Prayer for Mercy--My Testimony

This is an excerpt from my life. Some of the characters are fictional but based on real life people. The main character is a younger me. Afraid, scared, and in love but conflicted. Comments are expected and welcome.

Prayer for Mercy-My Testimony

Sittin in church squirmin ‘cuz my pastor won’t stop talkin about me. He keeps goin on and on and on. God make him stop! Next subject please…I can’t believe this. I hear various “Amen’s!” and such from those in the pews behind me and in front of me. I just look at the pulpit silently prayin for pastor to move on. “The bible said that, a-ha, seek ye first the kingdom of heaven and all these things—a-ha—will be added unto you. It said ALL things—a-ha—not some things. Can I get a witness? I said can I get a witness?” Brother Wilkins yells out, “Yessir, Hallelujah! Preach Bishop!” I smile. Pastor finally got off my case. Thank God.

I relax a little, just a little. Thinkin about callin my boyfriend when I get outta church. I smile again, thinkin about his grin. I think about the way I feel when he holds me. My first true love, I feel so blessed! He always tells me that he loves lookin in my eyes, he smiles every time I take my glasses off. If I were white I’d be red all the time from blushin.

“Now turn with me to…first Corinthians chapter six—I want to start at, uh, verse nine. Can somebody read for me?” Asks pastor as he adjusts his glasses. “Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God…?” reads Brother Wilkins. I groan inside, Lord why this verse? I can’t never get a break. Ugh…

“…Be not deceived: neither fornicators…” (Ha, that’s not me. I aint sleepin with nobody.) “Nor idolaters” (still not me) “nor adulterers” (I almost laugh, I’m only seventeen Lord knows I aint married) “nor effeminate…” I tense: effeminate. What does that mean? It can’t mean what I think it means, can it? Naw, I aint no sissy. I don’t act like a girl. My boyfriend wouldn’t like me if I acted too girly. Could it mean…gay? (Gasp) Of course not I proclaim, not believing my own self.

“Nor abusers of themselves with mankind,” continues Brother Wilkins. “Paul writes, a-ha, under the inspiration of God that no unrighteousness, a-ha, shall enter the kingdom of God.” Pastor begins walkin across the pulpit. (Oh Lord, he bout to get into it for sho now.) “The bible says neither fornicators, a-ha—you can’t pull down your britches or lift up your skirt, a-ha, without bein married. Don’t you know saints, a-ha, that a man or woman that fornicates, a-ha, does so with God’s temple? You sin against your own body, a-ha, not your sister’s body but your OWN body. Can I get an amen, a-ha? Hal-le-lujah!”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Good he’s gonna talk about fornicating; sex before marriage. I aint doin that, still got my V-card. “You can’t worship idols, a-ha. An idol is anything, a-ha, that you cherish more than God, a-ha. Don’t you know…” (Pastor wipes his face with his towel) “that God is a jealous God?” Maybe I should go to the bathroom or something before he goes any further. I look around…dang, Sister Etheridge is right at the door to the lobby. She won’t let nobody go to the bathroom durin the sermon. Lord have mercy!

“Read on Brother Wilkins.” Pastors says goin back to the podium. “Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God—” pastor cut Brother Wilkins off saying, “God said ALL unrighteousness! Some people try to make—a-ha—one sin greater than another, but God—I said GOD! A-ha!—God covered everything from sex before marriage to homosexuality” (my heart skipped a beat and I feel a little queasy) “to liars and money launderers, a-ha! None of you, a-ha, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And if u not on your way to heaven, a-ha, then you got to be on your way, a-ha, to hell.” Nervously, I look around stealthily. Nobody is lookin at me. I relax a little bit more. Where did he see homosexuality at? I must have missed that one. Wait—would that be ‘effeminate’?

“Read on brother,” says Pastor as I hear many people say ‘amen’ and ‘go head, pastor’. Brothers Wilkins reads on promptly, “And such were some of you—”.
“Aw, wait a minute here. I know the bible didn’t say that.” Pastor stepped back in feigned disbelief. “Yes it did, haha,” exclaims Deacon Watson.

“And such were some of who? Such were some of you,” he says pointing at the crowd. “Did ya’ll catch that? Such, a-ha, WERE some of you. Read on brother.”

“…But ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.”

“It says we are washed, a-ha, sanctified by what?” Pastor asks the crowd they respond ‘The Spirit of our God.’

“And that spirit is, a-ha, the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost cleanses, a-ha, the Holy Ghost justifies. That’s what the Word says, a-ha, and you can’t deny, a-ha, the Word of God. So Sister So-and-So, you don’t have to sin no mo’. When you have been baptized in the name of Jesus, a-ha, and when you receive…a-ha, the precious gift called the Holy Ghost, a-ha, you are justified.” Many shouts rose up. Here I am with the Holy Ghost, how am I justified or sanctified? Does that mean it’s okay to be with my boyfriend?

“Brother So-and-So, you can’t judge Sister So-and-So because the bible says, a-ha, ‘and such were some of you.’ And that goes both ways, a-ha. Don’t look down on your brother, a-ha, because they went through what you were blessed not to go through. Jesus is a deliverer, a-ha, for he delivered me. I was out in the world; drinkin and messin around havin a good ‘ol time in my mess, a-ha. But Jesus, a-ha, I said JESUS, lifted me out of my sin and filled me up with His Spirit, a-ha, after I was baptized in the name of Jesus Christ, a-ha, for the remission of MY sins!”

I was havin a serious inner battle. The Lord couldn’t possibly want me to give up Max, could he? How can it be wrong to be loved by someone that loves you back? I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t want to be gay. I don’t know what to do. I was baptized; I spoke in tongues and received the Holy Ghost. I am saved, aint I?

“If you are in sin, if you are in mess, a-ha, God told me to tell you, a-ha, to fight your flesh. Resist the Devil, and he will flee. Call on the name of Jesus; tell him to ‘rescue me.’ Be not deceived, for God is not mocked, a-ha. God told me to tell you to REPENT of your sins, a-ha, and turn away from it. Turn to Jesus, turn to God, turn to the only one, a-ha, that can keep you. Turn to Jesus, and deny yourself.”

Well, if it was wrong it would have left when I got saved. I can’t give up Max, I just can’t. We love each other, we really do. Surely, God wouldn’t want me to give that up?

“When you walk the Christian walk, a-ha, you have to make tough decisions, a-ha. You have to decide, a-ha, For God I live and for God I’ll die! You have to trust in Him, and believe in His word. There comes a time in our life, a-ha, where we have to give up, a-ha, what we love the most. Be obedient, a-ha, make the sacrifice. For He loved you and me, a-ha, before the world was. He loved me, a-ha, even in my sin. He loved me, a-ha, when I didn’t want to win. Look at me now, a-ha. I am servin the Lord, a-ha. And you can’t stop me. You can’t make me quit. I got Jesus on my side, a-ha, so please don’t touch me. Touch NOT His anointed, says the Lord. My brother, you have to make a choice, a-ha. Do you wanna serve Jesus, a-ha, or do you wanna serve your flesh? It is up to you. But God wants me to let you know, a-ha, that the wages of sin is DEATH, a-ha, but the gift of God, a-ha, is eternal life.”

I have to make a choice. I…meaning ME? How am I supposed to do that? Lord, I don’t know what I should do. Please have mercy on me. Help me Jesus for I do not want to die and be lost.

MyAn's Truth (Episode 5)

I swung with all my might, hoping I would destroy that smile he so cherished. He lucky that—oh. Wait…I jumped way too far ahead didn’t I? Haha. Let me slow down and start somewhere with some foundation.

Zye, as I mentioned many times before, is a very nice catch. So of course, he had been caught by many people before I came along. Compared to his past, my past doesn’t really exist. He’s had relationship after relationship, love after love, but one of those relationships tried its best to jump the broom. Let’s just say the broom had a nasty attitude and both of their asses [the grooms] ended up on the floor instead of the bed of a nice honeymoon suite.

Jackson Morris. That’s his name. The love of Zye’s life. The only background info I had on Jacky was that he was attractive, almost unbearably so. He could sing and he wrote his own songs. He’d laid down a few tracks and he even co-produced some music for some local artists who made it big. He was the dream guy, the guy that had people [men and women alike] fawning all over him constantly but he’d always ignored them until he met Zye on a rainy day in October making his way to a music studio while Zye had just been dumped by this rude bastard who left him on the corner of Main Street. I would beat the shit out of him too if he were still able to function without assistance from a machine. Karma is a tyrannical mother-you-know-what and it don’t play. Hahahaha. Oh, sorry. I did not mean to laugh at another’s misfortune.
Jackson took Zye by force. By the force of his words, his demeanor, his drive, and of course, his weapon of mass destruction—also known as—his voice. Those who had heard him sing compared him to a mix between Brian McKnight, Usher, and Jon B. That’s a killer mix if you ask me. Umm..oh, yeah. Back to the story…

Jackson and Zye had been dating for about seven months when Mr. Morris decided to make Zye his wifey [or hubby]. This nigga proposed to Zyiah Johnson and gave him this beast of an engagement ring. The proposal was worth an Oscar for its larger-than-life romance. Jackson sung to Zye at the wedding of a mutual friend of theirs. The song was supposed to be for the bride and groom only, but the soon-to-be newlyweds had decided to allow Jackson to propose as well as help join them in holy matrimony. Jackson walked down the aisle during his performance and grabbed Zye from his seat and bowed down on one knee while singing “He Proposed to Me” by Kelly Price. Don’t ask me why he was singing that particular song but that’s what he was getting paid for. While he was singing it he pulled out the ring and opened it while the entire church was holding their breath. Zye gave him a tearful yes and they embraced each other. Jackson Morrison and Zyiah Johnson were engaged to be married.

Marriage. A foundation deemed exclusively heterosexual by many supposedly open-minded individuals who sing the “Star Spangled Banner” with a straight face yet, have no problem frowning upon same sex individuals who deign to have the same delight of a wedding and an exchanging of vows amongst their families. Call me rude if you want. Call me blunt or what have you but I think these people are extremely idiotic. Claiming that America, this America, is a Christian nation which holds Christian values. This is not a home of the Christ-like, this is the home of the free, the home of the brave. And excuse me, but I find it brave for a people deemed morally inept and sometimes downright perverse to strive for something so outlandish as marriage in this fair country. [And by fair I mean totally incapable of knowing what fair was even if it bitch-slapped them across the oceans.] Cry religious freedom all you want, scream fairness and equality for all if you so choose, but if you have a lick of sense and eyes to see you will know these lies when you hear them. Two out of fifty of the “united” states of America uphold same-sex marriage as a legal institution. That’s pretty damned ludicrous if you ask me, and even if you don’t my opinion still stands.

Zye and this Jackson guy took on this task head on and made plans to head to either Massachusetts or California to make their love official and holy in the eyes of a God whom I don’t believe is as concerned with penis and vagina wars as religious fanatics would like us to believe. Weddings are already expensive but adding travel expenses to that makes their cost outright preposterous. But of course, Jackson had the funds to take care of the financial feat. Jackson could even afford to pay for those who weren’t financially endowed to fly to California for the wedding. Note: I really don’t like this guy. Just thought I should make that clear in case you did not notice.

The plans were in order. The wedding coordinator was Jackson’s sister so expenses were cut. Zye’s aunt was a caterer who loved charity work so they were pretty much in the clear with that too. Everything was set until Zye caught the illustrious Jackson Morris with his pants down—literally. Two weeks before their grand flight to holy matrimony Mr. Morris was caught red handed with a minor. This twenty something year old man was getting it on with a seventeen year old fella in the music studio that Zye frequented quite often to visit his fiancé.

There was music in the air alright. Music and high pitched screams that had nothing to do with harmony and such things. The seventeen year old had been a mentee of Zye’s and he had even introduced the boy to Jackson in hopes of getting the boy on to something positive. Irony is a hateful, conniving thing isn’t it?

Now the cheating isn’t the worst part. Here is the kicker…Jackson had no remorse. This arrogant negro had the nerve to even blame Zye for his infidelity. Asking him “How could you leave me alone with someone that fine and fit?” It was apparently Zye’s fault for not trusting a grown ass man around a high school senior. The teen never pressed charges so Jackson didn’t face any legal backlash but it left a mean scar on Zye’s heart. A blistering scar if you ask me. When I heard how bad this guy had treated Zye I wanted to hunt the cheating bastard down and just beat the living hell out of him for old time’s sake. Zye had been so hurt at the betrayal that his anger never sat in. The rawness of his love and pain caused him to shut down for a little while. He even went into therapy to help get over the contempt and enable him to move on. And move on he did. He took so many steps into the future until one warm summer night when he and I were on a date and we saw the pompous Jackson Morris riding up in a very nice Benz.

[For the rest of this particular chapter in my life, it might be best if the kiddies were told to go play with their toys or something. Parental Guidance is strongly, and I do mean strongly, encouraged.]

“Bay, I love the way your hand fits mine. Our fingers always interlace so…so…easily. Like they were meant to interlace.” Zye said this to me as we were walking on the sidewalk. In our city, just like in many cities, we have a strip full of stores, clubs, restaurants and all that stuff. The streets are always lit and people flood them, friends, teens, adults, club-hoppers, everyone with a nightlife.

We were heading to a nice lounge spot. Clubs just weren’t our thing. We honestly didn’t see the point in clubbing because most people go to the club to find someone and, well, I had who I wanted. We were about to cross the street when this sleek Benz pulled up. Rims were all ablaze, soft R&B music blaring. It caught the attention of many of the drunks and what have you who were going about their mess. I just stared…because I’m nosey. And that curiosity caused me to overlook Zye’s sudden stillness. He had even stopped talking.

The driver’s door opened and this tall, light skinned black guy steps out. He did absolutely nothing for me but if I had been a woman or a “regular” gay guy I would have gawked just like the people around us. Dude was very attractive. I heard a couple of people, both male and female, say ‘damn’. But I heard one distinct voice say “Fuck.” That was the voice of Zye. I looked at him then.

His eyes had gotten wide. There was even a tear [of all things] in one of them. My hand was holding his more than his was holding mine. I looked from Zye to the mystery guy and I suddenly knew. I had this psychic moment, a moment of clairvoyance. The guy was Jackson.

“Zye, honey, how have you been?” The cheerfulness in this bastard’s voice was sickening. For some reason he stayed near the car. Leaning on it, profiling—almost like there was a photographer and a dressing room waiting for him. He suddenly wasn’t as attractive as he had been at first.

“You.” Said Zye, and it seemed like that took a lot out of him.
I was in a limbo. I didn’t know whether to say something or walk over and stick him in his jaw so, when uncertainty is around, do nothing. I just stood there watching the scene unfold.

“Yes me. So you gonna act like you don’t know me now, baby? Am I suddenly strange to you?” I looked at the bastard then. I gave him my full on gaze because I was getting heated. Patronization is my thing, I knew sarcasm as if it were my own little baby that I had nurtured and cared for.

“You…you fuckin’ piece of shit!” Zye took a step toward the asshole. I held him back. It was like I wasn’t even there. Jackson simply smiled and gave this innocent face.

“Oh, don’t be like that. Zyiah, you know me. Its me…Jackson. I know you remember the good times we had. You remember…” I could tell he was insinuating sexual memories. This let me know that he didn’t know Zye. Zye wasn’t a sex fiend. You couldn’t appeal to him sexually unless you already had him emotionally.

“Fuck you, Jacky. Just go straight to hell.” Zye turned, grabbed my hand and pulled me with him. “My, let’s just go.” I almost protested but I went along with it.
“Oh, ok. Is this your new flavor of the weak Zyiah? Some dick on the side? You know I am really the one you want. This broke nigga can’t do nothing for you.” Broke? Me? I’m not rich but poor I am not in the least. I kept walking. We were going further away from the drama but sometimes drama has a habit of following you. Jackson left his car and walked after us, talking rather loudly.

“Zyiah. Boo, you know what it is. You remember the screams? The moans in the night. You remember? Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me!” Jackson was trailing us by a few yards. Zye didn’t respond or turn around. His force of will was ironclad unlike mine. But I followed his lead.

Do you know that this man started singing? Like…what the fuck? Who does that? He started hitting all kinds of notes singing, “Boy, I know you hear me talking,” his voice was sultry and strong, “so how you just gonna keep on walking.” Zye never lost his stride but I did see him wince slightly, as if he had been struck by invisible hands. My rage flared with that wince.

“Now you deaf. You can’t hear me when I’m clearly talking to you. You always had the mindset of a bitch Zye. Even that kid knew that and that’s why he showed me what a real man was.” Zye stopped and I looked at him. He was crying. I know ya’ll are getting tired of something in me snapping but once again, that is exactly what happened. This tipsy chick walked by me at this moment with a bottle of some type of liquor in her hand. Without thinking I grabbed it.

Zye was crying and his back was still turned to Jackson. By this time, since we had stopped, Jackson was only a couple of feet away from us. With the bottle in my hand I faced him.

“So you gonna speak for Zye now? He doesn’t have a mouth? Or do you wanna fight me? Is that it? You a thug, nigga?” Taunting me does one of two things; it annoys me and/or it causes me to react. At that moment it simply annoyed me. But I did take a step closer.

“Jackson, right? Let me tell you something. You, my friend, are the BITCH. You are the bastard, the child molester, the perverse motha fucka that gives gay men a bad name. YOU are the asshole, the callous arrogant piece of shit who only has himself to blame for his losses in life.” My teeth were clenched. I had borrowed my boo’s will power. It took all my might and then some not to crack that bottle on his head just for smirking at me the way he was. Zye’s tears were fresh in my mind too.

“I’m all that? Hmm. I may be but what I am not is afraid of you. I took classes in self defense. So come at me if you want to, be brave if you want to, but I promise you. I promise you that one of us is going to be on the ground and it won’t be me. ” Jackson Morris proclaimed this with the utmost surety.

He lucky that jail is not a place I am willing to go over foolishness. But I am willing to go to jail and back for the one I love. I needed him to come at me first. I needed it to be self-defense so I’d be less likely to face charges. He wanted to taunt me to move first but I needed the same thing so I said the only thing that came to mind. I said:
“Yo momma.”
“What the hell?” Jackson responded.

“Yo momma is a stupid bitch for raising a demon of a son like you.” I hit the mark and apologized to his momma. I’m pretty sure she didn’t know that she had raised Lucifer himself. He came at me in anger and some crazy looking fighting stance.
With all of his tae-qwon-whatever I never seen someone hit the ground so fast. I barely tapped him with the bottle. I struck him right across the face. It didn’t even break but he went down on the sidewalk…hard. The impact was so crucial that he just laid there groaning. He could barely turn on his back, blood on his face. His expensive clothing marred and torn. I took a certain amount of gratification from it.
“Next time you make a promise Jackson, make sure you keep it. You broke your promise twice motha fucka, and next time the ground might be six feet deep instead.” I said this and grabbed Zye who had a satisfied expression on his face. Jackson was left there, in all his glory, moaning. No doubt his pride hurt more than he was.

“Baby…I can’t believe you did that…for me. Jackson just affects me in such a way. I thought I was over it but…” Zye trailed off while we sat in The Lounge, the spot for the grown and sexy. I wiped his tears and smiled at him.

“Sweetheart, I’d do that and more for you. I don’t ever wanna see you cry and if I do then I’ll do what I can to stop it.” We stared at each other while a sexy soul song played in the background.

I rubbed his cheek and saw the hurt in his eyes melt away. The pain and embarrassment that Jackson Morris’s betrayal had left him with. I saw it take flight like an adolescent eagle, leaving the nest never to return again. When it was completely gone I cemented the importance of that moment with a soft kiss on the lips. Nothing lingering and sexual—just a chaste touch of lips. Closure is a beautiful thing, especially when it ends with the beginning of something that will never need to be closed.

Poker Face (Chapter 2)

Barry sat down on his bed, exhausted, once Lisa left. He was numb and glad that his roommate was MIA. The tears strolled down his face, gently at first but then they came violently like an internal maelstrom. So many feelings, so much emotion that he could not account for: anger, embarrassment, sorrow, remorse, but mostly there was just pain. An anguish that fluctuated inside day in and day out. He was a bisexual and he felt it was the greater curse.

It didn’t seem that any one person could keep him truly happy. The women had something he desired, something he needed. The curves, the beauty, no man could imitate no matter how androgynous. And then, on the other hand, there was the hardness, the strength, the familiarity of a man that no woman could master no matter how masculine she was, she was always a woman.

Barry loved Lisa. Loved her more than anyone in his past yet she could not satisfy him. Mathias, one of his aces, whom he thought was straight came on to him and suddenly he could barely remember Lisa’s name. He forgot himself for a moment and once he forgot himself, how could he remember her? Mathias was attractive but nothing to sing about. Lisa was gorgeous. Her dark brown hair with its natural high lights and her complexion, so clear and brown. Like being in a pond but looking through the liquidity to see the sun shining down through the murkiness. But she did not have the hardness of a man, and never could.

Lisa was hurt, he understood that; probably more than most people. He just had to get her to hate him because she would have been hurt either way. Eventually he would have come to a point in their relationship where nothing she did was enough because it wasn’t in her nature to do. He hoped he cut her deep enough for her to hate him, but not deep enough for her to forsake all men. It was not Barry’s goal to damage Lisa, he was trying to protect her blindly, not considering the consequences of his words which replayed in his mind: “Mat fucked me just fine.”

The scream that came from his body was ragged, like it was ripped from his throat. Mathias had not had sex with him. They had only engaged in oral sex, no intercourse but he wanted Lisa to see the potential, to really understand the possibilities and to run from them. It hurt that he couldn’t trust himself and he left the bed to stare into the mirror at the riddle that he was. A man cursed to always want more and have no one that can ever truly fulfill the void. Rage came over him.

The mirror shattered as he recoiled his hand, bloody and sore from punching his reflection. Standing there, both his soul and his body crying, all he could do was bleed.

Introduction of: "Murphy Me"

I’m convinced that romance doesn’t exist. And that fairytales are really stories of fake love instead of true love because the love I have seen doesn’t do any of the shit that Disney claims it does. No kiss has awoken me from unwanted sleep, no knight in shining armor has swept me off my feet, no dwarves have saved me from an evil bitch—oops, I meant witch—in order to live happily ever after with some fine ass prince. So I’m convinced that I don’t have a prince and this is how I get through life. We all have our coping mechanisms—this is mine: un-expectation. If you don’t expect something then you can’t be disappointed when you don’t get it. At least…that’s the theory. I’ll let you know if it really works or not once I actually apply it. Basically, no matter how much I pretend I always expect some prince or knight or hell, even a serf, to come and give me that fairytale romance. Hasn’t happened yet. And I’m not really hopeful that it will. Call me cynical. I won’t disagree with you.

I could go into so much detail about my life and about how this bitterness or this unfaith in love grew to this extent. I could…but I won’t because you really don’t need to know all of this to understand. Only one chapter in my life, one long ass moment in time, defined me as this beautifully cynical person that you see before you.

My name is Murf. Well not really, my real name is Murphy Blake. I think my mother was high when she signed the birth certificate but don’t tell her I said that. I’m 27, 5’10, medium brown skinned, bald with grey eyes, and ears that have a little point at the top. No elf jokes or we are gonna have complications.

Those pretty much sum up my physical characteristics. Oh wait, I’m not buff, I’m not scrawny either. Let’s just say I was blessed with a body that looks like I work out but not strenuously. Plus my abs kind of started fading away when I hit 23, but my tummy is still nice to look at. I’m not ugly, not in the least. I’m not psycho or overemotional, well I wasn’t any of those things when my heart got obliterated and I lost faith in the myth of true love.

Right now, I’m lonely. Not just alone. I’m lonely as hell and I’m not in denial about it. One contributing factor to my singleness might be that gay men are not any better than straight men, they just stereotypically dress better and look a bit more taken care of. To go along with the fact that I’m gay, I’m not a stereotype. I have no idea what the latest lingo is unless I read it on Facebook or some other community website. I don’t consider myself a top or a bottom…let’s just say, I am what I am. I have feminine moments and masculine moments, so does everyone else. I’m not into labels as you can see.

Despite all that I just said, I’m not picky. You don’t have to be damn near DL for me to be attracted to you—DL meaning damned and lifeless. That’s what I call those dudes who won’t step into who they are for fear of society or enjoyment of being another trifling man with no regard for his life or the ones who he’s screwing or being screwed by. Neither am I against the Little Richards of the world, granted I do not have a thing for Little Richard. Make-up, when it looks like a mask, is not a turn-on for me. Nothing personal, just fact.

Wow…I’m babbling now. Well not really. I just wanted you to see that there is really no reason for me to be a hopeless romantic with no faith in the future of my love life all because of my past. My friends, oops, I meant friend (no plurality), tells me that I’m gonna get over it. She tells me that somebody is gonna sweeten the bitterness out of me. Let’s just say that I’m not waiting for it.

Anyway, I guess I can go ahead and get to the point…or rather the story that has made me the sparkling bundle of sunshine you have before you right now. Perhaps I shouldn’t call it a story, it’s more than that. It’s a painful reality that I try not to revisit consciously but it’s always there…mocking me. The one time I thought love had found me. The one time I thought I had one of those chick-flick loves, I realized it was just a bunch of bull. Well…go ahead, sit back. It’s time to go there. I hope it doesn’t leave you as jaded as I am.

MyAn's Truth (Episode 4)

“I kissed a girl and I liked it, the taste of her cherry chapstick. I kissed a girl just to try it, hope my boyfriend don’t mind…” Yes, I am singing that song. Am I getting gayer? God I hope not. The point of that song is the fact that there was one girl who didn’t turn me down. She was before Zye of course. Nyani might have even loved me. Yep, MyAn and Nyani. We were made for each other, right? Uh, WRONG!

Chick was too damn independent. She was so independent that one night I had dropped by her apartment to surprise her with roses and a night of wining and dining and got a surprise of my own. Am I romantic? Shhh…don’t let Zye know. But in any case, Nyani was so independent that when I arrived at her place I saw another car there. A rather nice car if I do say so myself. Either girly was dumb as hell or evil as hell because she had given me a key. And I used the S.O.B. to see what the fuck was going on in my girl’s house…without me.

I lost it. I don’t quite know if I ever had it all but if I did I lost every damn bit of it when I saw her with another man. A man who she had promised was only her best friend. Maybe it’s just me but none of my best friends have ever had their hands all under my britches…yes, britches. I’m allowed country moments.

Nyani was on the kitchen counter breathless and obviously about to get to business with Ron, her alleged best friend. After I saw all that the rest was a blur of screams, punches, and broken relics in her apartment. To cut the story short we broke up. It hurt me so bad because I was very close to being in love with that woman and then she did some janky shit like that. Hence…my cynicism has been well earned.

The point of all that extra knowledge was the fact that this trick tried to come back to me. Surprising how commonplace it is to go to a grocery store but never expect to meet with someone you knew, especially someone that had cheated on you and incinerated your heart. Zye and I had been looking for something to try out on the grill that I had just bought. It was a nice grill. Had the latest everything on it. We’d been official for about three weeks at this time and the love was there from the moment we met.

There was a good sale on a variety of steaks so Zye and I were debating on which steak would be the best to try first. Then, I saw her. Walking towards us with a smile on her face and it was all for me.

“Oh shit.” There was feeling with that too. It caused Zye to look up from the beef.
“What? What is it?”
“You’ll know in about 3-2—” I started the countdown to a big ass scene in the middle of Foodlion.
“Hey MyMy!” Nyani called me by my pet name, one I hadn’t heard in about two years.
“Yo…how ya been?” I asked. I hate awkward situations. Nyani didn’t seem to notice as she stood there holding a gallon of milk.
“Oh, so its like that? I can’t even get a hug?” She gave me the pouty face that used to make me feel like a mindless zombie.

The hug was awkward and uncomfortable. The tension was so thick I felt like I was encased by it. Nyani’s eyes flicked to Zye. I saw the question in them. Zye wasn’t standing intimately close to me but we were a couple and he wasn’t a mile away either. Nyani didn’t know about my new relationship because last I’d heard she’d moved to another state after our little altercation.

“Oh...Nyani, this is Zye—Zyiah. Zyiah this is Nyani.” She smiled flirtatiously and shook his hand. For the first time Zye didn’t try to dazzle anyone with his charisma. Something was wrong. God, why me?

“MyAn, you never told me you had such a cute friend.” She playfully pushed me but her eyes were all for Zye. Do you see the problem with this broad? She was a bit too widespread for me if you know what I mean.

“Uh...yeah. I guess I didn’t.” I had one of my premonitions again. This was about to get really bad really quickly. Looking back on it, I should have just ducked out of there or something before she got to us to avoid the whole situation.

When I said that Zye made a noise. It was something like a cough, or more like a sarcastic grunt. When I heard that I knew my premonition was dead on the money.
“So that’s what it is?” I looked at Zye when he said this and the anger was all but concealed. Damn it! He was heated and at that moment I didn’t really understand why so he proceeded to explain it to me.

“I’m the friend you never introduced. Is that right?” He went on and on. Nyani was looking perplexed and I was feeling like someone had punched me in my stomach. I never thought Zye was the jealous type or the type to make things flair up from nothing.

“What is he talkin’ about, MyMy?” Nyani scrutinized me very carefully. The wheels in her head spinning out of control. They both were staring at me. I felt like I wanted to die and reincarnate into something that could dip out of that store without being noticed.

“Nyani…Zye is…well…” I couldn’t even finish.

“I’m his boyfriend, bitch. And I don’t appreciate the way you were all up on him when you hugged him either.” That was it. Zye dropped the bomb and it blew the hell up too. I suddenly had a bit more empathy for Hiroshima and the whole Pearl Harbor incident.

Nyani stood gaping at Zye. Her eyes looked like golf balls and her pretty little face was twisted in utter confusion. Zye’s face was blank. The anger was hidden behind that beautiful mask of nothing. I knew he was waiting for me. Waiting, fearfully no doubt, to see if I would deny his ass or be a man…his man.

“First of all, who the fuck are you callin’ a bitch, motha fucka!” Nyani began the neck rolling thing and I simply put my head down. People were walking by looking like “Oh Lord, there go some more angry black people making the rest of us look bad.” I had given people that look before. I knew it quite well.

“Damn it, nigga you gonna answer me. And what is this bull shit you talkin’? You his fuckin’ boyfriend? Is that so?” She averted her fiery gaze to me. “So you a fuckin’ fag now? I fucked you up so bad that you had to go get on somebody dick, is that it?”

Time stopped. Not literally but it slowed down or something. Nyani was a loud person by nature. When she got pissed that was magnified by a hundred. I was not in anybody’s closet but that does not mean I want it announced to the general public, especially worded that way.

“Nyani—”I began.

“What My? What the fuck is it? I know he aint lyin’ cuz you aint beat the shit outta him for sayin’ some shady shit like that in the first place. So what the hell you got to say, huh? Let me know. I want to fuckin’ know why you don’t like pussy no more? A bitch aint good enough for you? Tell me.”

“Why the fuck you gotta make a scene?” My lips were clenched. I tried my best to contain my anger.

“A scene!” Her voice got impossibly higher. She was almost squeaking now.
“Yes, a scene.” It took heaven to keep my voice low.
“Oh, no. You aint seen a scene yet motha fucka. I got your scene.” She turned away from us. “Can somebody tell me how a nigga can leave a bitch to be with another nigga? When does ass beat pussy? Somebody tell m—”

That was it. I snapped. The reason she didn’t finish her sentence is because I snatched her. I covered her mouth with my hand so she’d shut the fuck up. People were staring and it pissed me off even more.

I whispered in her ear, “I’m gonna let you go now. I want you to be calm. Can you do that?” She nodded a yes. I let her go. BIG mistake.

“I can’t believe you!” Tears were flowing from her eyes. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you!”

All I could do was stare at her, trying not to show anything that would make her angrier. I had not expected her to cry. Zye began to pull me away…carefully and slowly. The way you’d back away from an escaped tiger or something.

“Oh my God! And you’re gonna leave with him? So the shit is true? You on dick now?!” Nyani’s anger had leaked away to pure hurt. Weariness overcame me and I just let Zye pull me away.

“You know, if what you claim were true I could definitely see why he would leave a crazy bitch like you for a man.” Zye said this to Nyani. All she could do was stare at him. For the first time in her life she was speechless.

Once Zye and I were home he came and apologized to me. I accepted. And I apologized to him as well for not standing up for him, for us. It seems that seeing her made him feel insecure because he knew I had never been with a man before. He hadn’t liked the way she’d touched me all possessive and stuff. His bitchiness came from a good place…love.

“Baby, you don’t have to worry about that. You got me. That bitch sure as hell won’t have me again. Especially not after screaming like a banshee in public. I can’t believe how psycho she is. She seemed to conveniently forget that I left her cheatin’ ass cuz she was fuckin’ her best friend when she was supposed to be with me.” We were cuddled together on the couch.

“Hahaha. I guess so. My…I love you so much.” That made me smile like a damn clown. He had that affect on me.

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything.” We stared in each other’s eyes for a minute or so and then we kissed. Duh! What else would we do in such a passionate moment? In the middle of the kiss Zye grunted. I thought I was just getting to him because I’m so damn sexy then I realized he was trying to talk.

“Say what bay?” I whispered.

“I said…We never got the damn steak. I’m hungry as hell.”

That night was finished with laughter. I never thought I’d have drama. My past doesn’t usually come up all that much because I don’t have that much of a past. I couldn’t hold Zye’s actions against him when he met the only person who had ever returned my affection besides him. I had to forgive him especially after what I did when I met one of his exes, the one whom he’d damn near married.