How to Lose a Husband

by Toya Wright

  “I do! I have like 200 followers!”

  “Lola! Take your page off private.”

  “I don’t want people all up in my business,” I said.

  “You don’t have no business,” British blasted. We all chuckled.

  “Paris, you aight over there?” British asked. Paris was doing a lot of grinning, not much talking.

  “I’m just enjoying listening to y’all argue like little school girls.”

  “You seem distracted.”

  “You know,” Paris started, “I’m still messed up in the head. Finding out your husband is gay just does something to you. From the beginning, this nasty muthafucka was doing who knows what with men…then coming home to me! Why did he pick me? Why did he use me to be his beard? I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to love again. To trust a man, you know?” The tears coursed down her cheeks.

  There was a loud silence as each of us imagined different circumstances where we found out our men were having sex with another man; the kind of thoughts that crash around in your head causing your heart to stop and beads of sweat almost to appear.

  “I can’t imagine,” Madison broke the quiet. “Me and Robert have our issues, and no offense, your situation is just a disaster.”

  “I mean…” Paris wiped the snot away from her nose, “he never gave me the option. He never mentioned it. Not that I would have stayed if he had. But, he never told me! I just feel so…so…fucked up! Now how am I supposed to move forward like that shit didn’t happen? I just keep asking myself why I didn’t make a bigger effort when he started changing.”

  “It’s not you, girl!” British shouted unconvincingly. “There is nothing wrong with you. He prefers to be with men. So, unless you are going to grow a penis, there ain’t much you can do.” British’s comedy club stab bombed.

  “Even if you had made a bigger effort, the outcome would have been the same, Paris. It just would have happened sooner,” Madison said gently.

  “I feel like I can’t trust guys anymore. How can I believe anything a man says to me?”

  “Nope! You can’t do that!” Kennedi climbed into the convo. “You can’t take past demons into a new relationship. You have to give your next man a clean slate or it’ll never work. I know I opened up Pandora’s box having threesomes with Ty, which probably encouraged him to cheat on me. But I’m not going to think every man will cheat on me.”

  “They all cheat!” British said matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, with hoes like you around who don’t mind being side chicks, it’s easy for them to cheat, British.” That was certainly a point of contention for British and Kennedi. Kennedi really felt some kind of way about British sleeping with a married man, now that she lost her husband to a side chick. Now British’s claws were so deep into a married man that she was imagining a real future with that bum.

  “Kennedi is right, Paris,” Madison put her six-figure law degree to use instantly putting out the fire between Kennedi and British. “You have to give the new guy a fair shake. Don’t drag these drama-filled, sad emotions into new possibilities. You’ll only create issues that don’t even exist and drive him away.”

  “Like I did with Doc,” Sade added. “I drove my man away. You can bet your sweet ass it won’t happen with the next one.”

  The waiter walked over to the table holding two plates. Behind him was another waiter carrying a round tray with the other dishes. They sat our respective plates in front of us. I peered onto Sade’s plate, because she was sitting next to me and there was a big pair of googly eyes staring back at me.

  “That lobster is big enough to eat you, Sade!” I said.

  “Not if I eat him first,” she cracked a claw and dunked it in melted butter.

  “Paris, when the right guy comes along, you will know it. You will want to open your heart to him. Sade, you need to not be so driven by money and glam. There are more important things than only having your bills paid. If you cared about the way Doc treated you, you would have kept your damn legs closed,” I let them know. Sade cut her eyes at me, I pretended not to see.

  “It’s definitely too late for coulda, woulda, shoulda’s!” Madison threw in, “Sade knows how to handle her situation going forward.”

  “I’m sure she does, after beating herself up enough about it. Madison, we have to get creative with ways for Robert to bring in that cake,” I laughed.

  “Well, I didn’t ask…but since you seem to have all the answers…what do you suggest?”

  “Definitely something other than music. Maybe try encouraging him to really dig into his hobby.”

  “That’s really thinking outside the box, Lola,” Madison responded sarcastically.

  “British, why are you holding on to Stacks so hard? Do you think he is really going to leave his wife for you? Or do you just enjoy torturing yourself with the twisted fantasy? You are the only one at this table who is putting themselves through a bad situation. Wherever that man is right now, I’m sure he’s not thinking about you. I really hope after this trip, you will realize your worth.”

  “Bitch.” British’s response was more how she said what she said. Her eyes didn’t even blink while she stared at me. She called me out of my name in anger.

  “Here we go,” Kennedi murmured at the same time as Paris fumbled a fork onto her plate with a loud, CLUNK!

  “I’ve just been sitting here listening to you; I respect what you’re saying. We all come to you with our problems, giving you all the tea and I feel like you’re very judgmental when your shit ain’t all the way straight. We come to you because you are the most stable, the most calm and you got your shit together. We look at you like you have the perfect relationship. That may be the case now, but nobody at this table judged you when you had an abortion from being out here hoeing around and didn’t know who the daddy was.”

  That was a real, clutch-my-pearls moment! I think I stopped breathing. As a matter of fact, I know I did. None of the girls knew. Except British. It was one of those moments where you have a secret that you don’t want everybody to know, yet you still feel comfortable confiding in at least one person. Well, she was my one. And for her to release that devastated me.

  “Lola, is that true?” Kennedi asked in disbelief.

  “When the fuck was this? I’m so lost right now!” Sade added.

  “What’s your angle, British? Oh, now you’re coming for me?”

  “At the end of the day, we are all friends. But you are getting on my nerves singling us out one by one giving us your unsolicited opinion.”

  “I am happily married.”

  “Lola, get off your damn high horse. I know you ain’t coming at me with this shit. Miss My Husband Is A Regular Dude And That Bores Me.”

  “I am committed to KP,” I defended.

  “Lola,” British snapped her fingers, “quit faking the funk, Boo. Living out here in these shadows almost got you fucked up!” She jumped down my throat. My appetite was being carried out to sea with the waves. Further and further away.

  “You’re being ridiculous! This isn’t about me.”

  “Why not?” British jerked her head up from her plate. She took another bite of her coconut shrimp. “You always have so much to say about our lives and what we are doing wrong, but the mirror you look at yourself with was so shattered that you couldn’t see the problems you created for yourself.”

  “That’s the past.”

  “And for us, this is now. Let us figure out a way to navigate through our own shit so it will eventually be in the past. Please and thank you.”

  Compared to my friends, I was the ‘normal’ one, the plain Jane. I had a regular boring job although my husband’s was a little more exciting. When I met KP in college, we had high aspirations for our future. We were excited at the prospect of graduating, getting good jobs, and starting a family. Things didn’t work out for us right away. We dated a little bit, but at 20, I was not trying to be tied down so the real dates turned into me telling him to swing by my place an
d bring rubbers.

  He was down with it, then things dwindled away. I was having so much fun, I barely noticed I was seeing less and less of him, until I saw him walking around the mall with LaKesha Grant ol’ knock-kneed ass. She had a cute face, with that short, ‘juices and berries’ hair. She was tiny, like five foot even. I confronted KP about it and told him I wasn’t crunk about him seeing her. He let me know he was tired of me treating him like an option. That was it, boom, kaput, over! The next time I saw them, they were hugged up sucking face as if their lives depended on it.

  I busied myself with studies and clubbing. One of the beauties of going to school in a collegiate town like Tallahassee was the whole town revolves around collegiate-aged people. There was something to do every night of the week. I would see KP around.

  Seeing one another had the same effect on both of us. We would look, do a double take, try not to smile, burst into a Kool-Aid grin, then get a little hot and bothered in our pants. He even did it when he was with LaKesha Grant; he diverted her attention rather than let her see what really had his mind occupied.

  Somehow, some way, I graduated…Thank you Lordy! Not ready to join to ranks of real adulthood, I went straight through to get my masters in accounting. My friends were living fabulously. They were getting their hair and nails done every week. Between all of them, they were getting the hottest bags and dope shoes from the season’s most sought after collections.

  I wanted to be the first to rock something for a change. I wanted to see something expensive and hot and own it just by merely mentioning it to a guy with pockets deep enough to splurge on me. I wanted the new cars with upgrades every two or three years.

  Taking a trip to Atlanta, I ran into KP. It was almost magical. I was at a club with some friends and wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I walked in, he was standing right at the door! I saw him before he saw me. My heart completely stopped beating. I scanned the area real quick, looking for the skank who stole my man, that heffa wasn’t anywhere around.

  I walked over to stand about 10 or so feet away from him. Out of his reach, but clearly on his visible radar. It was the first time I’d seen him in two years, at least four since we stopped sexing. I stood with my legs spread somewhat apart and stared him in the eyes. Letting the beat take control, my head fell back, I closed my eyes and gyrated slowly to the music. I squinted to see if he was watching, he was. It was so dark in there, he couldn’t tell I was squinting.

  One of his friends started walking over to me. I rubbed my hands around my neck like they were supporting my head. KP pushed his friend out of the way, walked over and kissed me. We’ve been together ever since. He was good marriage material, the kind that you dream about when you envision your future.

  KP was the man I saw an actual future with. He was ready to settle down and be a one woman man. In our mid-20’s, we were still young with the world at our fingertips. We got married a year and a half later in a grand ceremony at the Hilton. Daddy footed the bill.

  Before our marriage license was even approved by the State of Georgia, I was pregnant. Guess I got pregnant on my honeymoon or shortly thereafter. We were scared, but excited. My parents were overjoyed to become grandparents. I came from a good home. Both parents in the home, and they are still married, 44 years all in. They did a damn good job raising me and my brother.

  When we found out we were expecting twins, there was more pressure. Most of it would be on me since KP had such a crazy schedule finishing school and getting his hours in. My parents jumped in to help, making the process seamless. My boys were born healthy and perfect. Identical.

  I was happy to come home from my accounting job to the family I loved so much. KP graduated and started his rounds into plastic surgery. Choosing that specialty of medicine, his hours were set. He wasn’t up at 2:00 in the morning like emergency room doctors. By the time he got home, homework was done and dinner was cooking. And…that was it. That was our life.

  KP was bringing home that gwap and he paid all the bills. I kept my whole paycheck and went to work faithfully every day. I worked to keep me sane, because staying in the house with twin babies was definitely a kamikaze mission for me.

  Most people would be happy to have that kind of money coming in. To me it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. You would think I would have been happy to have a husband who was gainfully employed and who cared about me. If I had a bad day, he brought home Nestle Crunch bars or big, sour pickles…my favorite snacks. He sent me sweet texts during the day. He spent time with the boys, but always put me first. He was kinda on the square side. I trusted him completely.

  I lived vicariously through the drama and romance of my friends. Listening to those girls was way better than watching a movie. They were living life and having fun. Somewhere between becoming a wife and a mother within nine months, I lost who Lola was.

  KP and I were stuck in a rut, a boring routine of work, home, homework, football or soccer depending on the season, showers, bedtime stories, bi-weekly sex and a fierce Atlanta commute. And depending on whether the kids were sick, teething or couldn’t get to sleep, the sex may or may not happen. That was where we were.

  I knew he loved me and he showed me. I never pumped my gas, he made sure to always fill my tank. I never even had to tell him I was getting low. He routinely “surprised” me with beautiful flowers every two weeks. We went out to dinner for our date nights twice a month. He was incredibly supportive when I applied for new jobs or started working on more certifications.

  It just wasn’t enough, it never was. I was bored at home and bored at work. Being an accountant is terribly dull. The same thing every day. A cubicle, spreadsheets and stupid meetings where they regurgitated the same info week after week. Where was the excitement? Where was the sense of spontaneity? Why couldn’t I fuck my husband in the car in the parking lot when we left our date night? Why wouldn’t KP sit me on the island and eat me out like I was his breakfast? Why couldn’t he surprise me with a Chanel bag just because he was walking in the mall and liked the color? When was he going to plan a trip for us and tell me in just enough time to pack and scramble to the airport?

  One day, British invited me to a basketball game with her. I hated to go on a school night, but I made sure everything was set out for the boys the next day. By that point, they were going on eight or nine years old, so they knew what time it was and how to get themselves in bed. All Daddy had to do was give them the word.

  I dolled up in ripped jeans and a cute shirt with some decent pumps. British scooped me up and we went to the game. She was seeing one of the players so we had good seats. After the game, we went to an after party. So, whatever team wins usually has a party to celebrate. Nothing crazy and over the top, but alcohol sometimes drugs, lots of food and drinks.

  Going to the party seemed like a good idea. Until we got there and British was all boo’ed up in the corner with her guy which left me alone with no one to talk to.

  “Ya girl ditched you, huh?” A male voice said to me. He was standing over me. With me in heels, he was still easily a foot taller than me. Sitting down, he made me feel like a child.

  “How did you guess?”

  “You look like a lost puppy,” he laughed. “Marcus.”

  “Lola.”

  “Whatever Lola wants…Lola gets,” he started singing.

  “That’s why my mom named me Lola. She loved that song.”

  He walked around the bench and sat down. For the next hour or so, we talked. I kept glancing in the corner to see what British’s fast ass was up to. They went from standing across from each other, kissing, to his hand up her skirt. All I could do was shake my head. But sitting there, it all became clear to me why she and Sade craved being in those types of environments.

  It was so electrifying to be surrounded by money. Real money. Ballers. Tall, muscular athletic types who could buy you just about whatever you wanted. They made sure you ate good and fixed your drinks. It was fast and fun and free. It was the kind of place that mak
es you forget about your problems in the real world.

  When British was finally ready to leave, I introduced her to Marcus. I thanked him for keeping me company and walked out. He followed me out of the party and asked for my number. I was hesitant, but I gave him my work number.

  Marcus was my dude. I was sure he had other chicks, but they didn’t matter to me. When he was with me, he made me feel like the only girl in the world. He gave me that fresh relationship kinda feeling, all giddy when I saw him or when he called.

  It was exciting to steal away for a few hours and meet him in a room, have wild crazy, I can’t get enough of you sex, then go back to my normal life. It made me feel attractive, wanted, something KP wasn’t giving me anymore. Marcus had popularity and money, especially groupies…yet, he wanted me. Little ol’ me. I got caught up in it, I couldn’t show him that though.

  Marcus told me the reason he fucked with me is because he could tell I wasn’t the same as the washed-up, cookie cutter, plastic girls they see in every city. I had a real career and something going for myself. He never interfered with my married life. I never interfered with whatever he had going on.

  He was younger than me, by about six or seven years. And, oh, did he have a sex drive. Seeing him for a few hours here and there wasn’t enough for me. I wanted more. I craved him. We talked on the phone every…single…day…I started feeling the need to spend some real quality time with him.

  I told KP about some bogus conference that I made up with my job and took a few personal days from work so I could travel on the road with him. We had been seeing each other for a whole year by that point and were very comfortable. He had to squeeze me in where he could. It was basically four days of Marcus and I, nothing else. KP was able to handle getting the boys to school and had his assistant pick them up from after school.

  Selfishly, I was no longer imprisoned in my boring routine of a life. I was able to get the release I deserved, just not in the way that a wife and mother should. Whenever I was sad, Marcus sent me money. If I had a bad day at work, he sent me money. He bought me a pair of Louboutins that I lied and told KP I splurged on because I just had to have them. KP wasn’t that tight on my wallet so I could buy things like that every now and then. Marcus bought me a few bags as time went on. We had a long talk about him pumping the brakes on the gifts. I was still married and had to be able to explain everything.