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Archive for the tag “lying”

RIP, Boo Thang. Good Riddance, Lying-Ass

Well folks, you’ve been reading.

You all saw this coming.

People move in and out of our lives all of the time.

Seriously, think about it.

New jobs, new cities, graduating from school, going back to school, your church, death, people rotate in and out.

That is the nature of this thing called life. We are in constant motion, traveling through it.

As I told you all in my last post, I was growing weary. Time was running out for Boo Thang.

And time ran all the way out Thursday night.

When he asked to stop by, I assumed he was feeling the vibe that things weren’t going well, especially since I sent him that text about confidence.


He was happy as a clam and even brought wine. I introduced him to Moscato D’Asti and now it’s like the best thing in the world.

So being oblivious, he want to hug me and kiss me and I kept squirming like Pepe Le Pew’s unfortunate feline girlfriend who keeps falling in the wrong can of paint to make her look like a skunk.

I was blocking shots like Mutumbo.

So after a great discussion about the state of the black community, politics, the sequestration and watching Awkward Black Girl, the finale (it’s awesome), he was getting ready to leave.

I told him I wanted to talk to him about something. I couldn’t let him leave. I couldn’t take another day of being phony or knowing that I wasn’t that into him.

So he sat down in the chair and he braced himself. He braced himself.

I started out with asking him what he wanted from this relationship and where he saw things going.

Brace yourselves for his answer.

“I don’t know, I want us to keep hanging out and getting to know each other and then it can go somewhere.”

My response:

“It’s been five months. We haven’t seen each other for two weeks and we haven’t really been talking a whole lot. Things seem to be going ok to you?”

“Well things haven’t been great, but I just thought we were both busy.”

Yeah, ok, pimp.

So I go on about me wanting a serious relationship and how I’m at the point where the direction I’m trying to head now is marriage. I spoke about how at 28, just getting out of grad school, he has just started his professional life, he has just started his grown up life.

I even realized that even though there was a few years between us, in life experience, I had a decade on him.

He’s never lived outside of Maryland.

I’ve lived and worked in a bunch of different places, I’ve had ups and downs in my relationships. I’ve had to speak up sometimes and fight for things, I’ve been through a lot. I’ve learned to love myself, I’ve learned to appreciate who I am.

I told him that I have high expectations of the man who is going to be my man. I told him I mentioned the confidence thing because I can’t be confident for him I want the man in my life to really know himself and be able to make decisions and I will stand by him and be his biggest supporter. I told him he’s not there yet.

I said there was nothing wrong with that, it’s just timing.

So with big puppy eyes, he asks, “Well is it where I’m at professionally?”

Wrong again, lad.

I told him not at all. He’s where he’s supposed to be.

“Does this mean you don’t want to talk anymore?”

I said, “I would actually love to still talk to you and hang out, but we got to stop the romantic stuff.”

At this point, he already had his baseball cap on low across his eyes. Before then, his brows stayed in a permanent knot on his forehead as he listened.

I told him, if I’m off base, to correct me, but I’m pretty sure I’m right. I told him he is in transition and that is ok, but the fact I have to explain why I want to be picked up and dated and wanting some consistency, it’s a problem. No one who is five months into something does not really see or make time for each other for two weeks and they live in the same area.

So he said he’d talk to me later, we hugged and he left.

He sent me a text later, saying that he was glad to see me and appreciated our talk.

I told him I agree.

But that’s not how this story ends folks, oh it gets better. I mean, it wouldn’t be a 29tolifeblog story if there wasn’t a ridiculous twist.

A homegirl of mine said she thought she saw old boy on a dating site.

Not the one where we met and where I thought we both closed our profiles…

This fool must believe in loopholes.

So this morning she’s like, I have a screen capture of the profile. I said, well what’s the name and what’s the city?

City, check.

Profile name.. was the name of homeboy’s favorite rapper and some number and I already know not many people would pick that name.

My friend sent the pic. And boom there his ass was.

Here I was, feeling sorry for him. Thinking I had broken his simple, little heart and this mo fo has been out there, probably still talking to other women.

So, that’s all folks.

Here we go again.

I’m open to suggestions. If you folks have great friends, cousins, uncles, third tier friends, send em my way.

Back to the drawing board. Again.

Tip the bartenders, God Bless and good night folks.

Here I am, in a tee-shirt, wrapped in a blanket chronicling my pitiful life for you all and having a Sex and the City marathon, because Carrie Bradshaw knows me like no one else.

I’ma keep hope alive.

Shit is real.

Battle of the Exes in Three Acts

Boy meets girl, shit doesn’t work out.

Boy and girl part ways and live happy, meaningful lives.– Me 3/5/12

We gonna call this dude Mr. Kidney, in reference to yesterday’s post.

There was a reason why I ignored this dude for years after we broke up. There’s a reason I let his messages go to voice mail. There’s a reason his emails blocked.

Mr. Kidney has to win. He doesn’t listen, and when he does, it’s only to have just enough material to help him build his rebuttal. He’s making great use of his law school education.

Mr. Kidney, Esquire (ahem) tries to act as if he’s evolved, but doesn’t do fundamental things (listening, being humble and knowing when to shut the hell up) that will aid in the personal growth he swears he’s trying to attain.


I tried to be nice. That’s when he sent me long-winded email number one.

I sent him a lovely email telling him not to dwell on the past and to move forward which is what I have done. I told him one person alone can’t heal a friendship and I am not a willing participant. Don’t feel bad about it. I congratulated him for whatever growth he’s had and I understand we were both young and made a lot of mistakes. Don’t want to be friends, don’t take it personal, I’m not bitter. I appreciate apologies, but it’s really all good.Go on to greatness. God bless.

That’s the gist.


Like a good rat king, he’s not going to die when you set out the first traps.

Fool then sends me long-winded email number two.

He starts talking about “planting seeds of friendship” and looking into my heart and not looking at the man he used to be and how we had this deep, profound relationship that will span the ages and all sorts of flowery, crazy stuff. He said, he’ll try to contact me five years from now and continue to do so and that my rejections are a part of our epic story and blah, blah, blah. Then he said something about pursuing the healing of our friendship into “the winter of our age.”

Thank you Mr. Frost.


At that point, I lost my shit, and decided to do what I said I was not going to do years ago. I went ahead and just called him out on all of his arrogant, pompous, self-inflated bullshit, take a quick trip back down memory lane, to the lying and cheating and disrespect to paint a clearer picture. So I went there. I actually felt great after doing so.

Enjoy parts of my rant:

You haven’t lost your flair for the dramatic. You still love the sound of your own voice, the flow of your own beautiful words. And boy are they beautiful. But what the hell are you really saying behind your grand, well-penned phrases? We can’t be friends because you will forever be arrogant. You will continue to posture and debate until you win. You make assumptions, you have to flaunt your grand deep insight. You will always be older than me, but my brotha, I’ve lived enough now to not be impressed or intimidated by a flurry of words you string together and deliver passionately. But do you honestly stand still? Do you really listen seriously? I was enraptured in your grand way with words. It was so grand and intoxicating then. It is so extra now. When it got down to the thick of it all, you were a manipulator. King of the mind fuck, king of turning shit around to win.  You are doing it now. I hurt you. You wanted to marry me, but you always accused me of cheating, going through my shit, moving chicks in your house, cheating on me, playing mind games, getting me all twisted up and confused. You weren’t ready to marry me as much as i wasn’t ready to marry you. You liked what I represented.  I’m done with this. Like only you can, you’ve roped me into your shit. I was trying to be classy. I was trying to call it a damn day. If you are so intent on this, I guess we have a date five years from now, where I’ll still tell you to go sit your dramatic ass down someplace. There is no story, there is no epic tale of you and me that spans the ages. Boy meets girl, shit doesn’t work out. Boy and girl part ways and live happy, meaningful lives. We are not these larger than life characters you’ve made us to be.

Then came long-winded email number three where after a long rant on forgiveness and coming clean about all of the dirt he did, and why he had to lie to me all of the time and how he has to long live with the ramifications of violating me and our relationship he says even if I respond to this email, he’s not going to respond back.

He’s a bitch. I knew after I went off on him, he wasn’t going to leave the scene of the crime, tail between his legs. He had to have the last word. This didn’t surprise me.

What kills me in all of this is, he’s seeking forgiveness which I gave to him years ago, and made reference to in my first really nice email where I applauded him for the courage and humility it took to reach out and apologize.

Once again, he didn’t listen. He just wanted to find holes in my points, so he could make grander points. He extended friendship and I politely declined and suggested we move on. And as I rejected his fool-hearted control tactic of a marriage proposal nearly a decade ago, he felt rejected again and lashed out.

What a surprise.

As I told another friend, “you can forgive someone, but sometimes you just can’t sit down, drink some International Foods Coffees and have a good, civilized chat with them.”

I don’t want to put myself at discomfort just so he can prove to me he’s a different man now. I’ll take his word for it without having to be his buddy.

What does this fool want me to do? Fry some chicken, take his head to my breasts, hum a negro spiritual and say, “My chile you forgiven?”

As Celie from the Color Purple told Mister. “What you done to me already been done to you.”

He also addressed karma and having to pay for his actions (what didn’t he address?).

He’s divorced now, but he made it very clear he was not trying to rekindle anything romantically, but wanted us to get reacquainted. He also said now that he was divorced, I could “lift” my “moral restriction” that kept me from talking to him because he had a wife.

Really? Really?

I ignored you because you were an asshole. Not because you were married.

I would have preferred that he ask me for a kidney.



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