Let Them Go

Here’s a piece dedicated to healing. 

Read this piece to TGIF by Glorilla. It's a long one, so continue reading this piece to anything within Monaleo's discography. Those are the vibes.

Before I begin: Thank you to everyone who pissed me off this week. I finally have the writing bug again. Enjoy! 

This piece will be broken into four instances of life lived lessons that have taught me something about trauma, ego, and pride and how they can manifest into delusion and/or the deterioration of relationships and peace.  Feel free to use these instances as “chapters.”

Instance #1:  The Middle Brother & Me (March 12, 2025)

I’ve never been cheated on. I’m not a cheater. 

Once upon a time I was a law student in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Per the plight of a Black woman, finding a quality stylist in today’s society has been a struggle. After the recommendation of a close friend in law school, I found one. An actual stylist. A quality stylist. One who washed & blow dried hair. Someone who was kind & didn’t make my 4C thick head of coils & kinks feel like a burden. She affirmed the beauty of my hair. She made me feel relaxed and safe. When I say this young lady is talented, I mean talented! She ate down on some hair. Her hands were truly blessed. The Kim Kimble of Baton Rouge if you will. 

I found a quality stylist & I was a repeat customer. 

During my last semester of school, my closest friends & I planned a trip to New York. My mom had a free room at the Marriott in Times Square & I had a best friend at Columbia Law, so we decided to make a bestie trip out of the occasion. I’ve never been to New York. I dreamed of one day living in the Big Apple. So with this thinking in mind, I wanted to look super cute in New York: the photo opp mecca. 

 I scheduled an appointment with my girl. 

During my previous appointment with her, I have never known her to have a full salon. In the sense, that if you were getting your hair done by her, from my experience you will be in & out without seeing another client. A quality I liked, because it made the appointment feel more intimate. However on this occasion someone came in during the tail end of my appointment. It was a young man with a child. I never knew her to service men or children. I was indifferent, but I did initially feel like my appointment was being encroached on. So I wanted to look around & see who was in this intimate space at this time. I was facing a mirror, so my back was turned when they entered. I could only hear the voice of the young man. Typical Louisiana slang. It sounded sexy. 

At this point of my life, I had been celibate for over a year. I was about eight months from hitting my two year milestone. To sum it up, I was horny & anything could get me aroused those days. Especially a voice. So I was trying to peak in the mirror to see who this man was. I couldn’t get a good glimpse. The most I saw was that he and his son had locs.  From deductive reasoning, I concluded that this was her (my stylist’s) brother. The child was his son, and the son was getting a retwist for his own little locs after she was finished with me. We finished the appointment. I gathered my belongings & left. End of story, or so I thought. 

That appointment was in August of 2024. Fast forward to the end of January/the beginning of February of 2025. I’m followed on Instagram by a young man. He DM’s me. I can instantly deduce that this is my stylist’s brother. The brother from the August appointment.

A smidge of context. By this time, I’ve lived in Baton Rouge for three & a half years. Dating in Baton Rouge has not been an experience to write home about. I’ve ranted about rape for the majority of my time in law school so that halted any semblance of a dating life within my law center. Which was not a negative. I did not want to date within the law center. I abhorred most of the men there. They were complacent with hanging out with my rapist or they were not supportive of my plight to hold my rapist accountable for his actions. 

My other dating prospects came from my local gym. The men there were eager to express interest in dating me, but the follow through was trash. 

Imagine:

Them: “Hey Jess, I’d like to take you out.”

Me: “Sure”

Them: Pure silence. 

Or

I actually agree to the date. We go out. Then there’s no follow up for a second date until months later. 

I’m good love. 

Anwar White is my dating guru on Tik Tok. If you don’t ask me out for a follow up date within two weeks, you become a stranger again. 

So bottom line, the follow up with dating in Baton Rouge, for me, was nonexistent. 

When her brother DM’ed me, I was analyzing his approach. It was direct. Straight to the point. My speed. Oh, for purposes of identification, let’s call the brother, The Middle Brother moving forward. 

He said: “I’m interested. I want to take you out.”

Okay. When & where Middle Brother? I gave him my number. He immediately set a date. My speed. 

At this point, I’ve graduated from law school & I’m moving from Baton Rouge in two weeks. Let’s go out for the plot. Maybe I can end this venture with a good date. Rectify a trash ass dating scene. We go out. I won’t lie, it was a very thoughtful first date. 

I’ve made a personal vow to myself that I won’t continue to pursue men who don’t bring me flowers on a first date. That’s bare minimum for me. A test that luckily no man has failed for my past three first dates. I don’t announce this requirement. It’s a temperature test. I believe young women should be courted. I don’t feed into the Twitter discourse. If you don’t think I’m worth flowers on a first date, you aren’t the man for me. Period. Point blank. 

  I kept fresh flowers in my apartment weekly as a reminder that I’m worth flowers. Let me repeat, I’m worth flowers. All women are. Shameless plug: More women should adopt this stance. If he doesn’t bring you flowers on a first date, he hates you & he’ll kill you. Dead that the second the date is over. Love, Your Curlfriend.

Also shameless plug: A small bouquet of flowers at Trader Joe’s is $3.99. Remember, I bought four small bouquets WEEKLY for three & a half years. You are worth more than $3.99. That should be your bare minimum standard. 

Let’s talk about the date. He picked me up. Which I prefer. I know how dangerous that predicament can be in today’s society, but it is a preference in my courting playbook. I sent pictures to my friends. His mom’s Instagram page is public, you could easily find out information with a swift scroll. His sister does my hair. If he murdered me that night, at least solving the murder would have been fairly easy. When he came to my apartment door, he had a flower arrangement in a vase with a bow. It was instantly the sweetest gesture. He was off to a good start. 

Before our date, he asked me what my favorite foods were.  A gesture that I found considerate.  I also appreciated the fact that I could mention that I do not enjoy Asian food.  I can tolerate it, but it is not a preference. When we got in his car and I saw him enter an address for an Asian restaurant, I did feel some type of way.  Maybe a yellow flag moment, but I did actually enjoy this Asian restaurant, so I brushed off the moment and tried to continue to give him a clean slate. 

  At the restaurant, I had first date jitters.  I was nervous.  I didn’t want things to be awkward, even though that is typically inevitable. Though, things were slightly awkward, he came off so sweet.  We both discussed that we liked the restaurant and had been a few times.  We suggested different things that the other should try.  When we ordered drinks, I did not take heed to his drink suggestion.  He ended up ordering the drink he suggested and I ordered the drink I was eyeing.  It was disgusting. 

  After I made a face in disgust, he scooted his drink toward me.  He said “I ordered this for you, I’ll take that one” (in reference to the yuck drink).  I felt like that was such a sweet gesture, and I did end up enjoying his drink much more than my original. 

  I firmly live by the notion that first dates should be treated as interviews.  Let’s get out our political views, our past traumas, what makes us tick.  Let me scan and analyze if this may work. However, on this date, I was curious about those things, but I was also moving from the city within two weeks—likely never to return long term.  Therefore, I did want to know about him, but probing too deeply would not serve a purpose. 

Remember he has a child, so he brought him up.  He asked me how I felt about dating men with children.  I told him it was not ideal.  I asked him how he felt about long distance relationships.  I wanted to pick his brain about what his intentions were with this date, as he knew I was moving soon.  He said that it was not ideal.  So I chalked this interaction up to be a fun night before my departure from this city,  but nothing more.

  I asked him about his relationship with his child’s mother.  Let’s call her Ruby.  He disclosed that they were not together and would not get back together.  In my head and thinking of the age of their child, I wondered: “why not fight for your family?”, but also in the same breathe, I do believe that for the best interest of the child, many couples would do better by separating. I inquired why they would never get back together?  He disclosed that she cheated on him and that was a nonnegotiable. I appreciated his transparency.  I felt hurt for him that he was cheated on.  I also felt like there was more to this story, but again, I’m moving soon.  This wasn’t my issue to press or my issue to solve.

After our dinner, he told me that he had another activity planned.  I’m impressed.  I ask him what we’ll be doing.  He said it’s a surprise.

He said: “You don’t like surprises do you?”

I replied: “I don’t.”

A cute moment.  He finally did disclose that we would be going to a pottery class. I instantly thought of the movie Ghost!  How romantic and so thoughtful. The current dating pool is in Hell.  Dinner.  Movies.  Mostly just dinner or a meal.  I was so impressed that we were doing an actual activity, and even more touched that it was an activity that I had never tried before. We attend the class. 

The way I learn or access the interest in my hobbies depends on how good I am at something.  If I’m instantly good, I love it.  If I suck, I’m turned off and hate it. Pottery making is so hard.  I felt like I couldn’t do the movements and I felt like my blob of clay would never turn into anything other than a blob of clay. But The Middle Brother was so encouraging.  He was often affirming me and uplifting me during the class.  He constantly said I was doing a good job and was very engaged in the process.

Am I?  Was I? I feel like I’m getting frustrated and the cup that I’m making is horrible, but to him, I was working hard and doing well.  He made me feel comfortable, and seen. During this portion of the date, I could tell that his nervousness had worn off.  He kept trying to get closer to me.  I could feel his arms brush on mine.  I could see that he was moving closer to me every time he got a chance. It was cute.  It was sweet.

At the conclusion of the date, he drives me back home.  I invite him in. By this point, you are very well aware that I am moving from Baton Rouge in two weeks.  Up until this point, I have been celibate for 22 months.  Once, I leave Baton Rouge, I will be moving back into my childhood home with my parents. Up until this time, I have been studying for one of the hardest and most important tests of my life. I am stressed and I am unbelievably horny. All factors considered, we have sex.

Time progresses. He goes on a birthday vacation to Japan.  I move.  We do not see one another again. We do however keep in contact. 

After I move, he sends me this text: “My baby I been up all night thinking about you.  Will you send me some pictures so my imagination can run wild?”

Keep this text in mind as this story progresses.

I respond by changing the subject.  I personally evade the question because I don’t feel comfortable sending nudes.  In high school, I fell out with a former boyfriend.  During the midst of an argument, he sends me nude pictures that I sent him in the past.  I was under the impression that these photos had been deleted after our breakup.  His manner of reintroducing the images during a heated argument was my first introduction to revenge porn.  Since then, I have been extremely hesitant to send any explicit images of myself to a romantic partner. I personally don’t see the appeal of nude photos, however I am not naïve or judgmental to the fact that they are sent.  My phone has been on the receiving end of many unsolicited dick pics. All of that to say, my stance on sending The Middle Brother nudes was not a positive one. 

  During this time, I was also focused on my test.  The test was quickly approaching.  My mental state was horrible. I had recently been diagnosed with major depression, PTSD and ADHD a few weeks before the test.  I was prescribed medication.  The medication left me the side effect of no appetite.  I was not eating.  I remember not eating for an entire week.  I didn’t get any hunger headaches.  My stomach did not growl.  I did not eat. 

  Exercise has been a daily portion of my life for the past three and a half years.  I was not exercising. I was back at home.  I had no job.  I felt unprepared for my test.  I lost my gym gains.  I was skinny.  I was utterly and thoroughly depressed. Nudes were the last thing on my mind.

  I began to resent the notion that he would inquire about nudes during such an emotional time in my life.  I began to imagine that this relationship dynamic was solely physical for him.  Which was fine, but that would leave me with the decision to reevaluate my view of our connection.

  I pressed on with studying preparation and approached each day with the hope that I would wake up one day and feel normal again.  That I would feel like myself.  That I would escape depression and the low self image that I currently had.

  We still continued to talk.  I revealed to him that I was celibate for almost two years leading up to our thrust.  He began to become very transparent.  He wanted to talk on the phone quite often.  He revealed that he enjoyed cooking.  He would send me over 20 photos of dishes he had made in the past.  He would send me pictures of his son.  He would ask me to talk to his son on the phone.  (Moments involving his son gave me pause, because I felt like the introduction was premature, but then again, I am not raising that child, so who am I to comment on his parenting?)

On February 22nd, a few days before my long anticipated test, we were on FaceTime. By this time, our conversations had shifted from the nude photo conversations to him being more vulnerable.  I felt that he was truly trying to be himself.  I felt like he wanted to get to know me and more importantly, he wanted me to know him.

  On this particular FaceTime call he suggests that we meet in a mutual city and have a weekend getaway together. It’s late, and I’m half sleep.  I think that it is a thoughtful gesture, but I also think: “this nigga is just talking.”

He’s sending me links to Airbnbs and mentioning hotels by name.  I’m on my phone looking at the Airbnbs, and hotels and voting on my preferences.  He says that he’ll cover the costs.  We eventually decide that we will meet in Memphis, TN.  Our ultimate activity that weekend will be to attend a Memphis Grizzlies vs. Miami Heat game. He offers to buy me a flight to Memphis.  Memphis is only three hours from Nashville.  After attending school in Louisiana, and making the 8-9 hour drive one way back and forth to Tennessee throughout the past few years—3 hours was nothing.  Planes during this time were literally falling out of the sky. I assured him that he could save costs by just allowing me to drive. I didn’t mind the drive.  After my test, I would have enjoyed three hours in the car.  Just me, my thoughts and music. I think overall it was a great gesture.  I’ve lived in Tennessee my entire life, and I’ve never attended a Grizzlies game.  Eventually, I do fall asleep. 

  When I wake up, he has texted me.  He acknowledges that he figured out I feel asleep, but he wanted me to know that he already purchased the Grizzlies’ game tickets and instead of the Airbnb I voted for, he opted for a Quality Inn close to the FedEx stadium.  Yes, a Quality Inn. 

  He elaborated that the hotel “wasn’t what he was used to, but it was still decent nonetheless.”  He also disclosed that the tickets were also on the cheaper side, but he had a plan.  During the game, (because according to him this game would not sell out) we could sneak down from our seats to closer empty seats. 

  I’ve never attended a baecation.  I don’t believe in dictating how someone should spend their money.  I was willing to overlook preferences, because I cared about him and actually did want to spend time with him.

After his disclosure, I texted him: “Wow, you’re the sweetest.”

He replied: “I told you, I’m a doer and I’m different than these dudes.” 

I can’t explain it, but that text raised a flag.  Maybe another yellow flag.

March finally rolls around. 

On March 2nd, he texts me: “You don’t like to answer yo phone huh?”

I previously missed a call from him.  I took it as a joking text.  I brush it off and tell him that that isn’t true.  He sends me a picture of what he’s doing. Who do I see?  His child’s mother, Ruby, front and center.  By all means I believe healthy co parenting relationships should definitely exist, but when he sent me that photo, I immediately thought from her point of view.  Why send a picture of me to the girl you’re talking to?  Why does she have to see me? 

  I found it odd.  I praised him for having a healthy coparenting day with his family and our conversation progressed past it.  He then went on to send me pictures of his apartment.  He wanted me to view his decoration skills.  Another gesture that I took as he wanted me to know him more deeply.  He sent me songs, funny tweets, and random reels on Instagram.  He acted as if he genuinely wanted to be known, seen and valued. Not only this, he expressed several times verbally that he wanted to see this relationship progress.  I expressed to him that he constantly reiterated that he was single. 

  I told him he did not have to explain to me that he was single.  I was aware.  I was also aware that I too, was single.  I didn’t need the constant reminder.  He stopped me.  He said that he often repeated he was single as a boundary reinforcement method for himself.  He was a “lover boy” and to counteract falling deeply for someone, he reinterated that he was single for himself.  He apologized and said he would no longer reemphasize the notion.  He assured me that he actually did like me a lot and he hoped our relationship would build into something.  He was being intentional with getting to know me. 

I felt like our relationship was intentional.  From my own point of view, I was using this relationship to measure my own personal growth.  In the past, I have not had the best luck with relationships.  I give my all, I create false realities, and ultimately I end up hurt.  I was a “lover girl” too.  I could appreciate him being vulnerable, because I too, had created my own boundaries when it comes to dating. 

Jess’ Holy Grail of Dating Rules:

• I don’t save numbers until you actually become “someone” within my life.  Until then, you are a stranger pursuing me. 

• Once your number is saved, I put three hearts beside your name.  Three hearts is equivalent to three strikes.  You lose all your hearts, you lose me.  You do something big enough?  Forget the hearts—I’m gone.  You start off on death row around here, you have to work to be proven innocent. 

• I don’t reach out.  In the early stages, I prefer to be courted and sought after.  Chased if you will, I’m a lady.  I don’t enjoy phone conversations. 

Today’s society and Twitter discourse will have many thinking that they must “know you” to take you on a date.  How do they accomplish that mindset?  Through a “talking stage.”

• I don’t believe in a talking stage.  I believe in dating. Courting.  Going out.  That’s how I prefer to get to know someone.  I don’t want a pin pal.  I want a partner, and I’m not going to find him by talking to you on the phone all day, or texting you all day.  After a connection has been established, cool.  I talk to my best friend on the phone every day, but she is worthy of my time.  A stranger isn’t.

• I don’t like free dates as a first date.  First dates do not have to be expensive, but a stroll in the park as a first date likely won’t fly with me.  A young man told my line sister I stopped talking to him because he wanted to take me out to ice cream on a first date.  Sounds very on brand for me.  I don’t like low effort dates.  I don’t really like ice cream, so I imagine if he would have asked, he wouldn’t have suggested such.  The park and ice cream can be reserved for later dates, sorry not sorry.

• You like me?  Ask me out.  If we don’t go out within a week—bye.  If you don’t ask me out for a second date within two weeks of our first date—bye.  You if you don’t make a commitment to monogamous dating (i.e. ask me to be your girlfriend) after three months of consistent dating—bye.

I’ve seen good women go for less and end up hurt.  I’ve gone for less and ended up hurt.  Therefore, these are my guidelines.

I went into my relationship with The Middle Brother concerned that my past trauma and relationship hurt would cause me to self sabotage.  I wanted to use this relationship to test my healing thus far. I wanted to navigate our relationship in a healthy manner, with open communication, strong boundaries and the openness to navigate my triggers and learn when needed. I went in thinking I would be the problem, but just like any test I’ve approached in the past, I go in as a pessimist and emerge learning that all of my worries were for nothing. This case isn’t any different.

The week of the trip finally comes. 

By now my test has been taken, but the depression has not subsided.  I am back in my childhood home.  My bags and boxes are still unpacked.  I’ve been in bed for days.  I haven’t showered for days.  I am in the woes of depression.  I feel skinny.  I feel ugly.  My childhood friends feel discarded because I haven’t spent time with them since I’ve returned home.  I haven’t left my home in weeks. 

I know a change has to be made.  I make the decision to stop taking my medication.  No antidepressants and no ADHD medicine.  My appetite slowly comes back.  My mental fog slowly recedes.  I begin to feel a semblance of normal once again. 

  I go into a four day manic episode of endless productivity.  I begin moving around furniture.  Unloading boxes.  Rearranging my closet.  Folding clothes, putting clothes on new hangers, & getting rid of old clothes.  I am the vision of Spongebob when he had a million arms and was doing all of his housework. 

  I finally feel good.  I can finally see light at the end of the tunnel after seeing nothing but darkness for the past two months.  My room finally begins to feel like a sanctuary.  I begin to not feel like a stranger within my own home. I have plans to finally wash my hair after a month.  I plan on doing my nails.  I plan on giving myself a facial.  I am determined to do any and everything to make myself feel normal again. 

  As all of this is going on, I am more vocal with my friends and The Middle Brother.  All parties are aware of my struggles and they are encouraging me to come out of this dark place.

I discuss with two trusted friends my upcoming trip.  They immediately pick apart several red flags that I have either missed or ignored.  I remember having a 30+ minute conversation with one of the friends about how he felt The Middle Brother was not for me.  They did not appreciate the Quality Inn as a lodging option at all.  I expressed to them concern about budgeting during the trip.  Was I expected to pay for anything?  Did he have a budget?  Would that budget constrict me from doing certain things or ordering certain things.  From that call, my friends and I concluded that I should open up a dialogue with him about budget. 

  I was hesitant.  Finances are a sensitive subject, that we’ve socially been taught to regard as private.  I was apprehensive to have this conversation.

  Previously, I relayed to The Middle Brother that while in Memphis, I wanted to go to Graceland.  Why?  Museums fascinate me.  I’ve been to Memphis several times.  I’ve practically done everything you can do in Memphis, besides attend a Grizzlies game and go to Graceland. 

  I figured, if I express that I like this place or I’m interested, someone who is interested in me would take me.  So, I suggested to him that we go.  I told him, if he didn’t want to go to just let me know.  He said he had no objections. So we make plans to go.

Fast forward.  At this point, I’ve conversed with my friends about The Middle Brother, the trip and the budget.  He calls me later that evening (after the phone call with the friends).  He says extremely bluntly: “We aren’t going to Graceland.” 

I think several things of this statement.  (1) That’s very harsh, (2) I found it hard to comprehend, because: why are you telling me what we aren’t going to do?  If I wanted to go to Graceland, I could have just bought the tickets for us.

After his statement, he provides an explanation, but it also rubs me the wrong way.  He says that the entry tickets are not within his budget.  He then goes on to explain that he has more things to prioritize and needs to be savy with his spending.  All extremely valid, but he could have asked me to buy the tickets or put the phrase and explanation in softer terms. I was very transparent about my interest in the activity and I felt that his response meant that my interests were not a priority on a supposed “couple’s trip.”

  Nonetheless, I knew that if I truly wanted to go to Graceland, I could on my own, so yet again I brushed it off.  I did however use this opportunity to bring up his budget.

“Hey, I’m so glad you mentioned your budget with Graceland.  Could we have a conversation about your budget for this trip? What are you expectations as far as me paying for activities or contributing to the budget.? Would you like me to cover the tips?  Or would you like us to alternate on who pays for activities and meals?”

He seemed surprised that I brought up finances.  He said that he was a gentleman and he expected to pay for everything.  He said he never considered that I would pay for anything.  He then came back and said: if I wanted to cover the tips, he would be fine with that.

Please remember his sentiments here as the story progresses. 

The closer we get to the trip, I don’t hear much about the trip at all.  I have to introduce the conversation about the budget.  I have to inquire about an itinerary.  I even have to remind him that the trip is this upcoming weekend.  He texts Ruby and tries to arrange for someone to babysit their son. He has not booked his flight. He has not gotten his hair cut or a retwist. Three things he said he was determined to do before the trip. Remember, we are less than a few days from the trip.

  I begin to feel uneasy.  The trip doesn’t seem like a priority to him, it barely seems on his radar due to the circumstances previously stated.  I acknowledge that I am a Type A person, and I also acknowledge that he may not be.  I conclude that his lack of structure may not equate to lack of priority.  I continue to hope for the best.

  Three days before our departure date, he makes a deal with me.  Remember, I’m skinny, my self esteem is low and I’m depressed.  He’s been encouraging me to get back in the gym.  He suggests that I go to the gym and send him a picture as proof that I got my workout in. Remember, I’m also still in my productivity manic episode.  My main focus isn’t the gym.  My main focus is getting my room together and getting myself together.  I did appreciate his gesture though. 

I continue to clean and do not go to the gym.  I’ve reneged on my promise.  He calls me and asks if I’ve been to the gym.  I tell him no.  In an effort to be a better spicy partner, knowing that I’ve neglected several relationships in my life due to my depression, I decide to give in and promise him nudes for my transgression.  I didn’t hit the gym, but I’ll send you spicy photos in anticipation of our trip. Cool.

The day goes by, I continue cleaning.  I have not showered, nor washed, or styled my hair.  My nails look a mess.  I am in no shape to produce nudes up to my standards, so I don’t send any. 

He texts me the next day: “Not a woman of your word I see.”

My Spidey senses are a bit annoyed.  No I didn’t send you any nudes.  I also wasn’t obligated to.  Coming to collect turned me off.  But what did I do again?  I knew that I was close to getting my room together, I knew that I anticipated getting cute later on that evening, nudes now wasn’t the priority.  I had things to do.  I brushed off the text. I texted him back “I am.” With the thoughts of: calm down.  Let me get my shit together.  I’ll send them later.  He responded with an emoji.  I left the message on read and proceeded with my planned work of the day.

Several hours later in the day, he texted me: “Where the proof at then?”  Once again, he was referencing the nudes.  I’m still annoyed.  This man shall see me fully naked in person in less than 48 hours.  But I’m a Goddess so I can understand the stress. I send him a few texts to assure him that he will receive some spicy photos by the end of the day.  Relax love, they are on the way.

I text him: “ETA later on tonight.”

I then send him a picture.  This picture is old.  This picture is visibly on its face old.  It is in my old apartment in Louisiana.  You all, as was the The Middle Brother, are very well aware by now that I no longer live in Louisiana.  Due to the back ground it is clear that the photo was taken in my old apartment.  The date this photo was taken on was January 31, 2025. This context is necessary, as it lets you know that my full intention was that this text would be known on its face, as old.

I send him a picture of my rose sex toy.  It is lightly glistened with water.  Someone is holding the rose (allegedly its me).  This is all the photo consists of.  No face or identifiable marks, other than the photo was taken in my former home. Along with the picture I send the following message:  “Until then, know that I miss you more everyday.”

Remember the text he sent me.  The one about “send him a picture that get his imagination going.”  That was this picture.  I wanted him to use his imagination.  If this (the splash of water on the toy) was done to this toy, if I’ve been missing you more and more each day, IMAGINE what it will be like when we see each other in less than 48 hours. 

He wasn’t thinking from a place of imagination at all.  He processed that photo with anger.

If you’d made it this far, this is where things get crazy. 

He replies: “This woulda been pressure if I was a dummy.”

“But alas, I ain’t green.”

I think he’s joking.  I can immediately pick up on the fact that he is referencing that the picture is old, but I can’t rationally see him being upset like I was tricking him, as he did when he alluded to the fact he wasn’t green or a dummy.  I knew that he knew I had moved, so I couldn’t understand why he would feel that I would be dumb enough to pass the photo off as a recent photo or that I would believe him to be dumb enough to believe the photo was recent.  Why?  Because we both knew it was impossible for the picture to be recent if it had my old apartment in the background. He usually makes jokes often, so I play into this thinking as if it’s a joke.  A little kiki because you can’t be serious right now.

I play dumb and respond: I couldn’t have thought about you when I still had my apartment?”

He replies: “That date on that picture says Jan 31st and that’s your old bathroom.”

“We ain’t go out until February nice try though lil mama”

“Gots to be mo careful lemme put you on game”

I reply: “Oh I’m actually gagged”

Because its no way this man is flying off the handle like that.  Run game?  I’ve never been cheated on. I’m not a cheater.  I guess I’m naïve.  I don’t enter into relationships with the thought nor expectation that I’ll be cheated on.  I move with positive vibes and hope for protection from heartbreak and the best.  So for him to immediately jump to: I was playing some type of game with him, it gagged me.  So, I replied: “Oh I’m actually gagged”

He replies:

“Yeah wrong nigga its cool though you gotta know I know how to play the game too  I aint een mad about it though so don’t be embarrassed  we both know what it is so let’s cut the shit”

“Plus you know I’m a nigga in tech  idk why you tried that  and I’ve been dealing with liars my whole life”

There it is: trauma.  I immediately knew that the message triggered him, and his newfound behavior (I had only known him to be kind and sweet, but somehow I was now encountering a YN, whose entire text dialogue has now changed, in tone and grammar) was a trauma response.  He feels triggered and hurt.  Okay, I can acknowledge that.  Let’s try to reel him back in.

I reply:

“Wait”

“I’m lying to you?”

Because I’m confused how this picture elicits a lie.

He replies:

“Lmao did you not just send me a pic you took for another nigga and send it to me to pretend you did that from missing me ?  cmon man stop it.  YES you are lying.  I told you I’m blunt idk why you tryna play these games.  It was a funny fuck up  I ain’t mad at you, ‘playas fuck up too’”

I reply: 

“An old pic, yes.  For someone else no.  It wasn’t a fuck up.  I knew the picture was old when I sent it.  That doesn’t take away from the sentiments  or the context I sent it in.  You really just went off on me, that wasn’t blunt, that was mean.  I didn’t send it with any ill intentions & I’ll acknowledge that it probably triggered you, but its not that.  But I do want to know, you said we both know what it is, so what is it?”

I wanted to know what he was getting out.  How am I lying?  What do you feel?  How do we get through this? I feel a fight escalating, and I’m trying to find out how I can reason with him to be a bit more rational.

He replies:

“What it is as far as the situation nothing more, nothing less.  It was sent to someone else and you resent it to me.  So that’s where the lie comes in at because you didn’t even know me in January to say it was because you were thinking about me.  If you left that part out it’d be cool if you sent me an old nude but you added a story that turned it into a lie.  But like I said I ain’t tripping on it it was just funny.”

There are many things to unpack.  (1) I did not send this photo to anyone else—ever.  It sat in my camera roll to be admired by me.  (2)  I don’t take nudes.  The highschool story explained why, but I work tirelessly and hard in the gym.  I admire my body.  I’m a sexual person.  If I wanted to take pictures of my body or sexual things such as a rose toy, that is within my right as a person.  People don’t just take nudes to be sent, they can be admired solo.  (3) Let’s say I did send them to someone else. Why would that upset you?  I could send nudes taken today to not only The Middle Brother, but to 100 different men and he would be none the wiser.  I was free to do with my body as I pleased, he was not my boyfriend. (4) He knew I was celibate for the past two years?  Who would I be sending nudes or spicy photos too?

So his visceral reaction stunned me.  Up until this point, I had known him to have good emotional maturity.  He shared with me that he did not have his father in his life growing up.  He said that this circumstance propelled him to take fostering his emotional intelligence seriously.  His father’s view on women was not positive, so in turn, The Middle Brother strived to treat women with respect and care.  But when he was hurt, all of these positive attributes and acknowledgments went out the window.

I replied: “Okay”

I could feel myself getting upset, but I knew that this scenario was a misunderstanding that could be resolved.  I decided to step back and let the dust settle.  I wanted to give him time to process the incident and hopefully realize that no evidence pointed to his conclusion.

  I hadn’t lied to him in the past.  I had been transparent about my intentions and feelings for him.  I even told him when I met up with an ex (The Banker) while back home.  I had no intentions of playing him.  There was no need.

He texts me:

“You good though or it’s gone be weird this weekend ?”

Hmmmm.  Is he a genius or what?  Yes, this weekend (referring to our Memphis trip) will be extremely weird if there is no resolve to this conflict.  You’ve just called me a liar.  Fabricated a false reality of why the picture was sent.  A false reality of how the picture has been used in the past, and a false reality of how and why we interact with one another.  I’ve seen an extreme shift in your emotional being.  You’ve hurt me and you’ve been mean.  Helen Keller could see the weirdness of this situation.

I reply:

“What do you think?”

He replies:

“Give it to me straight.  You can’t possibly be mad over some shit you said huh?  If so then idk what to tell you.  I just need to know are we still on for this weekend and is it going to be weird.  I didn’t do you anything nor was I mean.  I know you mad that I called it out and normally I’d play it off and act slow but I just don’t like doing that no more.  So its up to you love I’m cool, I ain’t mad at you over it.”

I reply:

“Okay well, do whatever you feel is best.  If you want to cancel, I’ll send you half of anything you paid for.  I didn’t like how the situation was handled at all.  I acknowledged your feelings and you still continue to project a triggered version of the events on the actual situation & I truly thought that the relationship we built would have allowed us to actually hear each other out or reflect rationally.  You’re really blowing up on me from a place of hurt, when I’ve never cheated on you.  I actually liked you & had well wishes.  But you reread all of this & really reflect on what you did.”

I’m throwing everything I’ve got at The Middle Brother.  I care.  I want him to wake up and slow down, before he pushes me to a point where we can never come back from this.

He doubles down.

He replies:

“Jess wtf lmao there’s no way you’re flipping this on me.  I just said I wasn’t tripping but you mad that I called you out.  That’s insane.  Well I guess you needed a reason  I didn’t flip out on you nor say anything crazy other than the FACT that you lied.  And I wasn’t even tripping now you spazzing on me.  If that’s what it has to be then so be it I guess.”

Enough texting.  He calls me.  I can’t get a word in.  He’s yelling me down.  Calling me a liar.  Pushing a narrative that I’m playing him.  More emphasis of what he’s previously said.  How can you defend yourself against a narrative that isn’t true.  It doesn’t matter what I say.  His mind is made up.  He cancels the trip.  The trip we are expected to depart to in less than 48 hours.  He cancels the trip and he hangs up in my face.

He ends the evening with this text: “ Yeah [I hung up on you] you blew me it just felt like a fishing for a reason moment and I’m cool on it.  You can either send the half or don’t the money spent already.  I done wasted my time, money, and effort and my PTO so you got it mamas  be blessed.”

After my last ditch effort of explaining reason, he replies:

“Yeah you took allat and put it on me and that wasn’t my thought process so I’m not going.  I didn’t think any of that but you conjured up that my hurt and feelings projected something onto you and that’s just absolutely false.  You want me to say sorry for some shit I didn’t do too.  Its good though.  I think you blew this whole thing up out of proportion after being caught hence the ‘oh I’m actually gagged’”

"If Johnny has three apples?"  We’re so close to a breakthrough, but yet so far away.  Everything you’re accusing me of, is actually what you are doing to me.  Someone play “Keyshia Cole’s “I Should Have Cheated” immediately, please! The next morning he texts me.  No typical “Good morning” or a compliment. No, instead I receive this:

“Half would be 227.63”

Oh, don’t you remember the days when he was a gentleman and didn’t expect me to pay for anything?  Or when he said I didn’t have to send the money because it was already spent?

We spend the next day, March 13th going back and forth.  He hangs up on me again during mid conversation.  He berates me.  He continues to push this false narrative on me.  I beg and plead and overexplain with paragraph upon paragraph about how I am willing to work with him through this entire misunderstanding.  He continues to only see red.

He sends various hurtful texts:

“I dodged a bullet.  Wish I woulda known before wasting the effort on you.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to dodge accountability.  Just know all the pseudo psychology antics don’t work around here.  If you wanna analyze anything, analyze yourself and learn from it going forward for whoever you end up with.”

“You’re such a faker.  I’m not dealing with the holier than thou especially when can’t hold yourself accountable.  Keep that good image up tho.”

He continues to ask me for the money.

He now begins the false narrative that I cancelled the trip.  The one with no purchasing power to cancel, yet I’ve cancelled the trip.  He now begins to say that I never wanted to go.  Despite the fact I had purchased games for us to get to know each other, and other things in anticipation of the trip.  I discussed the trip with friends.  I made plans for my puppy to be babysat.  Sure, twas I who didn’t want to attend the trip.

“You missed out on a genuine dude who was willing to do so much.”

“I’m over it.  I wasted my breath, my time, money and effort.  I’m good on it be blessed.”

“You want shit to be your way and your way only that’s the issue.”

More doubling down.  No resolve.  He blocks me. 

What?  What literally just happened?  I feel so mind fucked.

I talk it over with my friends.  They are confused.  They assure me that I’ve dodged a bullet. I talk it over on Instagram with a “story time.”  I post screenshots of our text messages.  My DM’s are flooded with numerous takes.  Women are fearful at many of the messages they read.  They are fearful at how his demeanor instantly changed when he was upset.  Many call him a textbook narcissist and gas lighter. 

  His pattern of responses in relation to past trauma and triggers are recognized by many.  The Middle Brother often called and texted me.  I never initiated contact, as a self induced boundary for me to keep my emotions in check.  He was often apologetic if he did not reach out on a particular day or if he called me in the midst of me doing something that I previously mentioned to him.  He appeared to be extremely considerate, but the moment he was upset with me, consideration for my words or emotions was not given.  He immediately became a version of himself that I never experienced, and frankly never wanted to.   

My Thoughts:

(1)This argument was a misunderstanding that could have been easily resolved.

(2) Our trip to Memphis could have continued if pride was let go.

(3) Past trauma can cause us to push away possibly beneficial relationships.

(4) If a man gets mean to you when he is mad—RUN, quickly.

(5) Listen to all flags.  Red flags don’t have to be your own indication to leave.

(6) Always work on your healing journey and prioritizing the care of your mental health.  If you do, it will also be easier to recognize when others’ mental states are off.

(7)  If you are still heavily triggered by something associated with romantic relationships (such as cheating) then maybe it is not your season to date.

(8) Women are allowed to be sexual, without negative connotations being attached to them.  Women can take sexual photos for their sole enjoyment.  Partners are not the only ones who enjoy or receive nude images of women.

(9) I hate when men get sassy.

(10) Remember who you are. Do not be defined or consumed by the opinions, false accusations or assumptions of others.

(11) Let them go.

I thought that this incident would be isolated, but little did I know it would trigger three more weird confrontations that would round out my week.

 _________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Instance #2: Fitness Sportswear (March 13, 2025)

Once upon a time, I became an AKA at my undergraduate institution.  My line number was 29.  Usually in Greek culture you can have close relationships with those who share the same line number as you amongst and within Greek organizations.

 I was familiar with the 29 of the Kappa line that crossed my year, we’ll call him Fitness Sportswear, because I had participated in “Shimmy Like A Nupe” on his team a few months before I crossed.  I’m not going to say we were best friends or even friends at all, but we were cordial.  I followed him on social media, that’s it. 

I’ll always remember though, while we were in college, recently after I crossed, he confided in me that I should make more of an effort to get to know one of my prophytes.  The 29 who crossed the year before me.  I remember that it felt odd that he was pushing me towards a woman who had shown no interest in me and honestly came off as a mean girl.  He said, as I remember it, I should basically make nice with this 29 so she could introduce me to the other 29s.  The family circle if you will.  A secret sect of the 29s who had crossed at our alma mater.  That thought felt odd to me then and still odd now.  Even at that age, I felt like the notion was from the making of a cult.  If I don’t put in the work to fulfill these unknown expectations of the gatekeeper (Big 29), I’ll forever be ostracized from the community that shares my line number?

I guess so.

I was instantly turned off.

The previous line’s 29 was no where to be found during my intake process.  I believe she was allegedly suspended or banned from initiation activities.  The bottom line is, she was no where to be found before I crossed.  The only thing that I knew of her was that she came off rude.  I was in a group message with her where I saw that she commented “Do we even have a 29? I haven’t heard from her.”  Shady, because you know the line has a 29.  Who are you? 

My expectations of Greek life were naive.  I thought that I would be joining a sisterhood that would embrace me with open arms.  Many did.  She did not.  So, I didn’t feel inclined to kiss her ass.  However, at this age, I was still young and impressionable.  I wanted to fit in.  I wanted to be fully embraced within my org, so I decided to play along.

I reached out to Big 29.  When I crossed, I remember dedicating an Instagram post to a friend who helped guide me through my application process and was truly a sister to me on campus when I entered and wanted to join the organization.  I loved her.  I still do.  Within the post, I expressed my love and gratitude to her. I also called her my SPEC.  A term that I knew to mean: a trusted person within the organization you aspire to be apart of who helps you along your journey of becoming a member.  That’s what she did, so that’s who she was to me.

When I reached out to Big 29, she said I had to immediately delete the portion about my friend being my SPEC, or I couldn’t have a relationship with her.  No “welcome to the sisterhood!”. No “do you need anything?” No “how are you?”  Just: delete that caption that was about HER line sister with no regard for how that may negatively affect the relationship of a positive and beneficial relationship for me.  But I give her the grace that we were young. 

I remember instantly being cold to her.  My friend actually had been there for me.  With Big 29 it seemed like a disrespectful and childish climb to sisterhood.  Not the org I signed up for. But again, this is me at 19/20 with two years of college left.  I called my friend, I told her I didn’t want to alter my post, but she suggested that I do so to avoid conflict.  I erased the portion.  The me of modern day, would never do that. Take me as I am, or you are no sister to me.

I believe Big 29 and I hung out a few times, it could have been less.  I will say, I think she tried to make an effort, but if our schedules didn’t align, I believe she took that as me not making an effort.  I had an adverse reaction to the nature of our relationship, essentially I knew, even at that age, I wasn’t going to kiss her ass for acceptance and she was not a reflection of a Prophyte that I aspired to be.  Our relationship fizzled.  She unfollowed me on Instagram.  Her husband did too.  We haven’t spoken since college.  She had a closer relationship to one of my neos.  That hurt, but ultimately I knew I was in the right.  I was never introduced to the lineage of 29s.

As a prophyte now, I try to follow my neos on social media, to keep up with their lives.  I try to congratulate them all.  I try to express that they have a sister in me.  I don’t want any incoming member to feel ostracized, not wanted or welcomed.  I have aspirations of being a Graduate Advisor one day.  I want to make the initiation and the matriculation of new Sorors a positive one, that reflects nothing like the circumstances I endured.   That unwelcoming feeling and interactions of my college Greek years, propel me today to be a better sister.

As years have passed, I hope Big 29 has grown out of a mean girl mindset and is a welcoming sister.  I hope there is a growth lesson here.  I don’t fault her for having the mindset of a newly Greek college student at that time with the expectations of Greekdom, but I do hope she does not hold the same sentiments today.  I hope she is financial, active within a Graduate chapter and committed to service. I don’t fault Fitness Sportswear for giving me the piece of advise he did at that time. Though it bothered me at the time, I hope he too has grown out of the unnecessary chutes and ladders of Greek life that can lead to the ostracization of others and doesn’t signify brotherhood or sisterhood. 

I hope that he has grown, because it seems his moral compass is still a bit off, even today.

Fast forward to modern times.  Fitness Sportwear has expressed romantic interest in me multiple times in my DMs on Instagram.  I didn’t pay it much attention, because I didn’t take it seriously.  I was under the pressures of law school, we didn’t live in the same area, dating or talking wasn’t a priority at the time.  I did find it strange however that he went from expressing interest in my DMs to then becoming one man out of over 200 others to side with The Middle Brother.  After I posted my story time about the Middle Brother, with pictures of our text messages, Fitness Sportswear DM’ed me this: “I can’t cap love. You were in the wrong.  He’s not wrong for feeling how he feels on this one.  Your intentions were right, but the impact went left.”

Let’s sum that up.  The Middle Brother wasn’t wrong for feeling how he does.  A Black man wasn’t wrong for calling a Black woman a liar unprovoked with no evidence that she was a liar.  Call Black woman names? Got it. A man can impose a false narrative on a woman and that is correct behavior? Got it.  A man can repeatedly ask for nudes,  but once an intimate photo is shared, it must be up to the man’s expectations and that isn’t wrong? Got it. A man can ask for money for a trip that he cancelled, based on an argument he started and that is correct behavior? That’s gentleman behavior that YOU can stand by? Got it. Men can hang up on women and belittle them and that’s supported behavior? Got it. 

Such a great representation of a man. And that’s who he chose to stand by unprovoked. 

Could have scrolled, but no.  “I’ve previously pursued this woman, now let me humble her”.  Got it.  I also found it strange that even if that was his horrible opinion, why did he feel the need to express it me? What did he gain?  What stake did he have in the scenario to make his sentiments known?  I’m not inside his head, but I did find it curious that when an opportunity to provide compassion to someone you’ve expressed interest in presented itself, instead of doing so,  you turned it into a dog pile moment that on its face only had one correct answer. That was not yours.

Allegedly, Fitness Sportswear had a history of cheating in college.  If that allegation is true, I can see how the past trauma of cheating can lead him to find identity with another who has been cheated on.  Though they are different sides of the same coin, the mindset operates the same.  I can see how that would lead him to believe that the immediate response to a woman’s actions are that she can only be cheating.

Have you ever heard the Keyshia Cole song, “I Should Have Cheated?”  In the song, Keyshia’s man constantly accuses her of cheating.  She isn’t, but he feels paranoid because he knows he is the actual one cheating.

If Fitness Sportswear has an alleged past of cheating and he sees a scenario where a man is going off about cheating, I can instantly grasp where his source of relation is coming from.  Why? Because I have emotional intelligence.  I am self-aware and I can notice triggers.  I can think from more than one viewpoint.

Take those qualities away, and I can see how he listened to my entire story time and read the texts and immediately deduced that someone flying off the handle, disrespecting a woman, and exhibiting responses that could lead to physical abuse as a manifestation, etc., I could see how he immediately sided with him. He’s operating from a place of zero emotional intelligence, or there could be a reading comprehension issue.  The schools are dying.

It’s embarrassing, when you have letters on your chest that should promote the advancement of mental health within the community and protection of women, but no, being the only one to boldly say something ignorant and the only one to express their objection was a much better stance to take. 

Women were literally DM’ing me that The Middle Brother’s texts made them feel fearful & this man of Kappa Alpha Psi said The Middle Brother wasn’t wrong. Putting women in fear were justifiable actions to him. Literal rocks rattling in his head instead of a brain. Siri play “If I Only Had A Brain” by Ray Bolger & Judy Garland.

Don’t you love when men tell on themselves. When they reveal they are actually dumb and bad men who women should be cautious of? I love it.

I hope he grows and I hope someone holds him accountable for his horrible take.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

Instance #3: The Alpha Theta Guardian Warrior Final Boss (March 14, 2025)

Once upon a time, I knew I could press someone’s buttons.  “Kids do you want to see a magic trick?”, if you will.

Have you ever seen Friday, the movie?  Remember the line: “I got mind control over Deebo?”

Here’s a little story about my mind control over the Alpha Theta Guardian Warrior Final Boss.  The last time, I mentioned him in a blog in a few sentences, he was geeked.  Here’s a whole section for you babe, in my “diary.”

Remember “The Banker” blog?  I mentioned his line brother.  The one who could go off to war because a good thought never entered his mind? Yeah, him.  He read it. Instantly geeked.  Tweeted about it several times.  He was my one man blog promoter the day it dropped. 

Mind you, the line they are from crossed while I was still in high school, so they are older. (Think NeNe Leakes and Phaedra Parks: “No we didn’t go to high school together, because she’s older than me.”)  A new side of Twitter was unlocked for me when that blog dropped.

Usually the readers of “Your Curlfriend” are from connections my age, near my age or people who I have interacted with within the matriculation of my studies (grade school through higher education).  This new side of Twitter was comprised of more so the crowd, The Banker and The Alpha Theta Guardian Warrior Final Boss attended school with. 

How did “Your Curlfriend” get over there? The Banker wasn’t promoting the blog.  Why would he? 

But who is likely to spread a narrative painting his line brother in a negative light for kicks and giggles?  Surely it isn’t a man with profound thoughts.  But maybe a professional troll and someone with horrible takes would. 

Now, I’m not sure how “Your Curlfriend” falls into the hands of her readers.  There are a plethora of ways that information spreads, but I saw people interacting with his direct tweets about the blog, so I concluded, he introduced some on to the blog. 

I even told The Banker that.  He called me when it was published.  He said it was spreading to many who knew him.  “I don’t really know that many people who know you, but your line brother has been raving about it online, you don’t think that would be promoting it?”, I asked. From that scenario, I deduced that the Alpha Theta Guardian Warrior Final Boss could be easily peaked.

Join us in modern times.  Let’s explore the mindset of my latest tweet.  I recently tweeted: “Alpha Theta niggas never have a good take on anything.”

Why?  (1) It was a generalization, clearly I have not probed the minds of every member to come from a chapter that was charted many years before I was born. (2) Its Twitter.  Nothing’s real.  Most things are a generalization, that meme where the guy is ranting in a microphone to an empty audience is a manifestation of how the app is used, I can tweet: The sky is orange—why? Because its Twitter, (3) I was 3/3 on some members with actual bad takes on things: a. Fitness Sportswear and his take on nudes, women and the lack of mental health accountability for black men, b. The death of Caleb Wilson has sparked nationwide criticism of Greek organizations.  Many have been valid.  Instead of acknowledging correct constructive criticism or staying silent and scrolling altogether, a member tweeted along the lines that many GDIs bash Greeks because they couldn’t become members of the organizations. A horrible tone death comment in the midst of a tragedy followed with valid criticism.  Being quiet is always a choice.  I’ve also never liked the term GDIs.  God Damn Individuals—but many wonder why Greek organizations are viewed as cults.  When in reality, aren’t these the God Damn Individuals our mission statements tell us to serve?  Aren’t those who are not Greek, the majority we serve?  Non-Greeks can criticize Greeks.  They should.  Just like politicians should be criticized by their constituents.  No one is above constructive criticism.  If more Non-Greeks held Greeks accountable, maybe there would be a culture shift all together.  But then again, service hasn’t been found by many after degrees were received or unless it’s an organized homecoming event. c. The Alpha Theta Guardian Warrior Final Boss who again wouldn’t know a good take if it hit him in the face.

So, I tweeted it.  And after it was sent, I immediately knew I would soon find someone in my mentions.  Could you take a guess who?

He’s been muted for years.  I don’t like his content, therefore, I don’t engage.  Let’s repeat that, and let’s not let this message go over our heads.  I don’t like his content, therefore, I don’t engage.  I don’t see his content.  In “The Banker” blog scenario, he DM’ed me about the blog and I went to his page to see if he tweeted about it. Of course he did—several times.

He engaged with content he didn’t like. You could have just sat there and ate your food. 

He responded : “ahhh stfu”

I’m thinking it’s playful, but I’m also serious.  I respond: “Nigga block me.” 

Because if you don’t like the content? Don’t engage. 

He responded: “Alpha Theta (In Greek letters) biggest fan apparently. Go touch some grass.”

See how I said he wouldn’t know good sense if it hit him?”

So, I respond: “Says the nigga crashing out at the mention. Like I said block me. Or continue scrolling or trade mark the name and send me a cease and desist.”

Because who are you talking to? Get a grip. 

Here, (1) you inserted yourself in something that you could have easily scrolled by, (2) the mention of your chapter name shouldn’t trigger you. If I see someone tweet about Alpha Psi, more power to them.  That doesn’t directly affect me at all, and it shouldn’t affect you either.  We don’t even know each other. So since he wants to take up the service of defending the mention of his chapter to the end of his days, we have dubbed him The Alpha Theta Guardian Warrior Final Boss.  I hope you hold this same devotion to your Graduate Chapter through finances, chapter involvement and service.  And since your dedication to your beloved chapter has clearly extended far beyond your graduation year, I hope you were financial and active from initiation until now.  Thanks for your service. 

A few months ago, he was geeked to be known for bad takes, but when the chapter is mentioned suddenly that’s too far? There’s a thesis within that notion within itself. 

What’s the message here?  I’ve preached this for years: If you don’t like the content, don’t engage.  He had a crash out moment over something that did not involve him and it’s a situation that he doesn’t have the criteria to change.  I can say Alpha Theta as many times as I want and though he may be upset, unfortunately for him, the world will still turn.  So it was intentionally mentioned several times within this section, because it can be.

Another message? Oh if you’re blatantly weird or disrespectful, I’m entitled to offer a rebuttal. Growth moment? I could have blocked him before giving a response, sure.  But he was geeked, then he was randomly mad…..why was he being weird to me? So, I said something.  Then I blocked him.  Oh well, like I said, the world still turns.

P.S.  If you say “Alpha Theta” three times in your mirror with the lights off, The Alpha Theta Guardian Warrior Final Boss will appear and attack.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Instance #4: My Former Friends (March 15, 2025)

Once upon a time, before law school, I was a MBA student working for the Tennessee Department of Children’s Services (DCS).  I became close friends with a coworker.  We both graduated from the same alma mater.  Though we attended the same undergraduate institution, we were familiar with one another, but not friends during that time.  DCS was a social experiment of trauma imposed on those working there.  In other words, the case load was so excessive and the work expectations were so great that the conditions would literally deteriorate your mental state. 

I made several friends there through thick trauma bonds and found a friend in her. We were close.  She and her boyfriend at the time were welcomed into my childhood home.  I was often over her home after work.  I broke down to her the day my Grandma died.  We rallied together for change at DCS.  She visited my home when I was in law school.  Her boyfriend asked for my help in planning her proposal.  I truly thought of her as a genuine friend.

After we both departed from DCS, I ventured off to law school and moved from the city.  During one visit back to the mutual city, I was having a conversation with her on the phone.  She told me that one of her boyfriend’s exes was obsessed with her because she was always the first person to watch her story.  As someone chronically online and constantly clicking through stories, I knew that there was a huge possibility that I was among one of the first to watch people’s stories.  So initially at the statement, I felt that it may have been far-fetched.  I was a mutual follower of the ex.  We had a nice report. We were both on fitness journeys and were often voices of encouragement to each other.  I always thought she was kind.  During my visit, she asked that we go workout together.  I wasn’t opposed to the idea and made it a planned gym date. 

At the time I was on the phone with my friend, I disclosed that I had a workout date with our topic of conversation.  I never knew her to be my friend’s boyfriend’s ex or that they had a bad history.  The date was also planned before the phone call.  After she learned that I intended to attend the date, she gave me an ultimatum.  We would no longer be friends if I didn’t unfollow the young lady and cancel our plans to workout.  She was under the belief that the workout date was a strategically planned espionage for the ex to gather information about my friend. 

I was confused. 

I’m all for ending relationships when something at a standard so severe has been done to my friend that any continued involvement with the responsible party would not be loyal or would be so blatantly disrespectful to my friend that we shouldn’t be considered friends anymore.

Mouthful.  Simplified: If you fuck over my friend, its fuck you.  But you must fuck over my friend.    

Also, as a good friend, I should be able to introduce to you the notion that you may be operating from a space that is removed from reality.  And hopefully as a friend, you should be willing to accept that or at the minimum acknowledge that, disagree and we talk it out.

Here (law school gag), if my friend felt stalked or uncomfortable with the ex viewing her story, she could have unfollowed her, blocked her, or hid her story.  Out of sight, out of mind.

If she felt that the ex was only taking an interest in me to gather information on her, two things could have occurred. (1) (law school gag) She could have inquired about what we discussed during the date.  I would have told her.  At this point, I had been friends with her for years.  On the other hand, this was a nice young lady, but she was practically a stranger.  If she said anything about my friend, I would tell my friend. (2) She should have had faith within me to know that if she was ever discussed, as her friend, I wouldn’t have allowed that conversation to continue out of respect, privacy and just overall friendship.   

So, while knowing this, I told her that I would not be unfollowing the young lady or cancelling our plans.  I also don’t believe friends should be telling their friends what to do.  We’re all grown.  I rather you make your move and we either address it or I make a decision based on my feelings, but I won’t be telling you what to do.  I knew she was being irrational or paranoid.  I tried to talk to her. 

Again, instead of hearing me out, she let past emotions, triggers, and or ego lead her to decide that the friendship was over.  Within seconds I was blocked on all social media sites, calls and texts and her boyfriend had blocked me on all the same channels as well. 

For a while I thought she may realize that she overreacted, or her boyfriend may have tried to reason with her or rationalize the true magnitude of the situation.  Neither occurred.  Our years as friends turned into years of distance and silence. 

Fast forward to modern day.  I attend the baby shower of my line sister.  I walk in, sit down my gift, say my hellos and proceed to my mission: the buffet line. Let’s be honest, the meatballs are an incentive of attending.  Low and behold, who is in front of me in line, my ex friend and her now husband.  Silent. 

Really?  This has gone on for how many years?  Mind you, many former students of my alma mater are attending this baby shower.  I greeted them all.  They all greeted me.  We were cordial.  We were grown. 

Did I expect us (me and my former friends) to hug, dance around, cry, and catch up on all of the accomplishments and pitfalls that have become of our lives in the past few years?  No.  Did I expect a simple hey, head nod, wink or signal of acknowledgment? Well, I’ve gotten that from people who actually deserve to be spat on.  Some relationships deserve permanent distance.  However, I believe those should be rare.  For the most part, I’m able to remain cordial after a fall out, if there was history in our past relationship.  Maintaining a persona of hatred or putting on the silent treatment act in a space of happiness is too heavy of an emotion and burden for me to carry.  I can’t with the drama.  It’s the biggest gripe I have with several from my alma mater.

In a perfect world, we all graduated from a historically Black institution.  Many of us joined organizations dedicated to service.  We are the pillars of Black excellence.  We hold ourselves to a higher standard.  We promote and participate in personal growth.  We’re grown.

So, when we see someone from that similar background who we endured with, or simply for the fact we are good people, we acknowledge one another and keep it pushing. We don’t treat people like empty space, when we were in the wrong for the deterioration of the relationship.

But, we don’t live in perfect world. 

I later found out that allegedly, my former friend had disclosed that she wanted to (1) beat me up, (2) beat my ass, or (3) something to that variation.  All still very much a threat. I’m not sure when within the timeline of our relationship, this statement was allegedly made.

My ass wasn’t beat at the baby shower.  If the statement was made, kudos for that growth.  However if it was: (1) that’s insane and delusional considering the circumstances that led to our friendship breakup (2) that’s hurtful to imagine coming from someone I truly looked at as a friend, and (3) if she ever touches me, I hate the police, but that will be the quickest 911 battery and assault phone call you will ever hear called.  And I will drag that scenario to hell fighting for criminal charges. 

After my former friends did not speak or acknowledge my presence, I noticed they were sitting at a table with my bond sister.  I contemplated not going near them to avoid their negative energy, but I wasn’t going to be blatantly rude to a sister I actually cared for. 

After I made my plate at the buffet, I made way over to their table.  I hugged and greeted my bond sister and her guests.  I also made it a point to exclaim out loud, “It would have been so rude of me to not speak to you”, when addressing my bond sister.  The statement was made purposefully in ear shot of both former friends.  A smidge of petty, but all truth.  If I attend an event and I see someone I know, I’m going to speak, I’ll leave the antics to everyone else. 

So yeah, chaos continues to find me.

I hope both her and her husband heal from anything plaguing them.  I hope I heal from my hope that any reconciliation or acknowledgment of fault will ever come, but for yall’s actions and if that statement was ever said fuck yall too.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Reflections and Final Thoughts:

The lessons & intentions of this piece are:

1.     When people show you who they are, believe them- the first time.

2.     Heal. Lack of healing leads to volatile relationships with others who may actually have your best interests at heart.

3.     Let go of pride and ego.  They can and will hold you back from growth.

4.     Be open to growth.

5.     Take whatever you found in humor and embrace it.  Many things were included to make you laugh.

I’ve come to the conclusion, that no matter how plain the language is or how transparent the message is, it will always be misconstrued into a narrative that wasn’t intentional of the author. I no longer hold myself or my mental slave to defending how the message should be received. As always to those who support me & see value in the messages, you are the “why” of Your Curlfriend. To those who chose to be blatantly dense & miss the message, one day I truly hope you will stop reading & engaging all together. The art isn’t for you. I release you. You are not welcome here. 

I release myself from the depression caused by feeling the need to over explain myself. Simply put, fuck off if the message doesn’t resonate with you. Simple. 

I know who I am. I stand by & honor every decision & lesson that has shaped the life I live. I’m not meant to be everyone’s cup of tea. 

I am champagne. 

To The Middle Brother, I truly hope you heal. Not only for you, but for the sake of your son.

To everyone else, fuck yall.

Can you believe all these instances occurred within one week???? (College shenanigans aside)

-YC

Grow and Glow.