Just for fun (Ms. Yaya and I going in on facebook - this was the intro)

Haven't heard her words in a while. 
A shame because she always made me smile 
And now the miles threaten to keep us a part
But she continues to be a part of my heart
And my rhythms...
Her style lies deep within them
And I desire to lie within them...

Thighs
All hell, it starts again within our eyes
She lights them up as she removes her clothes
Clears her throat, and curls her toes
She knows
We need to release the beast that feeds our needs
Bust a thrust that's sure to please
We speak
Poetry
The kind to make her drop to her knees
But I always make her wait on me
To go first
Gotta have that first taste
Get in her face
Touch her lips softly with my own and command her to

Spit fiya
Ms. Yaya
Come join me on this poet shit
This breath life into my spirit shit
This lick it before I hits it shit
Dick so hard, bite your lip type shit
This knees start to quiver, you gettin wet type shit
I need it, like you need it and we need it
So just spit it.

Lace ©KHall Photography 2010-2011

All images are available for sale as canvas prints. Email khallfoto@gmail.com

Purple And White Flowers

I had a vision...

One filled with beauty and peace
Of purple orchids and white lilies
Laid out as far as my mind can remember...

It's oddly a warm day in December,
And ur beauty...


it lit the skies all around.

I held u tightly in my arms
And whispered poetry to ur heart...

We laid together in this majestic field of violet and white contentment...

The smell of fresh orchids enticed our deepest thoughts
And made us question how this moment in time could last until forever?

I placed a lily against you cheek
Massaged ur delicate physique
And hoped this feeling I held inside would always linger

The thought and sight of beautiful flowers
Continued on throughout the hours
Until I awoke from my desirable fantasy...

And now here I sit in silence wondering
How I feel about this flower thing
And know inside that u will always be...

My temptation

Missing Out

It started as a faded memory

A distant thought of place and times
When our movements were intertwined with one another

A vision of past experiences
That quickly fades into the distances
Of a forbidden history

Do you remember...

Do the thoughts of u and me
Generate internal energies
That desire to be touch like they were once before

Your memory has me loosing sleep and I'm not sure why
Not that I'm the type of guy to linger upon a forbidden treasure
A passion and attraction that I've sought for what seems like forever

But you...

You style and your confidence
Your stance and, yes, your appearance
Continue to torment me until this very moment

I need your thighs around my waste
Your lips upon my own to taste
And even now, I see ur smile slightly stretching across your face

But not trying to be real rude
Cause I never been that dude
So I suppose all in trying to say is

I miss u

Chapter 10: The Early Stages

         If I had it to do all over again, I would have just let Babygirl walk out of my life, saving her a lot of heartache and pain in the end I’m sure.  But at the time, I felt as though I needed her.  She was everything Lady had not been in my life, and my meager, emotionally deprived soul needed her to tell me things would be okay.

My life started down a path I don’t believe I necessarily agreed with.  And despite this fact, for some reason it became harder for me to stop.  Babygirl and I bounced back from the final encounter with Lady and began to build a truly wonderful relationship, or so it seemed.  You see, I wasn’t exactly sure how I was supposed to keep a young female interested in me.  I never had to deal with that issue.  Lady had taken care of any and all parts of our relationship and now she was gone, fading into my past like a sunset on the horizon. 

Babygirl gave me freedoms I wasn’t accustomed to at all.  She was the woman who comforted me at night when I felt the need to express myself emotionally.  She embraced the friends I had in my life and supported the decisions I chose to make.  When Talent and I wanted to hang out late or head to the club, it was Babygirl who provided the keys to her car and told us to “go have fun”.  Of course, this wasn’t truly how she felt which I learned through time so perhaps one could argue she played a part in the creation of the monster I was to become.

I truly did care for Babygirl.  We had great conversation and communication with each other and spent our fair share of time together.  Talent ensured I showed my appreciation for her.  What I mean by that is any time Talent and I were out together and he decided to get his girl a gift, then I did the same.  A single, long-stem rose here, a stuffed animal there.  Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t completely mindless in this regard.  I still had hints of romanticism.  Babygirl and I would go out to the movies, go for a walk in the park, or just lay around at home and enjoy a candlelight dinner together, but it’s important to know not all of the things I did for my then girlfriend arose from my own initiatives.

Even with all I had, a woman who would do anything with me and for me, it didn’t appear to be enough.  Nor did it feel as if it would ever be enough.  I was cheating.  It began slowly at first, maybe a woman or two every two to three months, but increasing in number and frequency over time.  I wasn’t purposely seeking out other women, but it seemed as if a part of me felt the need to make up for some of the lost time Lady had created.

 

I also didn’t trust Babygirl, or any woman for that matter.  Not that I had a reason not to trust her.  Babygirl was more than willing to give me her all from the moment we first met.  Instead, my mindset focused on the fact anyone can and will do anything to anyone at any given moment, a lesson displayed all to well by my beloved first. 

What I had now accomplished was the development, fostering and nurturing of a relationship with Babygirl despite having a bleeding heart, which had yet to heal.  And it led to me meeting other women, all of whom I lashed out against with all the hurt and pain I continued to harbor deep within.  I held every woman responsible for the actions of Lady, Babygirl included.  My ignorance justified my motives even though the rationale felt hollow.  It became my internal conflict.  As wrong as my actions began to be, sleeping with other women yet finding the moral fiber to look a woman who truly cared for me in her eyes and say, “I love you”, it all felt right to me.  And I began to believe and understand this is how a relationship was supposed to be.

Cheating for me wasn’t an easy transition.  I mean yeah after awhile it became easy.  But the first time was actually extremely nerve wrecking.  People tend to believe cheaters, or players I suppose you could say, are rarely rattled.  I beg to differ.  The first few times, I wondered if I acted differently, walked or talked differently, or even smelled any different.  I became extremely cautious of what I would say or who was around me.  I overcompensated for my indiscretion by becoming more attentive to Babygirl’s wants and needs.  I continued to take her to dinner or out shopping, just more so now than before.  I cuddled with her.  I entertained conversations and discussions with her.  And, of course, I made love to her, as frequently as she wanted. 

It may all sound odd and probably made less sense, but I ensured her desires were always met so there would be no need to question my actions away from her.  Over time, it became easier to live with it.  I realize I probably wasn’t as transparent as I believed I was.  Yet, I was still cautious in my actions and thinking.  That is until I developed the “I don’t give a fuck” attitude.  The attitude matured, making me more maniacal and cold.  And it was based on the following simple premise: the woman who I was with would eventually cheat on me anyways.

 

I’m not trying to make excuses here.  It was wrong, but in my mind, it seemed right because my relationship, as it were, was working.  Babygirl had everything, relationship-wise, any woman could want.  She appeared to be happy and so was I.  I was balancing my emotional life with her by spending time and giving her the things she needed to remain secure.  At the same time I continued to enjoy my party life with the fellas and my extracurricular activities as they arose.  And the extracurricular arose quite often, especially after I pledged.

I remember how it would happen.  The fellas and I would be at a party, and catching the stares of some onlookers, but not really being outwardly social.  I was just dancing and clowning around as usual.  Suddenly one of the bolder females would make her way towards us.  We would exchange names and looks of flattery.  “Boy you have some sexy eyes” would be followed by an “I’m glad you think so.”  My modesty would appear as overconfidence but rarely arrogance.  We would laugh and dance and what have you.  The party would end, but the night rarely would.  We would get an invite to a room or a house afterwards.  I tell this story as cookie-cutter as possible because many times it was pretty generic.

Some women I would be honest with and some I lied to.  Just depended how I felt at the time.  But over time, I learned it was best to be honest with them.  I believed they deserved that at least and it cut down on complications with wanting to be with me.  They understood if I had a girl and I made them aware of it, then our rendezvous would never be anything more than sex. 

It became easy to tell women I had a girl and not worry about the consequences.  A lot of college-aged, sex craving women didn’t care then and probably don’t care much now either.  The organization had placed a label on my chest, which lured in women who were in awe of popularity and almost served as a justification to act the way I did.

Women would come and go so easily.  I learned some important lessons although I’m really not sure how true the lesson were or are today.  Its definitely not a lesson I want to live by now.  But nonetheless, I was willing to live by a simple principle: if your truthful with the women you regard as just random “prey” but lie to the one you care about, then it’s really easy to live a promiscuous lifestyle.  As off the wall as it sounds, the lesson continued to show itself to be true.  It’s ironic how it works, but many women supposedly respected my honesty more than they respected the fact I was in a relationship.

         A second lesson I learned was taught to me by another brother-in-arms and he stated it this way: "The worst thing a woman can tell you is no, and you've been told no before so what do you have to lose."  These are the first words I can remember actually hearing from the brotha known as Truth, and they continue to affect how I treat, act and react to females to this day. 

         Truth was a philosophy major with a distinct, thundering deep, harsh voice, which he used to his advantage.  He had the uncanny ability to be brutally honest with anyone he came across.  It was this bold honesty that would become apart of my inner self, and thus take me into what most people would label as my most scandalous years.

         Truth was a dark-skinned brotha.  I mean blue-black.  For those of you who are ignorant to the term “blue” in the African-American culture, imagine a brother who is so dark, his skin color gives off a tone you couldn't quite label as black.  No, the skin actually takes the complexion of another shade of black.  So dark that in the right lighting, or absence thereof, the skin appears as another shade of color, which we simply call blue.  Ironically, Truth wasn't THAT black, but he was the darkest toned gentleman I associated with.  Anyways...

         Truth transferred the spring semester following my reunion, as it were, with Talent.  He had attempted to join the same organization at his former college, so he was quickly added to our pledge process.  The six current pledges, myself included, got the honor of getting to know Truth at an accelerated pace.  Honestly, as we became acquainted, I really didn't get to know him as a man but rather just well enough to keep any of the pledges from getting punished for not knowing him.  It wasn't until after we were actual members of the organization I really begin to get to know the man. 

         Truth kept shit real.  He wasn't about holding things back to spare the feelings of anyone.  He felt it was a lot better to allow people to hear the realities of a situation rather than pipe dreams, and his thought process carried over to women.

 

I have heard Truth say the weirdest shit to women.  Things like, “I’m trying to have you” or “would you mind if I just eat your ass then.”  If he were rejected, which surprisingly was only on rare occasions, he would usually respond with, "Well if I'm not your flava, then perhaps my man is."

Together, Talent, Truth and I were a force to be reckoned with.  We offered women choice covering the spectrum of wants and desires, from dark skinned to light skinned.  From bold, confident and borderline arrogance to soft, quiet, subdued shyness.  We gave women an option as to how they wished to be pleased.  Our reputations began to precede our presence not only on our own college campus, but also on campuses throughout the states we visited. 

We were three of the freakiest gentlemen a woman could meet who shared the same mindset, drive and affection for the opposite sex.  Though we had the same passions about women, each of us harbored our own beliefs and thought processes.  Our brotherhood and commonalities brought us together and we became the men women both secretly and openly desired to be with.  It was a swagger we portrayed.  The way we made them laugh or dance or tell their girlfriends about the things they had never experienced but had always wished a man would do.  We had no inhibitions and because of that, our bonds grew stronger.

When you begin to feel like you can be yourself around a guy, a brother, then all restrictions go out the window.  We shared our stories of sexual dominance with one another, yet surprisingly, our paths never crossed when it came to having sex with women around campus.  We each had our own flavor, our own likes and dislikes, so we rarely clashed when it came to pursuing women we were interested in.

    It was the talk, the appearance, the lure of sexual fulfillment that I believe ultimately attracted women to us and created the predicaments we found ourselves in.  I mean honestly, if I weren’t there to witness some of the situations we found ourselves in, to partake in it, I wouldn’t believe it would or even could happen myself.  But that’s just the point of this whole thing isn’t it?  I found myself in situations that just don’t happen to people everyday.  Or maybe they do and I’m just naïve.  They hadn’t happened to me until they happened the first time.  And most of these events didn’t occur just once.

      For three years, my life revolved and evolved around three separate personalities: Babygirl and the man she desired me to be, the man she thought I was, and my alter ego living in a facade of women, partying and drinking.  I managed all of this while working full-time and going to school full-time.  The later didn’t work out to well for me.  When you spend the majority of your time in college focused on the opposite sex and trying to establish, build and maintain what I deemed to be a healthy relationship, well something has got to give.  For me, I decided the grades weren’t the most important thing so they were the first to go.  I stopped going to class because having sex was far more important.  I visited classes on occasion when I met a female at a party while I was drinking that I wanted to have sex with only to find out she was in a class I was registered for.  It gave me a reason to attend if only for a day because I honestly didn’t need more time than that.

         It got a bit more complicated once Babygirl and I moved in together.  Looking back, knowing what I know now, I would say that moving in with someone your involved with is the worse thing anyone can do if you’re not married.  Growing up, I was taught living with a woman, or “shacking up” as the older folks used to call it and undoubtedly still do, was just wrong.  It was irresponsible and misleading but to us, it made financial sense. 

It didn’t stop my transgressions.  Sure, I never allowed things to happen in the bed we shared, but unfortunately we lived in a two-bedroom townhouse.  The truth is I allowed the deceit to come inside the home we shared, but it was only on one occasion and I did feel bad about it afterwards.  That was just way to far.  Plus the woman was extremely vocal, and it was just way out of bonds.  I know, now you just flat out hate me.  Don’t worry, I hate myself for it but at the time, it was about space and opportunity.  There was no fear of hurting my beloved roommate because there was never a fear of being caught, even in this particular circumstance.

Chapter 9: Expectations

Relationships are interesting.  Well at least the titles and emotions we associate with each title can be.  I often wonder why we as individuals change our mentality with each level of a relationship.  In the end, doesn’t it make us harder to understand and get to know? 

This is what I mean: We meet a companion, someone we are attracted to for whatever reason, be it because of beauty, intellect, the type of music they are listening to, or because they happen to be sitting alone at a bar just as we are at the time.  After some small talk, we come to a revelation that this is a person we would like to see again on a date, out in public and not necessarily just behind close doors.  Okay, well many of us decide at that moment this is someone I want to fuck, but for the sake of argument, we’ll assume this is an afterthought.

A few occasions pass and suddenly you are now or becoming one of two things.  Either you are becoming friends, which is the ideal path if you ask me, not that you did.  Either you’re friends or you’re dating, depending on your perspective.

 

And now that I’m thinking about it, why do people ask what it is your looking for?  Are there people who wake up in the morning and decide, “I’m going to find my girlfriend or wife-to-be today?”  And if there are people who think this way, I am deeply concerned about their mentality.  I believe if you are looking for a particular thing, then you have in your mind an ideal of who the person is.  You want him to look a certain way and act a certain way.  That’s not completely a bad thing I suppose but the problem I see is you will try to place people into the mold of your thought process instead of getting to know someone for who they are.  If he doesn’t do this then he doesn’t make the cut.  If he doesn’t look a certain way then he doesn’t have a chance.  Why not just focus on being you and keep an open mind so if someone crosses your path, you will be more open to getting to know them for who they are and not for who they could be in your life.

Anyways, here you are.  You have found someone who you seem to get along with and you decide to pursue him or her.  It’s a delicate situation because we don’t want to give off the wrong impression.  You don’t want to come off to strong and seeming like you want to get this man or woman in a relationship and marriage tomorrow.  But you don’t want to become just a friend, a guy or girl who will forever be on the sideline in their life and relationships.

Now some see becoming friends as a dead end.  I mean really, if you’re attracted to a woman and you begin to see her as someone you can be with, why would you want to risk her paying you no mind and moving on with some other knucklehead?  So many times we panic and go into jealousy mode.  We feel like we need to guard our territory maybe.  Or perhaps we don’t want to be threatened by the good will and friendship of another companion.

I’m moving to fast again.  Emotions and titles is where we were.  So when we meet a companion, we present ourselves in a certain way.  We have a choice to be open and honest with whom we are at this point in our lives or we can choose to share only what we deem as the “good parts” of us.  We are careful in this decision because don’t want to scare away this person of our supposed dreams or lustful desires.

The relationship progresses and you begin to date.  Going out to watch a movie or have dinner.  Taking strolls through the park.  Doing anything we can to learn more and more about the person we have just met.  Secretly hoping to get some if the opportunity presents itself but not setting it as a priority.

These things are fine if that is who you are.  What I mean is, if its not in your nature to buy a woman a rose from time to time, then I suggest you not do this in the beginning.  In my experience with life, women tend to enjoy things like this and will expect it to continue.  A fault we make as men is we feel this is just an attention getter; a means of flattery.  We don’t feel as if it will continue to be an expectation as our relationship progresses.  Cards are great to give.  Poetry is my preference, but if we don’t feel like we can keep it up, we might as well expect to argue about it a few years down the road of our relationship.

So again, we present ourselves in a certain way, in a certain light hoping “she likes me.”  We decide after a while things are great so maybe we should try this thing out.  So you decide to get into a relationship.  You decide to be exclusive with this individual.  Most of us are definitely fucking by now which a lot of times can cloud the progression of the relationship, especially if the sex is good.  We begin to see possible flaws in our companion but they are only minor things we are positive we can deal with or handle.  We begin to think differently about our expectations of our counterpart.  Sure as a friend or date, you did this, but as my woman or my man I expect this. 

Why is that I wonder?  Does the title change who we are?  If your companion was a bit of a flirt or had a lot of friends, is it fair to expect it all to end?  Should we not be able to trust that our companion knows when and where to draw the line without sacrificing the person they are?  I’m not saying you shouldn’t expect him to behave, be faithful and treat you as gracefully and respectfully as possible, but what if he is just naturally a social person?  Do we shelter the individual to ensure he doesn’t go astray or do we hand them a rope and allow him to do what he chooses with it until he hangs himself?  I choose the latter.

Next we decide to move our relationship even further.  We cant live without them.  Air seems to loose its oxygen content when she’s not around.  We wake and sleep with this person on our mind and in our heart.  We consider spending the rest of our lives with this individual.  You want to sweep her off of her feet.  You plot and plan how to “wow” the woman of your dreams.  You plan a way to propose a new life together with her, so the two of you can walk hand in hand down the passage of life.  

Now I realize some actions should be modified once you enter a relationship.  If you have chosen to commit yourself to an individual than it is only fair you spend time with the individual and not focus on trying to spark the interest of any other.  But I think a lot of times we have expectations of how our companion is suppose to be.  We expect them to change what is in their character to appease us. 

Maybe this is too confusing to explain rationally.  The problem with expectations is they can differ vastly with our companions.  For instance when I say friend, instantly you think of someone you consider a friend.  Same thing happens when I say fiancée or husband and wife.  Our past and our experiences give us a predetermined ideal of who these people are and how we expect these people to be.  But if my vision of a girlfriend or wife or what have you is different than what your vision is, than will it create an issue?  Will you expect me to change who I am to fit the mold of your expectation.

Bottom line is we shouldn’t expect people to change who they are when we met them to become the person we expect them to be as our companion.  Perhaps it’s an issue much easier said than done.  Or maybe I’m just speaking in riddles.

An End

She tends to pull her hair back when she's angry

Or cut it all off if that's what it takes to see

She can be free

 without the desperate hands

Of a man she can do without

Her beauty is masked by the hurts and shame

Associated with the name she bares

She wears makeup to hide the path of cries she has shed for him

He apologizes...

And she's sorry that he has to

Sorry that her love was not enough to satisfy his selfish desires

Regretful that her screams for help and attention fell on deaf defiant ears

Hurt that her only course of action was to shed more tears

It's pitiful

That he would place her in the same situation again

All alone without a friend in the world

But how else can he express his love for her

Refrains from putting his hands on her

Yet, still abuses her with this emotional roller-coaster

She continues to ride on in her search for happiness

Forces herself into situations to get some type of interaction

And it only pushes the two of them further

It's the same old story

They both struggle since no one wants to be the one to say that it's over...

Even though everyone knows the truth

This is how it all ends...

For our love

Chapter 8: Sentencing

 One hundred hours of community service, $256, and a felony assault on a female is what it cost me to break the strong hold Lady held on me.  My court appointed lawyer felt like it was a charge that would be simpler for me to accept rather than continue the heartache and drama associated with it all.  The female judge could have cared less what my side of the story was unless I had a witness.  Ironically, I had a witness on my two previous visits to the courthouse to stand this so called trial.  Babygirl had seen all of the events that transpired and could have allowed me to walk away without any repercussions.  Once again, I allowed my ignorance to play me for a fool and figured Lady would once again choose not to show up and allow the case to be dismissed.  I couldn’t have been more mistaken.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” the judge told me after hearing the fabricated tale of how I pushed Lady down a flight of stairs and threatened her repeatedly at knifepoint.  I could only stare at my lawyer and wonder how long he would allow this onslaught to continue.  It’s a wonder why so many of today’s youth get caught up in the judicial system.

 

Women have a tremendously unfair advantage when it comes to issues of assault.  You see, in North Carolina, or most states for that matter, regardless of what truly may have happened, a women need only to say something happened then the burden of proof falls on the man to prove his innocence.  Not a task easily accomplished unless you have a witness, and at this moment in time, with all the hurt, disappointment and anger I felt, I was alone.  I was the angry black man who had attacked the “weaker” sex, at least in the courts eyes.

The true story is ironic in and of itself.  I admit I have always had a bit of a temper since childhood.  But I have always believed and stood by the fact I would never and have never laid a hand on a woman.  I believe it to be an act of cowards and those harboring low self-esteem.  But I was angry.

 

The argument had lasted way too long that day.  The relationship was far overdue.  The pain I was never allowed to express was being vocalized.  A neighbor panicked from the uncertainty of the situation at hand.  And the fact I was seen walking around the neighborhood with a knife in hand only exacerbated the fact the police needed to be called.

Lady and I were discussing the why’s and how’s of our relationship.  I couldn’t understand how her curiosity would drive her to sleep with someone I considered to be my best friend.  Can you believe that was the reason she gave me as to why she cheated on me all those years ago?  She was curious.  Ok, I can kind of sort of in a parallel universe while intoxicated and tired understand where she was coming from.  After all, I was, up to that point, the only man she had ever slept with to my knowledge.  But I also felt like our relationship was solid enough to be able to discuss an issue like that if it was on her mind.  And why in the hell did she have to get curious about somebody I was so close with?  I mean damn, she could have at least had the decency to find some stranger.  Or here’s an even better thought, why not shut the fuck up and keep the shit to yourself instead of telling everyone you came to know about what you had done and making me feel like a fool in the process.

I digress.  In either case, the anger boiled.  I didn’t know what to do, so I removed myself from the situation.  I walked out of the house and down the stairs to the parking lot.  I begin circling the building trying to calm myself down.  After all, I had determined long ago this woman was not worth the hassle.  On my third lap around the apartment, I passed her car and stopped.  As I stared at my reflection in the window, I began to think about all the things I had given this woman.  All the time I had spent with her because it was what she wanted.  All of the potential women I put on hold because of our relationship.  All of the ass I had passed up on during my early years in college.  And all the money I had spent a few months back to put tires on this car. 

I continued my fourth lap around the complex.  I reached inside my pocket and pulled out the knife I frequently carried with me.  I don’t know why I carried it.  Maybe it was to feel cool or something.  I was young, and it was just the thing to do I suppose.  I came around the corner again and focused on the front tire of the vehicle.  At that moment, it felt like the right thing to do; to regain some of the emotions I had given for what I deemed were her years of betrayal. 

As the blade pierced the wall of the front tire, I could hear the sound of air being released and with it my pain, sorrows and misunderstandings.  I inhaled deeply as the front end of the car sank further to the ground and I could feel the release of pressure from my heart.  I felt free at that moment.

I started back up the stairs towards the apartment door and saw Lady come storming outside.  She passed by me silently headed to her vehicle.  I walked inside the apartment, shut the door behind me and locked it.  I could see Lady reacting outside to the revelation her car was immobile.  A smile grew across my face and I felt redeemed, but only for a moment as I suddenly realized Babygirl was pulling into the parking lot.  I opened the door and my argument with Lady erupted as Babygirl stepped out of her car.

“Yes.”

Babygirl was leaving in a fit of hurt and rage once the police arrived.  Lady was standing on the curb and flagged down the officers.  I wasn’t sure what she said, but something suddenly felt very wrong with the whole situation.  I was getting ready to get in my car and follow after Babygirl when one of the officers told me I needed to remain at the scene.  An ambulance showed up shortly after and escorted Babygirl away.  I asked what was going on but it seemed as though no one was willing to answer any question I posed at the time.  Next thing I know I was being read my rights.  After hearing my side of the argument, the officer assured me it was merely a formality.

The first court date came and passed.  It took me time and money to return to my hometown where this whole fiasco had transpired.  Having to take an hour and a half to drive all the way into the city only to be told the case would be continued because the “victim” was not present was a bit disturbing.  My lawyer asked what I felt Lady’s true intentions were.  I had no idea.  I would have never thought it would have come to something like this.  He listened to my side of the story and told me I should have nothing to worry about.  Besides, I had a witness.  Babygirl had continued to stand by my side through hours of explanations and days of apologies.  And she had made the journey to court with me to ensure things remained fair.

A few months later, a return trip was in order.  Again, Lady did not show up.  My lawyer decided at this point all of the hassle was Lady’s last attempt to hurt me, but perhaps she had realized the error of her ways and decided not to pursue this futile effort of hers.  It sounded good to me.  I hadn’t spoken with her for months.  And besides, the thought of even being in a courtroom was becoming repulsive to me.  I hadn’t gotten so much as a speeding ticket growing up and the only trouble I had found myself in were the childhood fights we all went through growing up.  I had witnessed plenty but kept my distance from trouble. 

My lawyer’s over-confidence assisted with my downfall.  A few months passed and again I found myself back in my hometown waiting to hear my name be called from the list of the accused.  My lawyer and I sat in the back of the courtroom talking about nothing.  I was feeling relieved knowing I would no longer have to deal with this time consuming venture and I’m sure he was content because he would get paid regardless.

Just when I was preparing to leave near the end of the bailiff’s final call, a door opened and Lady walked in.  Looking back now, it was actually quite dramatic.  Here is the threatened female, too scared to show up in court alone, now present with another female friend by her side.  This slim woman wearing glasses played the victim role so well and I looked to my lawyer for answers.  His suggestion, since my witness wasn’t present, was to plead guilty in hopes the judge would show sympathy towards a first time offender who had realized the errors of his bad judgments.  It sounded good to a young, scared nineteen-year-old black man.

Well, the problem with this was after my plea, they allowed Lady to speak.  And she did what she had come to do.  She would make sure I was punished for my disobedience.  She would ensure I was forever scarred for my disloyalty.    She would get on the witness stand in front of everyone who remained in the courtroom and lie about the whole thing to a biased female judge.  She told them how I pushed her down and pulled her down the flight of stairs trying to remove her unwilling body from the premises.  How I threatened her at knife point and slashed her tires as she struggled to get in the car and drive away.  Maybe she should have been the writer; she was definitely more imaginative than I could ever be.

 

For far too long, Lady’s actions had scarred my being and had not allowed me to ever truly trust a woman or give them my all.  I learned at that moment I could only control my own actions so I stopped concerning myself with the actions of those I chose to be with when they were not in my presence.