“Reflections of A Woman’s Indiscretions“
This book is dedicated to my mother Elena, grandmothers Josephine & Evril,
& to all the Ladies in my life –
Strong women I have seen
Prevail no matter the circumstances or challenges.
Over the next few weeks, our arguments and disagreements with each other would only get worse. And it was during this time that I did not care what he would do to me; because I would always find my way back to him. It did not matter if he had a new reason to blame me or fault me for anything; and it did not matter if he used excessive physical force to get his point across (using me as his punching bag whenever he felt like venting his anger)–I still wanted to be his girl! There were times that he would threaten to leave me and I would get down on my knees, crying to him–begging to him– to stay; and he did. And there were times that he would be just plain mean, cold, and distant towards me; but I took it. He was worth any exertion of hurtful emotions I felt; and he was worth any risk of Indiscretions I have made in the past. He was my drug.
I was addicted to him, to us, and he was too. We could have made our lives easier, by leaving each other alone, but we didn’t. Instead, we would go back and forth, arguing and fighting with each other. But as always, in the end, we would eventually talk and make up. It was a cycle; a pattern – a mutual addiction.
This pattern of addiction is the reason why I am sharing these memories with you. These memories are some that are still living vividly in my mind. These are the memories that have deprived me of my self-respect, and have humiliated me the most. November 2004 happened to be one of many Indiscretions of that pattern.
Today is Saturday, the weekend of my beautiful daughter’s (Amy), 5th birthday. The kids were spending the weekend with their dad, Blu, while I was planning to pick them up early Sunday to celebrate her birthday with dinner and a movie. Saturday started out great, and Slimm and I were back together again. Today he surprised me with some money and told me to go out and get my hair and nails done; and I did just that. I first went to the spa for my mani and pedi, then I thought to myself, “since my hair is already bangin’ I’ll keep the rest for myself.” I remembered Blu crossed my mind that day, because this was something he rarely did for me–Blu was never attentive to my basic needs. So when I saw Slimm doing these little things for me, I was very appreciative of his generous gesture.
Once I got done, getting fancy for my man, I went out to see him; everything was perfect! [I can still remember listening to Marvin Gaye’s “Distant Lover,” playing on the radio, as I pulled up to meet him.] When I pulled up on the block, he had a wide grin on his face–he was in good spirits and I was truly elated. Crossing the street with his long strides, he walked towards me, stopped at my driver’s window, bent down, and kissed my lips–and boy did the back of my hair stand up; just one touch as NeYo would say. He was being so sweet today–and he complimented my mani and pedi.
Politely he handed me an additional $200 and said in his deep sultry voice, “Here baby, go get you an outfit.” I didn’t ask any questions. I gladly accepted the money and was happy to go spend it.
[For the record, I am by no means a “Gold Digger!” I love people genuinely for who they are – not for their money or material wealth. The way I see it, a man with money is a plus; not a necessity. My family, originally from Belize, came to the United States in their teens and worked hard to achieve success. That’s what I knew. After my parents separated, my mother was a single mom who worked her ass off to give us what she could–with the exception of child support from my dad. She didn’t take hand-outs, gifts, or the like from men. I also saw my dad work multiple jobs at once to provide a better life for him and his family. I was taught from birth that if you want something in life, make it happen for yourself. I wasn’t going to ride on anyone’s coattails or beg for shit–and I still haven’t. Slimm was by no means a baller, but he did get his hustle on. He always had money in his pockets, and I didn’t ask questions because it was none of my business. He had his money and I had mine, but when I needed extra cash he looked out for me – as he should, because he was my man. But he was also a gentleman. When we went out, he took care of everything–and he was always taking care of me. Whether it was filling up my gas tank; feeding me good food; buying an outfit here or there; or simply giving me extra cash for miscellaneous items, he looked out for me and I appreciated everything he did for me.]
So we kissed goodbye that day and agreed to meet up at the hotel room later that evening.
I went to the mall and set out my quest for some cute boots. Since shopping can easily consume one’s attention, I put my cell phone on vibrate and stuck it in my back pocket. With all the activity that goes on in a mall, I did not want to miss any calls–and I especially did not want to miss Slimm’s calls. I knew for sure that I would feel any vibrations from my phone. So if anyone was trying to reach me, I would feel it.
Time flew by and I was in my zone. After a couple hours of shopping, I realized that my phone hadn’t vibrated at all. So when I stopped and looked at my screen, I noticed that Slimm had chirped me over a dozen times! [FYI: “Chirp” was a Nextel cell phone-a walkie talkie–that was pretty big from 2003-06] I started freaking out–I knew that this could only mean trouble. I was so nervous because I knew that this situation was going to create more havoc in my life. A million thoughts rushed into my mind: “He is gonna think I was cheating with another man, when the truth was I didn’t feel my phone vibrating.” I shouldn’t have to remind him of how “girls shop”–that should be common sense, “Right?” Not to an insecure man I suppose. I could always reason with Slimm because I consider these circumstances: I had an affair with Slimm while I was married. It is fair for him to think that “if I could cheat on my husband, then I could cheat on him too” but Slimm knows that I have plenty of admirers and I can choose any suitor I wanted. Bottom line, I knew Slimm was violent, and I was not going to risk getting caught up with another man–It’s called self-preservation.
I immediately hit him back on the chirp; my heart was racing and my pulse was beating heavily. I waited for him to respond back and when he did I knew that it was on! He was angry and unreceptive,
“Where the fuck you been?!”
I tried to explain myself, but he rebuked me–he wouldn’t even try to listen to anything I was saying. Our conversation then ended, and fifteen minutes later I made it back to the hotel room. As I walked inside, seeing him sitting at the table with a mean muggin’ expression on his face, ALL HELL broke loose. Almost immediately I tried to explain the situation to him, but he ignored me. In an act of superiority, he rose from his chair; walked towards me; and stood over me. Every time I would speak, he made sure to talk over me.
“Baby I…I didn’t feel my phone -” was all I could ever say to him; before he started doubting my words.
“I don’t want to hear your fuckin’ lies. I don’t believe you!” He shouted.
His spit was flying all over my face as he went off on my ass–that’s how close he was to me. Then without warning: BAM! He head-butted me again, but this time in my mouth–busting my lip on impact. Blood began dripping all over the place, but that didn’t stop him from continuing his rage. He threw me around the room; tore the clothes off my body; and choked me out. I fell to the floor and I felt my body go limp; breathing became difficult–he must have noticed because he took a break from his rampage. Assuming that he was trying to regain his energy for round two, which I was not up for, I took the opportunity to sprint to the bathroom and locked myself in.
I found a corner on the bathroom floor near the shower; I brought my knees up to my chest, burying my face; and I cried uncontrollably. My heart was beating rapidly as though it was going to explode inside my chest. Just to think that three hours earlier I was consumed in his happiness, but now at this moment I was frightened for my life. I tried to calm myself, wondering how I was ever going to get out of this room, nonetheless the bathroom, alive.
Stay Tuned Next Week To Read The Next Page Of Her Chilling New Book
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- Saturday Book Read w/ Sharine Jones, Chapter 1: Love Continued (princesdailyjournal.com)
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- Spotlight Feature: Sharine Jones, Rising Author and Advocate Against Domestic Violence (princesdailyjournal.com)