Author: TPatterson

The Worst Night Ever

Last weekend I was at home chillin like a lazy bum when my phone rings. The phone number on the caller ID is unfamiliar but I answer it anyway.

“Heyyy TEE!” a voice says with a giggle.

Huh? SYLVIA!

Ahhhhhhhhh!

Sylvia was the FIRST woman I met when I got to college.

She’s…different.

Ms. Sylvia hails from the luxurious city of Naples, Florida. She’s a mixed chick, her Mom is white and her Dad is black, but she’s mixed in more ways than one. LOL!

I must say this is one woman that I will never get tired of chilling with. She’s mad cool without being an airhead, she’s smart without being a nerd and there’s something about a person that has been right there growing with you, that makes me feel so grateful to know her.

Deja Vu’ all over again when I first came to UF. I went off to college knowing absolutely no one , (boo-hoo) and for some reason all I kept meeting were guys. The women were not as friendly. It was the second week of school and I got a call from a guy I had met named Orlando. He told me to meet him outside our dorm and we would walk over to Trusler Hall to meet a girl he knew. “Ya’ll both be talking about ya’ll don’t have know any girls, so I may as well introduce ya’ll,” Orlando said and then laughed. I walked over with him and smiled when I saw…Sylvia.

She was petite and cute like me, with a BIG smile and a cool personality. We exchanged numbers and to this day I consider her to be one of my closest friends.

It is amazing to sit and chat with her talking about college in the past tense. I remember we’d travel all over Florida together; enjoying partying, wildin’ out and the whirlwind of relationships that we’d hurricane through. We’d have memorable girls nights; I’d grab the crab legs, she’d come through with the Corona’s, we’d rent a movie and never get through it because we had so much to talk about. Man! The college life. It’s over. What’s next for us?

“Girl I moved back to Miami!” she screamed.

“Ahhh, we’re going out tonight!” I cooed.

She laughed. “Yeah, I wanted to go down to South Beach because I haven’t been in a minute.

I roll my eyes. I have. But oh well, each time down there is an adventure.

“Come pick me up now and we’ll hang out at your place and leave from there.”

She scoops me and we head west to her part of town. Her apartment is cute, but ridiculously overpriced. We sit on her bed and under a thick cloud of herbal essence we proceed to update each other on our lives.

I call my girl Melissa and tell her to be ready by 9pm. I tell my little sister too. Sylvia must have been too gone to hear me because by 9pm this chick was still painting her toes.

I am the most impatient person alive. And when Sylvia stands in front of the bathroom mirror for, no lie, ONE WHOLE HOUR, doing her MAKEUP, I’m about to stab her with her curling iron.

“I’m sorry Tee, I didn’t know you wanted to leave so early. These guys wanted to go with us and I told them we’d meet them after midnight.”

Ughhh.

My sister calls and tells me she’s not going anymore. Melissa calls and says the same. I know it’s way too late to find a parking spot on South Beach, and I’m irritated.

It’s almost midnight and she’s finally ready. I must admit, she looks great in a classy black tube dress and high heels, but damn, she should look like a STAR after taking 20 years to get dressed!

I know it’s cold out so I’m wearing some simple black pants and a cute red top with my staple jean jacket.

We meet up with the guys and as expected they’re not cute. But oh well, as long as they’re buying drinks I don’t care. We all roll out and we make it down to SoBe in record time. Ofcourse it’s almost 12:30 am. so theres no parking and we pull into this parking garage that is charging $15!

First of all, when I go out, I don’t expect to spend any money, but I bring $20 just in case. So I fork over my half of the money and we park. It’s FREEZING cold outside and the clubs are charging $20 to get in and free drinks all night.

Sorry, I’m not paying for a damn thing.

We finally find a club with no cover and we walk in. No wonder, there are maybe 8 people in there on the dance floor.

We order drinks and sip waiting for more people to come.

They don’t.

The guys we are with sit down and Sylvia asks me if I want to go to another club. I’m like, yeah.

She goes over to the guys and comes back to me. “They don’t have any more money to get into another club after paying for parking so I told them to stay here and we’ll be right back.”

They don’t have any money?!! WHAT?!!!

Q: What kind of man goes out with NO MONEY?!

A: The kind that will never see my face again.

We leave and go next door to the place that I called Chico Heaven last time I was there, Club Empire. No cover for the ladies, ofcourse we go in. It’s hot! Great crowd, good music. We order drinks and I’m ready to shake my booty when Sylvia grabs my arm.

“We can’t stay here long. As soon as I finish my beer we have to go back to the guys.”

“Why?” I ask. I can’t believe her, this is a great party.

“Cuz, I sorta left my keys and my cell phone with them and I don’t want to get seperated.”

I roll my eyes. THIS chick…

So we can’t dance. We’re just standing there on the second floor against the glass raling peering down longingly at the pulsating crowd while she drinks her beer.

We leave and head back to the free club and to the spot where we left the guys. They’re gone.

“I can’t believe they left. And since I don’t have my cell phone I don’t know their numbers to call them.”

“Use my phone, it’s almost dead but call your phone. Maybe they’ll answer.” I scream over the loud music.

I sit down on the white leather couches and wait.

She comes back to me and says she called her ex boyfriend and told him what happened and he said he was on his way. Her asshole of an ex boyfriend? I roll my eyes.

In the meantime it’s already almost 2am and I am so tired. I lie back and put my feet up as the crowd in the club gets thicker.

I can hear the party, but my eyes are so heavy that I can’t see it.

Sylvia comes up to me and says that he ex showed up but he wasn’t ready to leave so he told her to wait for him there and he’d be back to take us home. Whatever…

“I’m gonna go back out and check more clubs to see if they went in there,” she tells me and I cuddle back up in the corner of the sofa. I consider calling someone to come get me and I take out my phone. It’s dead. Thanks Sylvia…

I’m stuck at some club on South Beach at almost 3 in the morning with relatively no cash and no cell phone. And Sylvia has dissappeared in search of those missing broke guys.

Her ex never comes back to get us.

Sylvia shows her face again and nudges me. “Ok, how about we go back to the garage to check and see if they have left yet?”

The elevator is broken so we walk up five flights of stairs in the freezing cold and see that their car is still there. We then walk back down five fights of stairs in the 40 degree weather and walk the strip to see if we can find them.

We’re both in a pissy mood so we practically scream at the guys who are trying to talk to us, “LEAVE US ALONE!”

“Ok,” she says after a half hour, “It’s too cold out here, let’s go back to the garage and maybe they’ll be there soon.” I’m suffering but Sylvia is REALLY suffering. She is basically wearing nothing and the winds are ridiculous since we’re so close to the water.

We hike the 5 flights back up to the car and we stand there and wait. And wait.

And wait.

And freeze.

And wait.

She pees in a corner of the garage.

We wait some more.

I ain’t never going nowhere with this chick again.

I kick their car, leaving a scratch. I take out my lipstick and write all over their windows.

“Tee, don’t take it out on them, you should be kicking my car, not theirs, I’m the IDIOT who left my keys with them.” Sylvia says while crouching behind the car, trying to shield herself from the wind. “Just go Tee.” she encourages me. “Just call someone and leave me here. I’ll be fine.”

“Just shut the hell up! I’m not leaving you here in the cold by your damn self!”

We wait.

We wait.

The parking garage is slowly emptying. One by one we watch as the cars leave. We stand there and wait. We ask the time. 4:45. Oh good, the clubs close at 5. They’ll be here soon.

We eventually walk back down the five flights of stairs and onto the street. I see two guys walking toward us. “That’s THEM!” Sylvia says.

I walk away. I’m headed back to the garage, back up the five flights of stairs.

When I walk up two flights and I don’t hear them behind me I get worried.

I walk back down to see Sylvia scream and grab her phone.

“What the FUCK is going on?” I scream at them.

“Chris (her ex) ran into the guys earlier and he TOOK MY KEYS!”

I want to cry.

The guys can see I’m pissed. Sylvia is calling and calling her ex but he doesn’t pick up his cell phone. She’s screaming all kinds of obscenities into his voice mail.

When we get back to their car they don’t say anything about the lipstick.

They drive me home. I slam the door without saying goodnight.

The next day I wake up at 3 p.m. and my Mama says that Sylvia came by to drop off my purse which I left in her car.

“That girl is so dramatic,” my Mama says. “She walked up to the door with her head hanging low and she kept apologizing over and over again, telling me to tell you she’s sorry. Lookin like a simp. Boy I tell you, you can sure tell she’s one of YOUR friends…”

Yeah, she’s my friend alright.

~smiling~

Never a dull time with this chick. ~laughs~

But I’m sure we’ll hang out again.

Chain of Fools

Ok.

So I know I have short hair, a relatively deep voice and a sex appeal that is unmatched by most. And I know, I’m guilty, I check women out on a regular basis.

But dammit I am not gay!

I am so embarrassed, humiliated and perculated.

This BITCH felt me up last night…

~crying~

I feel violated.

For real ya’ll. I know I talk a lot of mess. I know I act like I’m all superfreaky but with women, it’s look but don’t touch. I am disgusted. Utterly. I honestly didn’t know I’d react like this but man, I feel like crap.

~shakes head~

And to those I drunk-called late last night, I’m sorry. I just had some things I really needed to say. Now I’m wondering, uh, what exactly DID I say?

Damnnnn…I’m such an idiot.

Today SUCKS!

Because I was so tired from last night, although we got in before midnight, I drank a Coca-Cola to kinda wake me up.

Anyone who knows me knows that I do not tolerate caffeine well. I am shaking like I just got arrested! I hate this jittery feeling and it won’t leave. And to think I drank only half the bottle.

I’m in a pissy mood. Ruby called me leaving some weird message on my phone. I’m pissed off because of last night and that HOE! I’m also very high strung today. Like a time bomb. Anything is likely to make me go off. Or cry.

I’m sensitive right now. I’m mad right now. I’m hot right now. I’m sad right now. I’m wearing a cute outfit today though. Damn I need a haircut.

I have so much WORK to do! It NEVER ends! ~gasp~

I wanna scream! I wanna kick someone! I wanna cuddle…

I need this damn caffeine to get out of my system or I’m gonna crash.

Deep Cuts

I cut my right thumb on Sunday afternoon. A deep cut that still bleeds now and then and still hurts like hell. I was just trying to cook a dinner for my sons and now I feel like I’m crippled.

Have you ever tried to start the ignition of your car without using your thumb?

Have you ever tried to spank your child without using your thumb?

Try tieing a shoelace.

Try using a lighter.

Try locking your front door with a key.

Try dialing your cell phone.

Yeah. You don’t think about it much but your thumb is so vital to everyday life. Often taken for granted until it’s gone. Like a lot of things in life.

Your car keeps acting up and costing you so much money in repairs. But what would you do without it?

Your family frustrates you like no one else can. But what would you do if they were all gone?

You never call your friend. “She’s doing okay.” you tell yourself. But what if the next time you call her you find out that she’s gone forever?

I’m trying to be more appreciative of the positive people I have in my life. And those people crazy enough to call themselves my friends. I don’t want to take anyone for granted, because now I know how important everyone is to the whole puzzle that is my life.

I’ve also been doing some deep thinking. As usual.

I’m trying to figure out just what I like, who I am and how to accept those things.

I’m working through my Quarter Life Crisis and sometimes I just don’t know.

But I’m going to attempt to figure it all out.

And even if I never do, I’ll be okay knowing that I tried with all my heart. I loved with everything in me and I dared to dream beyond my own limitations.

Opportunities

I’m at my office this morning when my phone rings. I’m in a chipper mood despite recent happenings in my life.

“This is Ms. Tee!” I chirp.

“This is Polly!” the voice announces.

“Ahhhhhh! POLLY!” I scream and then realize that I’m at work.

“Oh my gosh,” I squeal into the phone. “Let me calm down. This is such a great surprise! Such a weird feeling. My past meeting my present! Wow!”

Polly laughs and tells me to calm down.

I smile uncontrollably and laugh again.

Polly is my former Director. I was her assistant when she was the Director of Corporate Support for the PBS affiliate in Gainesville. I had a great time while working there, she taught me a lot and even though she has now become a big shot as the VP of Development for 9 PBS affiliates in Alabama I think of her as my friend and we still keep in touch. She has become a mentor to me.

“So, I got this email from ya, and I decided to go ahead and give you a call. You had me a little worried asking for prayer,” she says.

“I’m sorry about that. I’m just a little nervous. Like I said in my e-mail, next month this woman and her husband are hosting a party that my job is having and I want to make a good impression. I get nervous around people who are where I want to be and I sometimes clam up because I don’t want it to look like I’m desperately looking for another job.”

She giggles. “You’re always looking for another job!”

“You know it.” I say seriously. “I’m going places! But seriously Polly you can not imagine the type of people I meet in this position. Just the other day the VP of Ocean Drive magazine comes in for a meeting with my Director. And a former mayor of Miami came in the same day. We had a producer from Channel 7 here in my office and one of our Trustees is a VP over at PBS down here. I talk with her all the time.”

“Wow,” Polly says. “It seems like you are in a great environment to meet the people who may be able to help you pursue a career in the media. But relax, it’s not that difficult. When you meet someone, just be yourself and give them a compliment. When you met the woman from Ocean Drive, all you had to say was, ‘I really like what you and your team are doing over there. I love your magazine.’ Just be brief and be sincere. Everyone loves compliments and you love asking questions and EVERYONE loves to talk about themselves. Just start with a compliment and a question.”

“Whoa, You’re right Polly. I just get so nervous. I need to compliment more. I need to speak up and let them know that I am interested in what they are doing.”

She goes on to update me on what’s happening in her world. She’s looking forward to her first trip to Vegas for a convention and her family is doing great.

When we hang up I smile to myself. I am so excited about what I do in Development and it’s a field that Polly has done extremely well in. But now I need a new mentor. Someone in Miami with a lot of knowledge and a few connections and I was hoping to meet someone soon.

Having a mentor is extremely important and building friendships with them is a sure fire way to help you get where you want to go. I’ve been hoping to meet someone in Miami but I haven’t yet but maybe it just wasn’t my time.

Where do you wanna go Ms. Tee?

I don’t exactly know. I just know that I have a vibrant personality and I like to smile, talk, be in front of crowds and help people. I am a good writer and I love to talk about personal issues and offer words of comfort. I also like to teach and uplift.

My girl Donni over at Words In The Rough, suggested I become a personal success coach which was an EXCELLENT idea. But then I think that I have to be a little more successful and stable than I am right now so that I can truly be an EXAMPLE of someone who made it.

So as I continue to meet so many successful people through my place of employment I ask God to guide me into the next phase of my life and allow those He wants to help me to take an interest in me.

I’m genuine and I’m sincere and I’m honestly willing to work hard.

All I need is a helping hand and an opportunity.

Wish me luck!

Hot and Cold with The Attorney

So things have been hot and cold between me and The Attorney.

I enjoy him because we share the same dreams of upper class living and success. I also learn about 3 new words everytime we have a conversation. LOL! He’s fun, he’s funny and most of all he accepts me as I am. And that is beautiful.

I think I prayed a prayer when I was kinda in a hopeless mood. I said, “God, I don’t want a boyfriend. I don’t even need a husband. All I would like to experience is having a guy who accepts me as I am and thinks I am great just like You made me. I want to see if a guy would like me.”

Seems simple enough. But it was what I wanted. I got those things from The Attorney and I loved it.

Last Friday he called me after work as I picked up some pizza for my boys.

“Hey. You rollin with the homies?” he laughs.
“Yeah, we’re getting pizza.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he asks, referring to an e-mail we had exchanged earlier.
“You know I would,” I respond seriously.
“Well I’m on my to Ft. Lauderdale for Happy Hour, but why don’t you give me a call and we’ll see what’s happening later.”
“Sure.”

I plan to go to dinner with Melissa and Von. We all meet up at Red Lobster (again) and pig out. Afterwards I’m in my car following Melissa to Von’s house to park my car so I can ride with them, when I call him.

“Hey, we’re going back down to the usual South Beach to go to this club. Why don’t you meet us there?”
“Ok, I’ll do that.”

We roll on down to SoBe and it’s early enough so we find a parking spot. I’m digging in my wallet and I cringe. Oh shoot!

I forgot my ID.

Damnnn!

I whisper to them as they touch up their lipstick. “I forgot my ID.”

WHAT!!!

“I’m so sorry ya’ll. I’m so sorry.”

The car gets quiet.

I live a LONG way from South Beach.

I can feel the tension in the stiff air and I pick up my cell phone and dial The Attorney’s number.

He answers. “Heyy… I just pulled into the parking garage on 6th.”

“I forgot my ID.” I answer quietly.

“Ahh, man. Hold up.” he says. “Ok, they’re letting me leave without paying. Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you and take you back to pick up your ID.”

“I’m on 12th, across from the Sub shop.”

“Ok, I’ll be there.”

“Guys, The Attorney is coming to get me to take me to get my ID.”

“Yeah right.” Melissa answers and rolls her eyes. “We’re going home.”

When he finally finds us, I hop out of Melissa’s car and walk toward him with a smile. He steps out of his titanium Inifiniti and walks around to open my door. He gives me a hug and I sit down.

“What do you want to do?” he asks after returning to the drivers seat.

“Well, I don’t have ID so we can’t stay down here.”

“Yes we can.”

I look at him and raise my eyebrow.

“You’re with me.” he says and puffs his black and mild.

I smile. He’s so cocky. I love it!

So we find a parking garage and we park and I am so amazed because this is my first time doing the South Beach date thing. I mean, we’re holding hands and laughing as he guides me toward The Delano, a hotel I had heard about before but never experienced.

We walk up to the hotel and I’m eyeing all the of the nice rides as we wlak toward the entrance. I can see that there are people at the door and they’re checking ID. I freeze.

The Attorney nudges me, propelling me forward. As we step up to the gentlemen, they take a step back and allow us in with no problem.

I smile up at The Attorney. He smiles back and places his hand around my waist.

My eyes get wide as I’m floating through the crowd. Most of these people are white . The men are wearing blazers or button downs and the women all clutch designer purses as they sip their exotic drinks and mingle. No one is dancing but there is music.

He’s guiding me, ever so gently, with just a bit of pressure on my waist and he’s whispering in my ear.

“Do you see all of this. This shouldn’t be a surprise to you. This shouldn’t be a shock. This is the Miami that I experience and now it’s your turn.”

We continue to walk through the hotel until we reach the back entrance where more people are mingling and enjoying the beautiful, cloudless night.

We walk down the stairs, he holds my hand to make sure I am balanced and I notice a huge pool illuminated by green lights. There aren’t any pool chairs, there are white beds lined up all around it with a pillow on each one.

The Attorney guides me over to the pool’s edge. “See, it’s never ending.” he says and laughs.

Somehow, the pool looks as though it’s overflowing, but it isn’t.

I take a step back. “I can’t swim,” I say. He laughs and pulls me away.

We are both dresed just right for this upper class crowd. He had chosen a crisp white shirt that was casual but chic and a pair black jeans. I had chosen a true black V-neck quarter sleeved sweater, grey pinstriped shorts that came to just below my knees and a pair of comfortable open toed heels. It looks like we coordinated it. I’m feeling so happy.

We walk over to the bar and I let him do his thing. He returns with my drink and we sit down on a bed and get cozy. I laugh as he tells me about his adventures in Philadelphia. He’s a great story teller. We talk about my job and how I can move forward. He pulls me closer and asks me to look around.

“This should be the norm for you, Ms. Tee. This is how you’re going to love for the rest of your life. You are going to experience a lifestyle that is way more than you’ve ever known. You talk about meeting young professionals. Well, here they are. I know most of them aren’t black, but we can’t do anything about that. These are the people that can help with your career. These are the people you should associate with.”

I’m smiling at him and giggling because I’m on my second drink. He’s telling me this story when I have a flashback- Chris Rock is in a movie saying- the first kiss always happens when you are in the middle of a sentence. As he says the word, ‘book’ I feel his aura draw me in.

Yes! We’re making out in the middle of the party. And it’s beautiful and it feels great and he’s very very good. I’m shocked. Because I usually don’t like to kiss. But The Attorney is very sensual and I feel like we’re in a movie.

We pull away and I stand and pull him up. “Let’s get outa here.”

We leave the hotel and head back to his car.

As we’re driving through South Beach he tells me he wants to show m something.

I sit and listen to his old music, you know he’s 31, as we zip down South on the expressway.

We pull onto Brickell Key, which is a tiny island on the water. “This is my office building,” he says and I look up and smile. It’s huge.

We pull into the garage and drive up and up and up.

I’m still tipsy so I get out of the car and stumble a bit and laugh. He takes my hand, “I want to show you something.”

We walk up a flight and a half of stairs and I’m watching my feet so I won’t fall. When we reach the end of the staircase, I notice that the ground feels funny. “Hey, this is grass.” I say and then look up. All I see are stars. Millions of them.

We’re on the very top of the building.

Wow. I’m speechless as I take in the sight of the Miami skyline, the glorious water and the expensive high rises that surround the building. I feel like I’m on top of the world.

He takes my hand and leads me to to the white fence that shield any onlookers from falling off the top. I hold him close as he whispers, “Most people in Miami don’t get to experience Miami like this. This is Miami in all it’s glory. It’s yours for the taking.”

He kisses my neck and holds me, trying to shield me from the wind. We make out a little under the stars and I pull him so that we can get out of the wind.

We head back to his car and I ask him to take me back to North Miami where my car is parked.

We laugh and smoke a black and mild together as we make the trip.

But when we get back to North Miami I realize that I don’t really know where my friend’s house is. So, we’re looking and looking street by street and we see lights flashing behind us.

It’s the police.

We pull over and I’m for real, two minutes later they’re gone, telling us to be careful. “Now if you had been with any other man tonight, things would have gone a lot differently.” he tells me while he puts his information back into his glove box.

I’m so turned on by the way he handled the situation and I kiss him.

“Hold up.” he says. “We’re on a main street. Let me pull off to the side before they come back.”

We turn a corner and drive down and I scream, “THERE’S MY CAR!” I spot my car and he laughs.

We make out a little bit more like two horny teenagers. “You are amazing,” he tells me and touches my face. “You are amazing. But I bet you already knew that didn’t you? You knew that coming into this, huh?”

I jsut stare back at him because I’m feeling the same way about him. I get out, smile at him and get into my car.

I don’t hear from him until Tuesday morning when he calls me asking about the message I left on his voice mail when I was drunk calling people on Monday night.

I cringe and tell him that I don’t remember what I said. He says not to worry and he’ll call me later. He doesn’t. But I understand. This is a big week for him.

He’s finally finishing up his pledge process. He’s about to become a member of Kappa Alpha Psi through a graduate chapter.

So I decide to surprise him and I order an afghan with his fraternity’s letters and I have it delivered to his office. I think he’ll like it. He calls me and tells me that he is with his line brothers and would be very busy, but he’d call me soon.

I send him an e-mail telling him that I know he’s having fun and I hope he has a great time with his new friends.

My phone rang at 7 am Thursday morning. I didn’t answer because I was fixing the boys breakfast.

I didn’t think about my missed call again until I got to work. On my way into the office I checked my caller ID. It was The Attorney.

I smiled. He’s thinking about me early in the morning, huh? Yeah, I got it like that.

I called my voice mail to check his message and am startled when a woman’s voice begins to speak.

“Hi Ms. Tee, this is Christy, The Attorney’s girlfriend. I don’t really know what’s going on with you and him, but I do know what’s going on with us. He’s still proposing to me and telling me he wants to marry me and by the way we’re still living together. Please call me at my office. I need to talk to you.”

I sigh. Damn. Too good to be true.

I call her.

She’s not there. I leave a message.

She calls me back.

We proceed to have a civil conversation. I don’t want to cause him any more drama so I tell her that we are just cool and she wants to know if we had sex. I tell her no. She wants all kinds of details about our relationship but I don’t give them up. What for? It’ll only make her feel worse and cause her to compare herself to me, and I tell her that.

“You just handle you,” I tell her. “And know that I won’t be a factor anymore. I’m not interested in drama.”

I hang up.

Honestly, I’m not too sad. I figure that at least for a moment, someone liked me. Someone thought I was special. A man though I was great. Too bad he lied to me.

Chalk it up to the game.

What to do?

I just don’t know what to say about the Terri Schiavo situation.

I mean. I don’t know what I’d do if this was my Mama. In a vegetative state with severe brain damage, yet she can blink and move her eyes and make some noises.

Could I pull the plug, knowing that she would spend two weeks starving to death?

My heart is aching for her and her family.

Let Me Stand UP
cuz I’m tired of getting beat down

I’m the kinda chick that will let anyone know where I stand on any issue. I’m stubborn, outspoken and adamant about my space and MY TIME!

My friends have all had to get used to my crazy, sometimes selfish ways and thank God for that cuz I can be a bit(ch) much.

But the ONE person I have never stood my ground with, is my baby daddy. When it comes to him I am mush. I am a baby. I am super sweet. I bow down to him on everything and he treats me even worse because of it.

When I call him, he answers, “What do you WANT?” all gruff like I’m some stalker.
He’s written me e-mails telling me, “Your womb should have been barren from the day you were born.” and “I don’t have time for gold-diggers like you. My sons and I don’t need you. You were only good as a carrier.” He even went so far as to tell our sons, in front of me, “Boys, please don’t bring a woman like that home.”

I usually don’t really care what people think or say about me, but for some reason ~sigh~ when it comes to HIM, that shit really gets to me.

It’s not like I’m still in love with him. I don’t know what it is.

I try my best to make sure he’s included in my sons lives. Well, I used to do it more than I do now. I’d send him little packages with pictures the boys drew. I’d call him to update on playground fights, cuts and the new things they’d learn. Dude, as mean as I can get, I’m rarely rude to him. And I’m starting to think that’s the problem.

I ALWAYS let him see his kids. Whenever he wants. WHENEVER. But when he takes them he’s so quick to bring them back early. So quick to call me a bad Mom becuase I left my job in Gainesville and had a hard time finding stability here. “You’re a HORRIBLE mother,” he hisses into my ear when I tell him I don’t agree with a decision he has made.

I hate to fight with him. Damn, I could see if I was some crazy stalker chick who begged him for money and cussed his ass out all the time. I’m not. Anyone who really knows me, knows I’m not.

I’m not after his money. Though child support could get better than the freakin $180 a MONTH he pays now. I don’t interrupt his bachelor life. I never ask him to keep the boys. He sees them when he WANTS to. But even though he lives four hours away, he tries to control my life- and bashes me for the decisions I’ve made.

When we first moved here, he wanted them in private school, so I found one but noticed that it had wayyy too many days off. Even a FULL WEEK off for Thanksgiving. I was like, Whoa, what am I going to do when I have to work and they have all this time off from school? He told me not to worry, he’d take care of it. He’d make sure they had a place to go or if not, he’d take them with him so I could work. Cool?

Not.

Two weeks ago I reminded him that Spring Break was coming. He said he’d look into taking them up there with him. I reminded him of his promise. He said, he’d see. I reminded him that I just started this job and can’t request a full week off when we’re at deadline like this.

He called me back telling me, “Let’s make a deal. If you x-y-z then I’ll take the boys for the week.” NO! No deal! You take them anyway. Don’t try to punish me because I don’t agree with you!

He hangs up on me.

I don’t hear from him again. And no, he didn’t come pick up the boys although he knows I can’t miss work for the whole week to stay home with them.

I buck up, find a daycare and pay them $180 to keep them for the week. Yep, exactly the amount I get in child support. His entire monthly contribution, gone- in one week.

But he’s a LAWYER! you say… And? Shouldn’t he contribute more? Yes, I agree. He doesn’t agree though. So he refuses to go get them child support papers signed and according to the Sheriff’s office, he has been avoiding service.

To all of the men out there who say that he shouldn’t pay child support to help support our household- well… don’t make me curse. I don’t want his contribution to be profiling lovely in a brand new Lexus. I want his help so that we don’t have to live in the ghetto. Real estate on Miami is CRAZY! I’m looking now and I’m gonna be paying a GRAND easily to get an apt comparable to the one I had before I moved down here. Surely if he can buy a house then he can spare maybe $300 a month to help us with our bills.

But what can I do? I’m just hoping for the heavenly hook-up.

Tonight I was through with him. Tired of his inconsistencies. Tired of him threatening to take my sons from me because I can’t provide the lifestyle that he can provide. Tired of him saying he’ll get them and then not doing it- or doing it half-way.

He called…I shuddered. Afraid of what I had to say.

“Hey,” he said nonchalantly. Like F- the fact that you maybe had to struggle to find a babysitter or are missing out on your job to stay home with the boys this week. “I want to see them this weekend, where are you keeping them so I can pick them up.”

“Don’t worry about picking them up.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I’m tired of you not living up to your word. I’m tired of you dodging and I’m tired of your broken promises. Until we go to court and can establish some guidelines for visitation and take care of this child support deal, don’t worry about picking them up anymore!”
“So you’re saying I can’t see my sons unless we go to court?”
“Exactly.”
“Let me speak to my sons.”
He does. And our little one hangs up after saying, “Bye Daddy.”

I lean back in my chair and release a breath. My eyes water. I don’t want to fight with him. I really don’t. I don’t want to be labeled that crazy baby mama. But he’ll probably always call me that anyway. I don’t want to keep him away from his sons. They need a man in their life. I recognize that.

But damn, I’m NOT a doormat. I take good care of our children. I may not make the money he makes and no I don’t have a house, but damn, I sacrifice. My career, my life. My body. All for them. And all he gives me is bullshit and criticism in return.

So until we are both face to face with a judge, I won’t see him again.

I feel relived because finally we’re going to get some stability in our lives since I know that everything and EVERYDAY falls on me.

No more hoping only to be let down.

Puff, Puff, Breathe

There’s a tightness in my chest.

It’s familiar. Very familiar. Reminds me of youth, of pain and leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. Wait… I know that taste. It’s prednisone. Yep, those tiny white pills that taste like poison but are actually steroids to help strengthen my lungs.

I had another asthma attack today.

It started while I was in the second leg of our all day Capital Campaign Conference at work. I feel my chest squeeze. I bite my lip. I close my eyes and concentrate, hoping to get control of my breath. I’m breathing shallow breaths now. I excuse myself and run to my office, fumble in my desk drawer and- EUREKA! there it is- my inhaler.

Two quick puffs and I relax, waiting for it to kick in. I walk back to the meeting and rejoin my colleagues as they discuss strategies on making our kick-off night even more spectacular. I’m excited about being a part. Excited to hear all of the plans and events that I will get to be a part of, but right now I’m having a difficult time focusing on their words because I’m counting my breaths.

“Ok, Calm down.” I tell myself. “You won’t lose your job. You won’t miss too much. Just excuse yourself and go to the hospital. But be calm about it.”

I write a note to my Director: Hey Sheryl, I’m having some problems with my asthma right now. I need to leave. I’ll call you later.

She follows me outside after reading the note. “Please let me know what’s going on with you.”

I smile weakly and try to remain calm, but my breathing isn’t steady yet.

I go back to my office, turn off my computer and pack up my things. I call my Mama on the way to my car and let her know that I’m having an attack, but it’s not that bad. “Are you going to the ER?” she asks. “No, I’m going to pick up the boys, go home and lie down until you get off of work.” “No, just come pick me up now and if you have to go to the ER then I will already be there.”

I pick her up and I’m feeling better already. I lie down in the den while my sons play in the living room. She makes them dinner and they eat. I catch my breath- finally.

When I wake up, my sons are climbing all over me. I get up and give them baths. I play with them a little. After a while I put them to bed and sit down to play with the ring tones on my phone.

I feel it again. It’s tight. It’s squeezing me. It hurts more now than it did before. Damn I’m never smoking another black and mild again. I cough. My head hurts.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and go in,” I tell my Mama. “I don’t feel well.”

I get dressed in the most comfortable clothes I can find: a Gator t-shirt and some blue jeans and some sneakers that are cute but a little too big for me. I grab my cell phone and prepare myself for the drive.

It’s quite a feat, driving yourself to the emergency room when you can hardly breathe, but I’ve done it before and I’m used to it. I just turn down the music so I can concentrate and count my breaths. I make sure to pay close attention to the traffic and I drive even more slowly than I usually do.

I make it to the ER in 10 minutes and walk up like I’m visiting someone else. I’m concentrating so hard on not letting my weakness show.

I walk up to the Triage nurse. “What’s going on with you tonight honey?” she asks.

The tears begin to flow. For the first time I feel like I don’t have to front. Like I can admit that I am not well and I can just relax and be taken care of.

“I can’t breathe. It’s my asthma.”

She slides a stack of forms on a clipboard through the window. I crouch down to fill them out, wiping the dotted tears that fall on the forms.

When I’m done I slide the clipboard back to her and stand up. I lean against the wall, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the people in the ER waiting room. I really don’t like to see sick people. I feel so bad for them.

My name is called not even a minute later. Asthma patients never have to wait in the emergency room. We used to though. I remember the rule changed when I was younger after a man died from asthma while waiting his turn. Now we skip everyone else. So I walk in like a VIP.

I sit down and they take my blood pressure. Just right. They take my temperature. Just right. They listen to my lungs. Hmm. A little tight in the right blah blah blah. I’m thinking, “Who gives a damn, gimme my OXYGEN!”

They lead me into a small white room and ask me to undress and put on the hospital gown and lie down. I’m thinking, “GIMME MY OXYGEN!” but I’m calmly obeying their instructions.

A gentleman stops by and my eyes get wide. I can see it! He has my mask right there! He hooks it up t othe oxygen tank and I can hear the whir of the oxygen flowing through the mask. He adds two vials of medicine to the mask and I can see the smoke billowing out from it. He places the band that holds the mask in place around my head and I sigh with relief, here it is, my first inhale.

Ahhhhhh…

I inhale again. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Slow. Deep. Thorough.

I lean back.

I relax.

I inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The smoke from the medicine mixed with the oxygen is clouding my vision so I close my eyes. I imagine Mr. Rico Suave walking in.

Mmmm, mmm. He sees me there, all vulnerable and delicious looking. He’s wearing a lab coat, but he doesn’t look like a doctor to me.

“Time for your breast exam.” he announces.

“HEYY! I’m in here for an asthma attack!”

“Oye Mami! Chill out. It’s routine. Routine. Massage for the lungs, ok?”

“Well, if you say so.” I mumble through my mask and relax. I giggle. He looks just like The Rock. They could be cousins.

Wow. I’m seeing stars now.

I hear a clink and look down to see the stirrups being raised.

My feet are being placed in them.

“You’ll feel just a bit of pressure,” he says calmly as he steps closer to the bed.

I close my eyes tightly.

“Ma’am. Your treatment is over. You can get dressed now.”

The voice, it’s the lady’s voice. The same lady who brought me in here.

“The doctor will be right back in to listen to you.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Shoot. Can’t even get none in my fantasies.

I get dressed and wait patiently for the doc, who pronounces me all better. I take a couple of DEEP breaths. I feel all tingly. Like I just drank some caffeine.

I’m jittery from the medication.

I get my prescriptions and leave.

And I ride, with my windows all the way down, deeply breathing in the night air.

Thankful that I made it out okay once again.

Hoping that I don’t have to see this place again anytime soon.

Workin Chick

How blessed I am.

I love going to work. I love what I do.

There is not a day that I wake up and think, “Aww man, I gotta go back in there again!”

Everyday I wake up and I’m excited to see how busy I’m gonna be.

I work in Development which is another name for fundraising. And no, it isn’t your typical telephone outbound calling center. Well, we do have a couple of phone-a-thons during the year but the majority of our solicitations are done through elaborate parties and recruiting other donors to solicit for us.

Yes, there’s a lot of ass kissing and grand guestures and we really go the extra mile for our donors. If we think they have the potential to be 6 figure contributors we roll out the red carpet- special parking places, wine and cheese gifts and we’ll do anything to let them know that we will make good use of their money on improvements for our school.

This year is our very first capital campaign. Which means we are set to raise over 10 million dollars in one year. So far, we’re half way there and by the time we publicly announce the campaign in November we hope to be at 70% of our goal. We have a great Development Consultant that we fly in once a month to advise us and help groom us and we have a great team who are very professional and want to see our team meet its goal.

We are challenged a lot. For example, last year someone anonymously donated a million dollars with the stipulation that in order to receive the money, we have to raise ANOTHER million dollars to match it, by this summer. So in addition to our capital campaign and other endowments, we STILL have to raise a million in order to get that million from the donor.

Now when I tell you we’re busy, do you believe me?

From parties to recruiting and romancing Miami’s elite. To giving tours of our school, to well placed Marketing and Publicity we are all on top of things in order to improve our school.

I can’t explain how exciting this is and how much I enjoy being a part of a team and having the major responsibility of coordinating it all. I bring all of the departments together.

My job is to make sure that we are all communicating and my work flows through each department so that I am learning everyone’s job. I assist the Director of Development by doing whatever she wants me to do from scheduling meetings to setting up meeting rooms to assisting in tours, I also assist the Director of Marketing and Publications by proofing and writing things for her publications. I assist the Special Events Director by doing research and corresponding with outside vendors about our events. I also work with the Database Manager (Blackbaud ya’ll) as she inputs the donations into our database, I generate all of the Thank You letters that we send out to them and make sure they are written properly and mailed out timely.

I’m not done. I also assist the Annual Fund Director. Usually with her, I just help write letters and design invitation to the events. And I am the temporary alumni affairs contact person so I handle any questions or updates from alumni and I try to keep on top of who is doing what so that I can pass the info along to Publications so that she can include it in her brochures.

I’m not even mentioning all of my own responsibilities. I’m basically the office manager. Making sure that everyone has everything they need to do their jobs and anyone who wants something from our department has to go through me.

I love responsibility. I love the pressure. I love the knowledge. I love being around so many people who are way smarter than I am. I love soaking in all the knowledge I can and I don’t care if anyone knows that I am so hungry for information and I have a goal and I have a vision and I want to learn as much as I can.

I am so teachable.

I am so blessed to be where I am right now.

It took a minute to get here, but it came. I’m glad I hung in there.