was a football player and a Que Dawg. (Note: the last Que dawg that I kicked it with took me out of the game in 2016. I rededicated my life to Christ because of him.) And he was fine AF. Jackpot.
My school didn’t have a football team so it felt as if I’d won the lottery.
Looking back, I had no standards when it came to the opposite sex. This right here was a shining moment. We exchanged numbers and he said, “Next time you’re in town. Let’s kick it.”
My parents lived a few minutes from his apartment so I began to plot how I’d see him this summer. Between work, school, and my internship, I really didn’t have ho time built into my schedule, but I figured out how to make it work. For the next few weeks we text and connected on Facebook. I went through all of his pics and everything seemed to check out. My then-friend who was kicking it with his roommate assured me that homie was a decent guy. Let’s be real…he was a dawg and I knew it. (Pro tip: Stay away from people who enable your toxic behavior.) I gushed about him to my best friend and she said, “Are you sure about this?”. That’s what she always says when I’m headed for imminent danger. Hence why we’re still friends. She looks out for me.
I didn’t care, though, I wasn’t looking for anything long term. To spare you extra details…I made another trip home a few weeks later and we indeed kicked it..
Okay cool. This was in June and I penciled him in as my summer fling with the intent to cut ties once August rolled around. He was in summer training for football and with all of my obligations, it was clear what we wanted from each other.
I went over to his apartment one Sunday night and his line brother (LB) was there.
(For those unfamiliar with NPHC, an LB refers to the relationship between fraternity brothers that joined the organization in the same pledge class. They are truly the closest in Greek structure seeing as how they went through hell together. In the Greek world, it is improper to come between an LB or LS, line sister, especially in terms of a sexual relationship.)
Anyways, my guy introduced me to his LB. We’ll call him, Justin (that might’ve been his real name, I don’t even remember). Justin wasn’t fine. He was HANDSOME. Initially, I thought to myself, oh he’s cute. The three of us talked for all of five minutes, then my guy’s phone rang and he stepped outside. (We’ll revisit that call later.) While my guy went outside, Justin and I engaged in the most thought-provoking conversation of my 20-years. I was saying shit that I didn’t even know I had knowledge of. We talked about science, politics, economics, etc. He was pre-med. (An aspiring doctor..wheeet!?!?) At the time, most people pegged me as a party girl, which, I was but dear friends, I practice duality. By day, I was an emerging journalist on the Dean’s List and by night, I was a whiskey connoisseur. Honestly, I rarely presented my best side in public. People loved wild Tyler. This guy was different, he was the first guy to look beyond the foolishness and pull out my philosophical characteristics. Oddly enough, he was a stranger to me, and I felt no need to wear a facade. Fifteen minutes passed by and I’d forgotten why I was at the apartment in the first place. Justin was the kind of man who had the kind of endearing qualities to lead a nation. Truly, he spoke as eloquently as Barack and was as wise as Ta-Nehisi Coates with the physique of Michael B. Jordan.
Justin was a fine ass Que, football player, and a scholar.
Above all, I could tell that he had a good heart. Then, I heard the door open. Back to reality. Our moment came to a screeching halt. My guy walks in and says to Justin, “Alright bruh, I’ll see you later.”
Fam, I knew what he meant.
Translation: “Get out. I’m about to buss shawty down.”
Justin paused and gave me a look that I will never ever forget. His expression was one of, “You don’t have to do this, sis.”
My nonverbal response:
For a split second, I considered leaving. I thought about getting in my car and going home. But fam, I was in too deep. While not one sexual thought crossed my mind about Justin, I silently told myself, “If you leave now and keep in contact with Justin, both of them will think you’re a ho.”
Don’t be a ho.
That’s where my 20-year-old mind went. Forget the potential for a friendship, I cared that two strangers would think the worst of me.
Justin respectfully shook my hand and told me it was a pleasure meeting me. (I’d see him again in the near future and never did he look at me the way he did the first time we spoke.) Sigh. Once Justin left and my guy closed the door behind him, it was over. We “kicked it” and his phone kept ringing during my visit. He was acting weird each time he answered the phone.
I went home and did some Facebook digging, my guy had a girlfriend in school at Georgia Tech.
But I was in good company. Remember, my then-friend was dating the roommate? We’d later find out that their apartment was known as the slaughterhouse.
So. Here we are. Nearly a decade later. Where are they now? So much bullshit but here’s what I can say:
-My best friend is still my best friend
-My then-friend is no longer my friend but she is now married. Good for her.
-The man known as “my guy” is still my Facebook friend. He is also married, not to ole girl at Georgia Tech though. (But his wife looks just like his college girlfriend…shiny wigs and all.)
-Justin is in Georgia making 6-figures newly engaged to his fiancee…the veterinarian.
-As for me? Well, you already know. I found God and still out here slanging these blogs.
I highly doubt Justin was my husband or even the potential for a boyfriend. The true tragedy of this story is that I reduced myself by allowing nonexistent attachments to these men control me. Oh, how much time we waste day in and day out, not making the best decisions for ourselves in fear of judgment and shaming of others. No, I don’t believe in ho phases, slut-shaming or any other social construct that describes a woman that enjoys sex equally as her male counterparts. I do believe that you should do what you like and create situations for yourself that work in that moment. Sometimes you can see the long-term implications..other times, it’s best to just go along for the ride and pray for the best. Nine years have passed by and there are no missed opportunities or could’ve would’ve should’ve moments to ponder. Just like the rest of the funny moments in my life, they all make for a good blog.
And that meme?
There’s only one thing that you can do in this situation…
Girl, give that man your number and DM his LB within 3-5 business days.
They’re going to talk about you anyway, might as well give them one hell of a conversation piece. Selah.
I died lauhging. good write
Thank you, Shane, for reading my post!