A Lover's Mentality

by Sade L. Collins

  “Look, Yemya, apparently you ain’t done enough thinkin’. I’m gone have to call you back.”

  Click.

  That is it. The nigga hanging the up phone in my face. I think about calling him back and acting like a ratchet bitch going off. Instead, I play it classy, scrolling through my calling list and call my sister, Kenya.

  “What’s up, bitch?” she says as if she’s out of breath.

  “Nothing, just got off the phone with Shame.”

  “Bitch, is you serious? I’m going to have to need a drink over this conversation,” she laughs. “How did it go?”

  “Well, he hung up in my face,” I laugh into the phone. “I think the statement is rather funny coming from my end. After he hung up, I did feel rather stupid and had a dumb look on my face. I even want to call him back, going off—calling him all kinds of names under the sun. And, yes, I have that, ‘Oh no he didn’t’ look on my face.”

  “And you find that funny? Did you tell him about the abortion?”

  After telling Kenya how the conversation went between Shame and I, I realize that there is no fixing us. As much as we tried, we would continuously make up to break up. “The conversation started off good. It just ended on a bad note. I guess you can blame that on me and my big mouth. He isn’t worth telling the abortion to anyway. What he don’t know won’t hurt. It’s not like he give a fuck anyway.” I sigh into the phone.

  “Look, Mya, you have been through this love roller coaster thing with a nigga once before. Don’t let a thuggish attitude and a big dick fool you and get you in some shit. You are better than that, lil sis. For real, don’t let just one man get the best of you and have the upper hand. People always say go with that gut feeling, girl. If you don’t, then you are going to regret it later. It’s not worth it, Mya. I’m telling you—if you have to fight a bitch over him, then leave him alone,” Kenya says. “No king should make his woman feel like she is less of a queen.” As much as Kenya wants to see me happy, she doesn’t want to see her younger sister hurt over one guy when the world has many to offer. She was right; I am too young and beautiful to be feeling lost out of love over Shame.

  “As much as I don’t want to admit it,” I say with a laugh, “but are right, Kenya. I need to stop trying to win this battle with Shame and just find my own battle to fight.”

  “I’m not trying to tell you what to do or anything. I’m just trying to tell you like it is. But if you are feeling Shame and want to be with him, then go for it. Like I tell everyone I love, just be careful with your heart. You can’t be having everyone in your business. You know how your friends are. First thing they hear they are quick to tell you and you are quick to go off. What’s between you and Shame needs to stay between the two of you.”

  “How can you say that when I don’t know what’s up with him? I question him because of other people say.”

  “Mya, he key word is ‘other people.’ I know I told you not to get sprung, don’t fuck off and let other people dictate your actions. If he is some girl’s baby daddy then fuck it—so be it. Is he a man? Does he have a job? If none of that applies to Shame, let him be; he’s not the one for you. Is he trying to protect and provide for you? I fuck and use you as a getaway house. Leave these sorry-ass niggas alone because in the long run it’s going to be more trouble than what it’s worth. Then you are going to say, ‘I should have listened to you, Kenya.’” She laughs.

  When I think about my situation, I realize that Kenya is right. Shame and I are losing our love and we’re not meant to be together. I’ve gone through this make-up-break-up with him long enough, along with the baggage of a sour relationship and also carrying the burden of aborting my baby. Something that I try to get over, but I can’t. I toss and turn with restless nights, picturing my life with my child that I killed. I rock myself to sleep at night while my tears fall from my eyes. I guess Shame is my only connection of feeling a sense of love from a guy. I want it to be that way. The white picket fence, two story house… the fairytale every girl wants--- something to live for. Things like this or a life situation is what brings you ups and downs, turning your tears into frowns. I’m learning to believe that it’s true. It was all starting to make sense to me.

  9

  “In the end, what matters the most is how well you live, love, and learn to let go.”

  I say that I will try to never get attached to no man, but throughout this relationship, Shame has made me open up to him one-hundred percent. When it came to him, I would’ve put him first before anything. Although I find myself making contradictions I just can’t help that at times, my feelings get in the way. Love is confusing, it makes you bring about so many uncontrollable emotions, thoughts and feelings. Even my own damn friends try to make me feel guilty by making me regret my relationship. Why should I? We live and we learn, right? I feel that part of me has Shame and part of me wants Shame just as much as I can’t stand him. It’s a love-hate thing if you ask me. Besides, how can I even get upset about what happened the other day? In a way, I believe I’m the one wrong. I have done my dirt when it comes to confronting and being mad at Shame. I never question him, I tend to get straight to the point by accusing him. That’s how it is when you are between two brick walls. I want to break things off with him—well, not any more. I’m not even sure if I should be mad about the gossiping that goes on. When you bring other people into your relationship, you bring nothing but drama. As much as I try to steer away from it and not let it interfere with my relationship, I try to remain grounded. At time I feel as if I can deal with it, but then again, I really can’t. I can tell myself that I can all day, but behind closed doors, I feel totally different.

  From the outside looking in, Shame got me. No one else can have it like that but him. What’s crazy is that he doesn’t know how good he has it. So many other men want to wife me, but I’m faithful to Shame. I guess that’s why I’m still in this position … once again with Shame.

  I need to be a down-ass bitch for Shame. We’ve been through so much just to let shit go now. I comb my hair into a wrap. I can just laugh at myself for sitting here trying to uplift my spirit. If only he knew those same men that he call his “boys” are the same “boys” who are in my ear telling me to break up with him. Like his cousin, Mack, who sends me pictures of his dick as if I want him! I have yet to tell Shame about Mack being with the shit. Who does that? I mean, folks just don’t give a damn these days. Mack is that bold to purposely sending me pictures of his dick. Really?

  Speaking of dick, why it is on my mind? Just the think about Shame and the times that he made me feel so freaking good by fucking me. Now all of sudden I done got myself all riled up and horny tonight. But damn, who can I call to drill me in? Ugh, too bad I’m not a freak hoe who fucks around. I refuse to call Darryl. Um, PJ? Nah, it’s over with for him.

  Shame is the only guy I’ve been sleeping with. He is my comfort zone, and sex has always been with him and no one else; therefore, going to someone else for some dick action is out of the question. It’s a respect thing. Good pussy ain’t just given out to anybody. Boss bitches keep their pussy locked up. I’m very stingy with mines. Shit, that’s how you suppose to be. A female will gain a lot of respect by respecting herself. It’s best to be stuck up then to be giving it up.

  I guess that is why Shame is over here now. A couple of days ago, he hit me up apologizing for hanging up in my face. Apparently, his excuse was that his phone died. Funny thing about it, I know what it was. With me being the person that I am, I let the shit ride and told him that he can come over to keep me company. Sometimes you just have to play the game on how it should it be played. Shame is with the shit and I know it.

  “What’s up?” Shame asks, walking into the living room with a cup of ice in his hand, then sitting next to me.

  “Nothing,” I say as I gaze at him while he crunches on the pieces of ice. Just by looking at him makes me want him even more. In the mist of him biting and sucking on the ice, I imagine that it’s me in
place of the ice and I’m immediately turned on. Omg, I am horny; I am trying to prevent myself from having sex with his ass. After breaking up with Shame, I decide to start back chilling with other guys. Kenya was right; Shame and I aren’t married so why am I devoting myself to a cheating-ass nigga anyway? As they say, two can play that game.

  Hearing my phone vibrate, I reach over to grab it so I can read the text. Looking at the screen, I see the message was from Darryl.

  Wats up? wat u doin?

  Nothing really. just chilling. What about you? I reply, pressing send.

  Jus wuz thinkin’ ’bout u. U chillin’ by urself?

  “Who you over there textin’ this late at night?” Shame asks as he sashays over to the sofa and sits down next to me.

  Glancing at him, I laugh to myself at his nosey question. I swear men get defensive when someone is hitting you up at twelve at night. Hell, the nigga was getting phone calls, picture messages, and text messages throughout the night, and now he wants to question my actions? Do not let your phone go off back to back; it will surely bring red flags. “Why are you over there being nosey? You are here with me, so it really shouldn’t be a concern of yours,” I say as I continue to text Darryl.

  Really what was on your mind? & no, I’m chilling with Shame …

  “I know you ain’t gonna sit here and text all night, Yemya.”

  “Shame, if it is bothering you that much than you are more than welcome to go to my bedroom or leave. Last time I checked, I do pay the bills here.” The resentment for Shame has kicked in and affected me as a whole. There are times when he was all that mattered to me--- everthing else was out of the picure. But fuck that, I don’t too much matter to him—now the shoe is on the other feet. Sometimes you have to learn not to bite the hand that feeds you. The script has flipped, and I am steering this ship now.

  Getting up from the couch, Shame walks away, mumbling words under his breath. If I’m not mistaken I could have sworn he said, “And she wonder why …” Hell, wonder why what? I think to myself. “What was that you were saying? I didn’t quite get the last part,” I inquire, turning my attention back to the text conversation with Darryl.

  “Nothing, Yemya! Damn!” he says as he slams my bedroom door. I lean back against the couch and ignore his tantrums. Now the tables have turned. I don’t give a fuck about what Shame do. I’m gone do me. Knowing good well that I won’t cheat on the nigga—it’s not in my character. But the nigga need to realize that I can do it too that’sif I want to walk in the shoes of a cheater. I don’t know what I’m going to do about Shame; one thing that I do know is that I refuse to play the fool in this relationship. I’m not going to fault him, neither will I continue to act stupid as if his cheating is never wrong. Looking over the text, I reply back to Darryl, implying that real love overpowers everything, and if Shame loves me like he says that he does, then I’m sure that we can get through this. For the simple fact that Shame has been doing his thing, I feel the need to be revengeful, yet I can’t work up the courage to fuck around like that. It’s not in my character to do so..

  Getting up from the couch, I walk over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water with my phone in hand. Feeling the vibration of the phone notifies me that I received another text. I take a sip of the water, then place the bottle back on the counter. Leaning against the counter in a comfortable position with my butt supporting me from behind, I read Darryl text. He text back stating that I should let Shame be and that I needed to be with him. Men have a crazy way of thinking of being next in line once a nigga acts up. Some men even stick around until that day happen. Hell, some men don’t mind being boyfriend number two—the same goes for females. But then they start to act crazy as if you belong to them. Ha! Crazy as it seems and yet it is very true. I am a firm believer that two wrongs don’t make a right. I know Shame have done his dirt. I am aware of that, but I’m not going to lower my standards and dignity just because he fucked up. That was his doing, not mines.

  He don’t realize what he has. Darryl texted me before saying good night. In fact, Shame don’t realize what he has, but he is sure to find out. That’s for sure.

  10

  “You never know what you have until it’s gone.”

  Yesterday seemed as if it was the first day in a while that Shame decided to stick around. I don’t know what it was, if he was into it with all of his bitches or what. In a way, it was strange, because I have gotten use to him coming and going. I am at the point where my walls are starting to build and the feelings of resentment are molding into my character. Yet at the very same time, it feels good that he was even here. For just that moment, I am under the impression that Shame actually gives a damn about us. After texting Darryl last night, I realize that I would only be hurting myself by playing the same games that Shame was playing. What else can I say, I cared about Shame. As much as I want to be mean to him and let him be, a of me wants to at least try. Anything is worth a try, right? I think so.

  Last night, after bathing and climbing into my bed, Shame stretched his arm out, wrapping it around my waist, pulling me in close. He told me that he cared about me. As much as I tried to hold back and stand my ground, I gave in. My walls collapsed. Feeling our bodies entwined under the sheets caused my body to shutter. Although it was dark in the bedroom, I felt his eyes trace my body as he climbed on top of me, pulling my oversized T-shirt above my waist. I gasped as he slowly shoved his dick inside of me.

  I am knocked out of my train of thoughts of Shame and I making love last night by my loud Beyonce’s ringtone. My phone is on my nightstand.

  Reaching over across the bed, I pick up my ringing phone and see that PJ is calling me. I haven’t spoken to him in a while. He usually texts me to let me know that he’s thinking about me. I would be mean and brush him off.

  Before I met Shame, PJ was my boo thing. We never went beyond a little kissing and touching, which went on for about a year. I really have a thing for him until he didn’t want to settle for me, which really fucked my feelings up. After pouring my feelings out to him and then watching him laugh as if my words were nothing really altered my thoughts on us. I usually give him the cold shoulder. Instead, his phone call caused me to answer it.

  “Hello?” I say as I sat down on my bed.

  “Dannnng, I thought you wasn’t gone answer the phone,” PJ says with a laugh.

  I smile as I listen to his laugh. I missed that a lot about PJ. I remember sitting in his blue Monte Carlo and just talking about everything—life, love, but never about us.

  “Now why would you say that?” I ask.

  “You don’t have to shoot the shit with me, Mya. You been acting funny. I don’t know if it was because I told you that I wasn’t ready for a relationship or what.”

  “Oh, well—”

  “Well, what? Shame got you like that? Got you acting funny around a nigga?”

  “No, PJ, he don’t.”

  “I can’t tell. How have your relationship being going anyway?” he asks.

  After venting to PJ about Shame’s cheating, he says that he knew it was bound to happen one day. “Shit. I thought you were happy since you kept pushing me to the side.”

  “I am happy, P.J. Besides, you wasn’t trying to make a commitment to me, so why does my relationship matter to you?”

  “It matters because I care about you, Yemya. A nigga didn’t want to settle with you because I feel that I would hurt you. I mean, after reading your letter when you sent it a few months ago before you met Shame, deep inside I feel the same. Just didn’t know how to express that.”

  Speechless and unable to respond back to PJ’s testimony, I lean back against the headboard and exhale. To know that a man cares about you enough to not want to risk hurting you is priceless. For that, I can’t help but to respect PJ for his actions. Hearing the phone beep in my ear, I looked at my caller ID to see that Shame is calling me.

  “Look, PJ, it was good talking with you. But the boo is calling on my other end, so I’ll ha
ve to call you back.”

  Laughing, PJ reluctantly says okay and then end our conversation, agreeing to speak on later terms. I click over to the incoming call.

  “What’s up, Shame?”

  “Damn, took you long enough to pick up, baby. What’s up wit you? What you doin’?” Shame asks.

  “Nothing really, just chilling. You left in a hurry this morning.”

  “You were sleeping so good, I didn’t want to wake you. I have to handle some business. I can make it up to you though?”

  As much as I want to consider that an option, I decide against it. Besides, it’s time for me BlueCross Blue Shield, bills do not pay themselves. Having Shame coming over for a quickie just isn’t going to cut it for me. A quickie is more of a tease, only giving you a little bit of satisfaction. Me, I want to enjoy a long fuck session and then fall asleep with my ass poked out and my thumb in my mouth.

  “As much as I’d love to, Shame, I’ll have to take you up on that offer some other time.”

  “Ooooh okay,” he say with a little disappointment in his voice. I don’t know why he has the long face for. Hell, my shit wasn’t the only shit that he was getting, so he wasn’t missing out on nothing but my time. As much as I want to tell him that I’m willing to call into work just to be with him, I know in my mind that I need to be firm with Shame. By me being firm will only make me feel more confident and courageous enough to free my heart from loving him.

  It just takes a little strength from being fed up that comes from within if you ask me. That’s the only way I’ll be able to get by. Lucky for me, he is just on the other end of the phone. If he was here, before it is all said and done, I’d be calling my work and letting them know that I overslept and was running late.