“You need to learn how to keep your personal shit private from the eyes of the world. Show some things, BUT keep it classy”.
That was the last bit of advice that I gave my friend before we had a falling out and cut off all communication between each other.
Here I am now, and almost one year later, those words echo through my mind.
I stood under the stream of scorching hot water pouring from my showerhead. Without much concentration, I rinsed off the remaining soap suds, tinkered around with my broken shower knob, and raised one leg over the tub.
I cursed as the icy breeze slapped my body and I fumbled over to close the window. The remaining cool air cut through my daydream and allowed me to focus again.
I really miss my friend.
Yea, we argued and howled at each other more often than we should’ve but I can’t stop my thoughts from drifting to our good times. I don’t hate her for the things she’s done to me so why not rekindle?
I reached into the kitchen drawer and pulled out a knife. With the cabernet sauvignon in one hand, I stabbed the top of the bottle, grunted and tugged, then managed to pull the cork clean out. I don’t know why “get wine opener” never makes it onto my shopping list.
Still wrapped up in my towel, and my 26” Brazilian body wave dripping wet, I sat down at the table and poured myself a full glass.
I was trying to kill some time before my new fuck-buddy came tapping his knuckles at the SIDE door my dogs usually come in and out of.
He’s not anything to talk about. Just a nigga that I met at work and mess around with here and there on the low.
I opened up the Instagram app and started typing in my old friend’s name. I smiled at her profile picture and could tell she’s doing good… but I clicked on one of her most recent pictures and can tell she’s actually doing GREAT!
It was a picture of her finger with the letter ‘Q’ and a heart under it. Next to her finger was a much larger finger that had the letter ‘K’ and a heart under it. The caption read, “Forever Mine #nationalboyfriendday”. I scanned through more photos to try and get a peak at if her boyfriend was cute or not but there was only that faceless photo of the two of them.
I want to reach out to her later and just let her know I still love her and we should grab mimosas soon.
My thoughts were interrupted by my fuckbuddy’s voice booming through the door as he yelled for my dogs to get off of him. I took one more sip of wine before I got up to go rescue this grown man.
In that moment I realized that if she is able to find someone that puts up with her crazy ass and make him her boyfriend, then I must be doing something wrong. Maybe she’ll spill her tips when I reach out to her. For now, let me just get my pussy ate so good that I’m forced to forget about my trigonometry class that’s kicking my ass.
An hour later and my mind was focused on how the hell I’m going to lie and get this nigga out my bed this time. I always blame it on how I have to study, or one of my friends just so happen to call me at the perfect moment.
When I rolled over to put my chin on his smooth, dark, tattooed chest, I caught myself looking at him in another light.
I parted my lips in a “Joanne the scammer” smirk and flashed my big almond eyes at him.
He sat up and started grinning, showing off his pretty set of perfect teeth.
“Girl, you better stop looking at me like that before I fuck around and start calling you mine,” he suggested.
A small part of me wanted to just let him. Like, why not? The only reason I never thought about him like that was because he and I worked together. We’ve been quiet all this time, hung out and explored the city several different times, and actually enjoyed each other’s company. He’s everything good and still has a little mysterious side to him.
Before I got too carried away in my thoughts, I position myself in between his legs and had the urge to practice sucking the soul out of his dick. I was going to pop back up afterward and say something cute like, “okay then baby, I’m yours”.
He followed me with his eyes and soon caught my gist. He pulled down his pants and loosely grabbed his dick. He started giving me the same kind of “Joanne the scammer” look and then said, “Damn baby, you’re going to treat me tonight?”
As I pulled in closer to his penis, my eyes grew wide and I screamed, “WHAT THE FUCK!” Over and over again before I really got so disgusted and cussed him out…
Please tell me how many guys you know that also walk around with the letter ‘K’ and a heart under it on the same finger I saw on my old friends Instagram picture?
I won’t go on to say what happened next, but I will say there’s a nigga out there with a bruised dick.
So my question to yall is: Since it turns out that my old friend and I had a real R.Kelly and Usher “Same NIGGA” kind of moment and she doesn’t even know… should I still reach out to my friend or nah? I don’t even know what to feel. Am I mad at myself, mad at the nigga? Mad that my friend took the ONLY piece of advice when it comes to “keeping her personal shit private from the world”. Should I tell her?