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I Have Become The Woman I Said I Would NEVER Be!!

30 Mar

depressed
I promised myself I would never be “that” woman.

And today I am her.

Yesterday was a bad day. I was in a car accident, thankfully nobody was hurt. I guess my nerves got the best of me. I should have been paying attention to the road but instead I was thinking about the “other” women. The woman I found out about a month ago came to mind, followed by woman #2 and woman #3 who I discovered in the past three days.
When I returned home I was already distraught. My boyfriend was packing for a mini trip he told me about the night before, but little did he know what I knew.

“Do you want me to take you to the airport,” I asked?
“No, meeting my mother for lunch,” he replied.
“Want me to get you my carryon bag,” I said as he was picking out clothes from the closet?
“Yes, that would be great,” he responded.
I went to the laundry room, grabbed my carryon bag and handed it to him.
“Thanks sweetie,” he said as he was folding his clothes about to put it in the suitcase.

I started to walk away when I stopped. It disgusted me that he was wearing the button down shirt I hated the most. The shirt I had ironed the day he cheated on me with woman #1. I sighed in exhaustion, turned around and said:
“Oh baby, when you get to Washington D.C. tell Susan that’s my suitcase.”

I walked out the door with the shocked look on his face still in mind.

Then four hours later my nerves got the best of me yet again. This time I was walking and paid no attention to the car coming at towards me. Sorry but I couldn’t help but think he was with “her” at that moment. That’s when I was hit by the car, but thankfully not seriously injured.

You see, I’m not ENTIRELY stupid.
Friends and family told me to leave him after the first woman, but I didn’t. Instead I gave him a second chance. It was hard and more problems evolved. Then when I found out about women 2 and 3 I started to plan my escape.
It wasn’t until yesterday morning when I woke up, wide awake when I had a brilliant idea.

My boyfriend was still asleep when I grabbed his phone from the night table. Despite everything, I NEVER went through his phone. Shortly after I became lightheaded and dizzy.
I shouldn’t of been shocked but I was. There were even MORE women, not including the woman he had been talking to from the internet and was flying to meet yesterday for the first time. I couldn’t help but ask myself:

“How many more women are there?”

I am hurt, shaking, confused, disgusted and angry. BUT I still have my pride and dignity. That’s two things he didn’t take away from me.

Now going forward, when “that” woman enters my life, the woman I ridiculed for staying with the cheater, the woman I gave a dumbfounded look at when she said she wasn’t leaving the cheater, I will now smile, take her hand into mine and love her. That’s when I will tell my story and make a new friend.

Unexpected Betrayal

18 Mar

couple-arguing
I just woke up. Three hours sleep in the past two days is actually really good given what I discovered and the emotional roller-coaster I rode and still continue to ride.
I rubbed my head, it was pounding. My eyes hurt, they were puffy from crying. I cleared my throat, it was scratched and hoarse from all the yelling. More importantly, my heart….my heart….well….I don’t think I no longer have one as it’s now shattered.
I glanced around the apartment. There was glass everywhere and sentimental objects of mine were now broken, but I didn’t care. On the surface one might think the apartment which my boyfriend and I shared was ransacked and robbed. I only wish that was the reason for the disorder.
I glanced at my phone. I had received many texts from friends asking:
“Priscilla, I am worried. Are you okay?”
I appreciated their concern but it was now a topic I no longer wanted to discuss or think about. I now pleaded the heartbreaking flashbacks from the past two days would only disappear. I shook my head still in disbelief and shock despite the proof that proved otherwise. I laid my head back on my pillow, repositioned my back on the uncomfortable couch that I recently made my new bed and draped the blanket around my shivering body for comfort pretending it was a friend holding me to reassure everything would be okay.
My mind was still clouded by all the questions and emotions that I still pondered. I could ask myself again and again the questions I wanted answers to such as:
How?
Or
Why?
But instead of trying to make reasoning of everything, I had to face the truth…. and the facts.
I had to ask myself, “Priscilla what are you going to do?”
I didn’t yet have an answer. I still wasn’t thinking clearly. I pulled the blanket over my face, closed my eyes when the first tear fell, then another and another.
Now I know how it feels. So….. this is what it feels like when the one you love betrays you.
************
My boyfriend and I just finished hanging a heavy mirror in the entryway I brought two months ago when I moved in to “his” but now “our” residence. When I saw it hung steadily on the wall, I sighed and finally felt at home. We were both exhausted and hungry so we began to prepare dinner.
We were in the kitchen preparing fresh vegetables when my phone lit up, it was a text from my cousin. I responded when my boyfriend said “Stop texting your other boyfriends,” a phrase he used at least once a day. I laughed as usual and shook my head as we proceeded to cook.
He was frying meat and I was chopping lettuce for our taco dinner with our Maltese , Abby, (the new addition to “our” family) who was lurking at our feet searching for scraps when my boyfriend said:
“I meant to tell you the other day, my friend Kristen is best friends with your friend Tucker. What a small world,” he said with a chuckle.
“Who’s Kristen? Do I know her,” I asked casually?
“Don’t think so. It’s a chic I met on the dating site we met on. We went out once but NEVER slept together,” he said in addition to mentioning they were Facebook friends.
I was curious if I knew her since we had a mutual friend who I hadn’t talked to in six months. I pulled up my boyfriend’s friend list on Facebook and asked:
“Which one is she,” as there were four Kristen’s in his friend list?
He pointed to a specific woman with a profile picture of a landscape.
According to the picture and limited information on her page I couldn’t confirm if I knew her so I clicked the “add friend” button. I disregarded my phone on the counter and returned to my boyfriend to help cook dinner. A few minutes later my phone lit up and at a glance I noticed it was a notification she had accepted my friend request.
I skipped looking at her pictures and immediately started to message her when the messenger window revealed she was already typing to send me a message. I continued to type when I received her first message:
“You need to talk to your man, not me!”
I was a little taken back by this comment but didn’t read anything into it. Instead I replied:
“I did, Chris told me you guys met from the site and your best friends with my friend Tucker. I was wondering if I knew you,” giving a smiley face symbol at the end.
I put my phone back on the counter to finish chopping lettuce when she replied:
“Why did you send me a friend request?”
I felt slightly attacked and was unsure why. My boyfriend was beside me stirring meat with his ears plugged with ear phones listening to music when I wiped my hands, picked up my phone and said:
“If you’re a friend of Chris and Tucker then you’re a friend of mine.”
Seconds later she sent the following message:
“Again, why did you send me a friend request?”
I was still slightly confused. Why did I feel like I’m being interrogated?
I repeated my previous message to her question but this time I added:
“I didn’t think it would be a big deal. If you don’t want me as your Facebook friend then unfriend me. Sorry for the bother.”
I laid my phone yet again on the counter about to walk to the refrigerator when she wrote back:
“Want to do lunch?”
What, I thought?
Now I started to have serious doubts about this woman. I scrolled up to reread the series of texts wondering if this woman was bipolar when I replied:
“I guess but I’m a little hesitant now lol.”
She quickly replied:
“There’s a lot you don’t know. Call me, Chris has my number.”
Instantly I knew I wasn’t going to ask Chris for her number as he would ask a lot of questions, questions that I didn’t know so instead I replied:
“He’s dozing off and not going to wake him,” I said lying. I ended the message with supplying her with my number.
Moments later she messaged:
“Chris just texted me.”
She gave her number and insisted I call. I announced I would after dinner.
For the next twenty minutes I was antsy and curious as I wondered if something had happened to our friend Tucker. I excused myself from my boyfriend and went to our sunroom to smoke when I pressed the send button on my phone to call the woman I had not yet met.
When she answered I couldn’t help but notice her tone of voice wasn’t as perky as mine and it sounded as if she had something serious to say, so I remained quiet and listened. There were several pauses in her voice before she proceeded to say:
“I don’t know how to tell you this.” It was then I learned when someone starts a conversation with this sentence it’s never good.
My eyes started to burn, the only thing that came to mind was Tucker had passed being the last time we spoke was when he learned he had cancer. I listened to her stumbling again when she told me what I had LEAST expected to hear. The more I heard the less I could see, followed by loss of hearing and an overwhelming numbness throughout my body. Finally she concluded with specific details, followed by sending me picture texts and a recording that supported her accusations.
I heard enough. I saw enough. I then entered a state of shock. She was still talking when I interrupted her and said:
“Let me leave and I will call you back.”
I pressed the end button on my phone before I waited for her to reply. I walked back into the apartment where my boyfriend was sitting on the couch watching TV. I went into the bedroom and grabbed my purse with one arm and scooped our dog in the other. Thankfully my car keys were visible on the dining room table instead of me searching for them as usual. I had no plan other than to quietly leave and not say a word. I knew if I opened my mouth I wouldn’t be able to control what I might say and thereafter. I was three-fourths from the front door when my boyfriend asked:
“Where are you going?”
Calmly, I turned around, looked my boyfriend in the eye trying to fight back tears when I said:
“Kristen told me everything. Don’t deny it, she showed me all the proof.”
I had no expectations as to how he would or should react, but this was the moment my heart shattered.
You see, he underestimated how well I knew and understood him including the meaning of all his facial expressions, laughs and awkward silence. It was at that moment, he didn’t have much to say, and in fact he was speechless. He didn’t have to explain, his face said it all. He was guilty. It was a look I will never forget and still haunts me to this day. I started to feel faintish when I excused myself from his presence and continued to walk towards the front door as I originally planned.
I knew I exited the gates of hell when the door slammed behind me broadcasting a loud echo throughout the hall but I didn’t take another step. I turned around, reentered the apartment, laid my purse on the foyer table, carefully placed my dog on the kitchen floor and charged towards my boyfriend who was still sitting on the couch.
This was when I blacked out.
I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure I said something like:
“You fucking cheating asshole. You bastard, I hate you and hope you go to hell.”
I don’t remember if he responded or the following order of events. It was then when I remembered grabbing my first object, the granite stone statue my father gave me when I was five-years old. It shattered when it flew across the room hitting our apartment window leaving a large crack. Next was the picture of my grandmother and me, taken just before she died. The window now had another but larger crack. I continued to throw candle holders, vases, bottles of wine, anything that was breakable and would break that fucking window.
I was on a mission.
Finally the academic award I received in college went flying. It hit the window, glass shattered and it bounced back two feet from where I was standing. I paused when a gust of wind and showered the apartment not noticing my right hand was covered in blood. (It’s not good when you live on the 31 floor on the corner of a skyscraper and your walls are all windows from ceiling to floor)
I took a deep breathe when I realized I was the big bad wolf who huffed and puffed and almost blew the apartment down and would have had I not taken a moment to breathe. I was shocked by my reaction and I’m sure my boyfriend was just as shocked from what he too just witnessed.
I continued to scream at him before charging again to the front door slamming it shut to call the “woman” he obviously wanted to be with. To avoid waking up neighbors and preventing my boyfriend from easderopping, I escaped to the stairway. I sat at the top of the stairs and called the woman who should be my enemy but was now my friend. We talked for the next hour, the more questions I asked and answers I received, the more things started to make sense. My phone began to beep that the battery was low so I ended the conversation with a promise to call the following morning.
I decided to retire from the stairway and turned the knob when I realized it was locked. I had never entered the stairway so I was unaware I needed my key fob to exit. I started to call my boyfriend to rescue me but no answer. For the next ten minutes I walked down 13 flights of stairs when I saw a door that was slightly open which was my sigh of relief for an exit. I approached the elevator, the doors opened, I entered and the doors closed behind me. I pressed the button to the 31st floor when I realized I didn’t have my fob to travel back up to my apartment. (We live in a very tight security building which contains three different keys for different access and I didn’t have any of them) I pressed the button pointing in opposite directions to open the elevator doors….. but they didn’t open.
It was 2:30AM Wednesday morning and the chances of a neighbor entering the elevator to leave or return home was very unlikely. Needless to say my only option was to press the red “Help” button on the elevator.
“Are you in trouble,” the operator asked?
“Yes the elevator won’t open,” I proclaimed.
For the next fifteen minutes I followed the operator’s instructions in hopes for the doors to open but no work.
“I am sending the police and fire department your way.”
I sighed heavily. I plopped on the elevator floor and rested my back against the doors. I grabbed my phone from my pocket which revealed three percent of battery.
I hesitated before I re-examined the evidence. It was hard but I persevered. I wanted to make sure my eyes were NOT playing tricks on me, but they weren’t as I hoped they were. The first picture text revealed itself.

IMG_5511

I sighed.
I scrolled to the second.

IMG_4787

My eyes began to water. I scrolled to the third.

IMG_1303

I closed my eyes when the first tear fell yet again.

I closed my eyes and shifted my thoughts back to earlier that day.
“I have a headache,” my boyfriend proclaimed to the sexual advances I was initiating, not including his distant behavior which shortly followed. I was aware he had a meeting with distributor at noon which was not unusual. However, I found it odd he got ready an hour before his so-called “meeting” when he usually waits till the last minute to dress. I now know his “distributor” was her. I couldn’t get her words out of my mind.
“We met for lunch today, that’s when he confessed he had a girlfriend.
“Damn Priscilla, what a fool you are. You couldn’t see the signs,” I asked myself?
Truth is now looking back, I still don’t think I would have…..he mastered the art of manipulation.
I glanced back at my phone to listen to the recording from their date earlier that day when my phone begun to power off. However, I remember the conversation percisely. Phrases such as:
“I don’t like her.”
and
“It will not last.”
and
“I don’t love her.”
It kept replaying in my mind as a broken tape recorder. What excuse does he have I thought?
It was then I really needed a tissue but my shirt was a substitute.
At the time I had nothing more to do but cry and think before I would be rescued. As a result I had plenty of time to ponder on what I would do next, but I was still confused despite the evidence that was very clear.
Then my thought process started to shift. What would I tell my best friend who would me the same story seeking advice?
Well….that was easy. I would give her a dumbfounded look if she even made an excuse to stay with such an asshole. And there I was….that woman who would be an idiot to those around her if she even considered staying.
I didn’t, nor do I want to be that woman.
The elevator doors opened. Police and fire personnel were standing before me. For a moment I thought about asking if they could rescue me from a broken heart. I was escorted to the floor of my apartment when I personally thanked the firefighter for his help when the elevator doors closed. I cautiously walked back to my apartment.
I briefly hesitated before turning the knob to my front door.
‘Priscilla, you have a huge decision to make,” I told myself.
I entered my apartment and the front door slammed behind me leaving another echo throughout the hallway.
The question is…..am I going to be “that” woman who accepts forgiveness OR will I be brave and persevere for a greater and brighter future?

Internet Harassment is a CRIME

14 Jul

I was advised by my attorney and law enforcement to make the following post.

It appears as though you “hater’s” are slightly ignorant, in more ways than one since some of you continue to bury yourselves in a deeper hole by lacking the knowledge, and meaning of the word “harassment.” I would like educate you trolls about the laws associated with “Internet Harassment.”

Keep n mind, I am only trying th “help” you, NOT “hurt” you! (That’s right, I couldn’t nor would I do or say to someone what you have done and said to me. In addition, there is no such thing as internet/blogging laws on improper use of grammar.)

I was given the following link from the police station yesterday morning. I copied and pasted the link below into this post.

http://www.wisegeek.com/what-are-internet-harassment-laws.htm

Internet harassment laws make it a criminal act to use the Internet to threaten, torment, stalk, intimidate or otherwise distress a person.  Legislation and enforcement varies from one jurisdiction to another, but Internet harassment laws are put in place to protect potential victims from the trauma of cyberstalking, cyberbullying and other forms of internet harassment.  In some regions, provisions have been made within broader harassment laws specifically relating to the Internet and other forms of communication.

Legal definitions of Internet harassment vary slightly from one region to another, but most jurisdictions agree on the basic principles.  Internet harassment is an attempt to use email or another form of electronic communication to torment, threaten, stalk or perform some similar act that would cause distress to a reasonable person.  When determining the difference between simple rudeness and criminal harassment, authorities are likely to consider issues such as the attacker’s apparent intent, the frequency of the remarks or postings, evidence of premeditation or information gathering,  whether others were encouraged to participate in these acts and whether remarks or attacks were directed specifically at the victim. 

For those found guilty, the penalties for violating Internet harassment laws depend on the severity of the attacks and the jurisdiction.  Harassment convictions can result in fines, community service or a prison sentence.  If the victim made previous attempts to make the attacker stop, or if the attacker engaged in other illegal activities such as hacking to harass the victim, sentencing is likely to be harsher.

 

 

Before 1990, there was little that could be done legally to deter harassment in any form, whether through the new internet, over the phone, or even in person.  California was the first state in the United States to pass anti-stalking legislation, with other states passing similar laws in the following years.  These laws, written long before the days of text messaging and social media websites, were designed primarily to prevent predatory stalking.

In 1996, the U.S. Congress passed the Communications Decency Act.  This act, originally written to protect the public from harassing phone calls, was rephrased to include any telecommunications device.  Although some other clauses of this act were found unconstitutional because of an infringement of free speech, the articles on Internet harassment were not challenged.

Even with the Communications Decency Act, most anti-harassment legislation is done at the state level. California was first to address cyberstalking in 1999, and many other states have passed specific Internet harassment laws.  Still others have made provisions in existing anti-harassment laws to deal with Internet communications.

Other countries have passed Internet harassment laws as well.  For instance, the British Parliament passed the Malicious Communications Act in 1998.   International cooperation has been effective in addressing other forms of Internet-based crime, but issues surrounding jurisdiction remain problematic with the Internet, because even the way the crime is defined by various Internet harassment laws can vary greatly.

I REST MY CASE!

 

Make me CUM….AGAIN

20 Jun

Today I was in a meeting behind closed doors. We were discussing future financial and budget predictions when I became quite antsy. I shifted my weight and crossed my legs from one side to the other.

It was getting hot, I took off my suit jacket.

I heard voices but it echoed. My body was over powered by a euphoric sensation, a feeling I didn’t want to stop and desperately tried to control.

I wanted it, I needed it, I loved it.

Beads of sweat are now on my forehead, my face was getting red, my toes started to tingle, my body shivered.

YES, YES, I wanted to scream!!!

I blacked out.

“Priscilla”

I said nothing.

“Priscilla,”

I come to and open my eyes.

“Are you okay? You look flushed.”

I very well couldn’t tell three investors while discussing a 30 million dollar construction project I had a fucking orgasm.

“Where’s the restroom,,” I asked?

I walked fastly down the narrow hall as I listened to my heels clank and echo past the glass office doors.

Did my pussy forget I masturbated three times this morning? Four orgasms wasn’t enough, my pussy yearned for more.

I enter the bathroom and close the stall behind me.

I slid my pantyhose down each leg, lifted my pencil skirt up (Didn’t have to worry about panties because I don’t own any) and started rubbing myself. I laid back, closed my eyes and envisioned the following:

I opened the door,

you grab my throat,

throw me against the table,

shove your cock in me,

yank my hair,

grind me,

fuck me,

harder,

make me bleed,

I plea,

you ignore,

I beg,

you call me a whore,

you shiver,

you cum,

deep inside of me,

pull out,

breathing heavily you ask,

What is your name?

 

Another powerful orgasm. I’m done for at least another few hours.

Lesson Learned: Why I don’t give strangers a ride

19 Jun

I woke up at 6AM in my new apartment. I had just moved the previous day and I was exhausted!! I needed a cup of coffee but my coffee maker was hidden in a box I couldn’t find.

I grabbed my keys to go to the nearest McDonalds…..still in my pajamas but I didn’t care, I planned on going in the drive-thru. I was almost at my car when my new neighbor introduced herself. She was short, petite with blonde hair and big boobs. Similar to my appearance but a good foot shorter.

“Hi, I’m Reagan.”

“Priscilla,” I replied.

She welcomed me to the community and pointed out the nosy neighbors to avoid. When she saw that I was leaving she asked:

“Do you mind driving me up to CVS so I can get my prescription?”

I knew exactly where CVS was, it was a block away, next to the McDonalds. It was only a block away, she could have walked, and she should have but instead I said:

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

I dropped her off at CVS, went to Mc Donald’s and when I was about to head back home I wondered if she needed a ride. I looked around but didn’t see her walking. I made a loop into the CVS parking lot and parked by the front door. I waited for ten minutes but still no sign of her. Maybe she was doing some additional shopping I thought.

I turned my ignition off and went inside. As soon as the electronic double doors open I see her in a fist fight with the manager. Why I didn’t walk out and leave I don’t know. My instant reaction was to pull her off this woman.

I heard the manager say:

“I smell alcohol on you.”

Followed by:

“I’ve called the police.”

Again, I don’t know why I didn’t leave, but instead I grabbed my neighbor, we got in the car and I asked:

“What the hell was that about?”

“They wouldn’t let me pay for my prescription with my father’s credit card,” she replied.

It made no sense to me but whatever.

I started the ignition and while backing out of the parking spot I could see the manager through the glass doors and on the phone.

You could see our apartments from the store and as I was getting on the main road five police cars passed us in the opposite direction.

There they go I thought.

Before I could blink one was behind me with red and blue lights flashing.

FUCK!!!!

What did this woman do, I thought? Does she have drugs on her? Did she steal something? What is she not telling me?

When the officer approached my window he immediately asked me to get out of the car.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?????

“Officer what is going on,” I asked?

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he said?

I told him the story, he told me to sit down on the curb and I watched him join the other officers who were now talking with her.

The officer approaches me again and asks me to stand up. I did.

“She has a completely different story. She says the two of you are good friends,” the officer said.

“WHAT????? That’s bullshit, I just met her.”

The officer gets closer to me and asks:

“Have you been drinking?”

Drinking as in alcohol, I thought? It’s not even 7AM, I have coffee in my cup holder not a fucking beer.

“No officer of course not,” I replied.

“Step over here please,” he said.

Great, I thought. I had been through this eight years prior and he was about to have me perform a field sobriety test. Why the fuck does he think I’ve been drinking, I thought?

I wasn’t drunk, didn’t stumble or wobble. I was sober ,but he didn’t think so.

I was handcuffed and placed in the back seat of the squad car.

In the meantime, these jackass cops believed my neighbor’s story, gave HER the keys to MY car along with my cell phone. Gave my valuable possessions to a woman I didn’t fucking know!!!

Once at the police station they take me to a room, turn on the video camera, asked me to do a sobriety test all over again followed by questions.

Once again they asked how I knew that woman. My story didn’t change, I told the truth.

They didn’t believe me, one of the officers said:

“Do you not understand why we don’t believe you? It’s hard to believe in this day and age someone who give someone they don’t know a ride.”

I’m sure I had a pissed, dumbfounded look on my face after that comment.

“Give me the breathyler so I can go home,” I yelled.

The officers looked at one another and replied:

“We are not giving you that option, we want a blood test instead.”

“Blood test, why,” I asked?

“We think you’re under the influence of something.”

Okay, first of all I watched my cousin die of AIDS because of a an improper sanitized needle. I have no problem with needles or blood but trusting the needle is sanitized is a different story.

I have a problem when the hospital sticks a needle in me and I’m certainly not going to let the county jail stick a needle in my arm.

I refused and I went to jail.

When I got out, my car was safely parked at the apartments but I never retrieved my phone. I went to the CVS and spoke with the manager. I asked what had happened and she said the woman went ballistic because the card she tried to use came up as “stolen.” I informed the woman “I” was the one arrested and she was shocked.

“You were the peace-maker. I gave them the description of the other woman, not you,” she said.

The next day I visited with a lawyer.

“I want to take this to trial,” I said.

“Well, let’s just hold off on making this decision right now. Let’s look at your video tape first.”

I leaned towards him and said:

“NO, I am going to fight this because I am innocent.”

The next time I visited my lawyer’s office was to talk about my video tape. First of all, there were two tapes, one at the scene and one at the jail. The video tape at the scene was never found but after six months, the video tape at the jail finally appeared.

“So what did you think,” I asked?

My lawyer leans back in his chair, with his hands folded and said:

“It was one of the best tapes I have ever seen.”

I smiled.

“However, there is only one problem.”

“What’s that,” I asked?

“You look too happy having been arrested for a DWI.”

And it was true. I wasn’t angry or hostile in the video but rather calm and cooperative.

I said to my attorney:

“What good would it have done if I got angry, yelled and called them names? They had already arrested me, they were not letting me go. I had a smile on my face because I knew I was innocent.”

The case drug out for another year and now it was the morning of the trial.

I was nervous but not really. I had faith justice would be served.

Then my attorney approaches me and says:

“The prosecutor has decided to drop the case because the main officer was recently fired for falsifying a police report.”

THANK GOD!!!!

It cost me $15,000 to be a good Samaritan, but partly it was my fault.

Then a year later the unexpected happened. I went into a convenient store and was standing in line when I noticed the officer standing in front of me was the same officer that had arrested me. In fact he was the dumbass who made the comment about people not giving strangers a ride in this day and age. I had remembered the name on his badge that day, Officer Barrett.

So I said:

“Good to see you again Officer Barrett, do you remember me?”

He turned around and said:

“No sorry I don’t.” (Perhaps he didn’t recognize me because that day I had no makeup on, hadn’t combed my hair and was still in my pajamas.

“It’s okay, I figured you wouldn’t,” I said. Then I continued:

“You arrested me about a year and a half ago at 7AM for a DWI. The case was dismissed because your fellow officer was fired for falsifying a police report.”

He said nothing. He just stared at me….shocked was a good word.

“So officer tell me…..how could I have been drunk when I recognize your face and remember your name?”

I’m embarassed to tell this story

18 Jun

I got an email from a man this morning I hadn’t seen or spoken to in three years. It made me think of this story.

I was sitting at the breakfast table one Saturday morning with my ex-fiance (the doctor) as we waited for the live-in housekeeper (who I later found out he was fucking) to prepare us breakfast. Instead of giggling as I usually did, I sat in silence. I had caught him cheating the day before, and at this time I knew of only one woman, not the other six.

I was sad, hurt and speechless. My mind was wandering and he knew I was upset. He was looking at the paper and I stared out at the beautiful lake that didn’t seem so beautiful this morning.

I was premediating how to cut off his dick when he put his newspaper down and said:

“How about we buy you a new car today? What kind of car would you want,” he asked?

A car that would drown your bank account, I thought.

He knew I liked Mercedes but he was pushing towards the car he drives which is a BMW. I still wasn’t thrilled or excited but went along for the ride anyways.

When we arrived at the BMW dealership it was a disaster. Every car he liked I hated. Perhaps I wasn’t in a very good mood and certainly didn’t feel like car shopping. The car salesman was doing everything to please me but I wasn’t the nicest person in return.

My ex-finance’s opening line to the car salesman was “I want to buy my loving and beautiful fiance a brand new car. Show us what you have.”

HAHA….BULLSHIT….”LOVING” MY ASS!!!!

For an hour I test drove a few different cars but nothing that got my pussy wet.

Then the car salesman said to me and my ex-finance:

“Your not very excited about getting a new car.”

Everybody went silent. There was only one thought that came to mind. For four years, I always kept my mouth shut. I never crossed my ex, even if I disagreed. Not sure why, maybe because of the power I thought he had but really lacked, but this day I said what I thought, and even after I said it shocked me. I said:

“It’s only a piece offering because I caught him fucking another woman last night,” I said pointing to my ex.

Ohhhhhhh, this did not go over well with my ex. But I didn’t fucking care, it was true.

My ex apologized to the salesman and we left.

“Why did you embarrass me like that,” he asked?

“Because it’s true,” I replied as my eyes are now starting to tear up.

He pulled into a restaurant and we had lunch. We ate in silence. Not sure if he was waiting on me or if I was waiting on him to say something. Then my phone rings, it’s my mother. I excuse myself and when I returned to the table he asked, “Who was that?”

My mother, I replied.

He took a deep breath, looked at his food and asked, “Did you tell her?”

“No.” (And I didn’t.)

A few moments of silence went by and I said: “She told me to tell you hi and she loves you,” I said looking down at my plate, picking at my food.

He put his fork down and asked if I was done. Yes I replied. I had no appetite.

We got in the car and he pulled into the Mercedes dealership when I thought we were going home.

When we pulled in, my pussy got wet, I was in love, I HAD to have that car. It was a brand new silver CLK. More importantly I was hoping it would be the most expensive car on the lot. Not the most expensive, but one of them.

A male and female car salesman approach us. My ex expressed we were interested in the car but I immediately interrupted them and requested, Tim, the car salesman who showed me some cars when I visited a few weeks prior.

They were kind to my request and said they would go get him. A few minutes later a tall, thin, well groomed African American gentleman started walking towards us. He was a kind, sincere man who didn’t try to feed me BS as most car salesmen do. Instead he was like a friend who came along for the ride to give me advice to make sure I wasn’t screwed over. Tim immediately remembered me and my name without having to reintroduce myself. He began to talk about the vehicle we were standing in front of when my ex interrupted him and said:

“Tim, is it?

Tim nods his head yes.

My ex continued to say, “Sorry for the inconvenience but we would prefer if the other two sales people would help us.”

Tim had a dumbfounded look on his face followed by sadness.

I was now fucking pissed and livid. My ex did not want to deal with Tim because he was fucking black. I watched Tim leave and the other two sales people walk towards us.

We bought the car, and I drove off in this stupid fucking Mercedes.

While driving home I really wanted to make a detour and run away. Driving back home instead of bolting was one of the stupidest mistakes I had ever made.

That night I didn’t sleep. While my ex was laying next to me snoring his ass off I didn’t think about leaving him due to his infidelity but rather how embarrassed I was at the dealership for the way he treated Tim.

The next morning I called the dealership, spoke to Tim and asked if he wanted to do lunch. Thankfully, he happily accepted.

A few hours later I met him at the restaurant of his choice. I smiled when I saw him, and he in return he grinned.

We talked, we laughed and then he started to get personal in a non-romantic way. I learned his wife had cheated on him and was confused about leaving her because of the kids. (I could completely relate, but I hadn’t shared my story.)

I asked him: “What will make you happy?”

His eyes lit up and he smiled. He began talking about this non-organization he wanted to start for abused kids.It was a brilliant idea and for the next 30 minutes he didn’t stop glowing as he went into detail about his idea.

“I just need to save enough money and trying to find investors. Hopefully it will be up and running in two years,” he said.

When lunch was over we went back next door to the dealership. He went inside to get my car plates and I went to my car, reached in the glove compartment for the card and check that was enclosed. It was the least I could do for my ex’s stupidity and him not getting the full commission on this fucking car. I opened the card, tore the check and wrote another. I had increased the figure.

Yeah, if my ex finds out I will deal with him later I thought. Besides, the second figure I wrote on the check still wasn’t enough in my mind.

Tim changed my car plates, I gave him the card followed by a hug and a thank you.

I called the dealership a few weeks later and they said he no longer worked there. I never saw or spoken to him again. Then today I get the following email from Tim:

Hi Priscilla,

I hope you’re doing well. I tried calling you two years ago but your number was disconnected. I was cleaning out my email when I came across an email you had sent me.

I am doing great, I am now divorced and have custody of the kids. My dream we discussed came true and it has really taken off.

Had it not been for you, it would not of come true. Thanks for your kindness and hopefully you’re not with that, well, I will stop here, but you know what I want to say.

Tim

Needless to say, my ex may have judged Tim based on his color, but really Tim is a real MAN!!!

My Visions, My Curse

14 Jun

When I was nine years old, mother and I left the movie theater after seeing When Harry met Sally.

Mom unlocked the car door and instead of opening the passenger door as I always did, I reached for the handle of the driver back seat.

“Priscilla, what are you doing,” mother asked as she noticed my odd behavior.

“I don’t know, I just feel like sitting in the back,” I said.

Actually it was the first time I had ever rode in the back seat since I could remember. But on this particular day something told me not to sit up front with my mother.

During the short drive home mother continued to harp on why I chose to sit in the back seat. Maybe her feeling were hurt or thought I was mad at her. I was about to be mad if she didn’t let it go.

“Priscilla, are you okay,” she said glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

“Yes mother, I ju……

BAM…….the car spins……we hit a telephone pole and a few cars before we come to a halt. By the grace of GOD, mother and I walked away from this accident without a scratch or bruise on us. However, had I been sitting in the passenger front seat that would have been the last day my mother had a daughter. Just to give you an idea, the passenger door was completely caved in and a few more inches the smashed in door would have punctured my mother’s arm.

It was shortly after this accident when I started having visions, visions that only occur when I’m in a motorized vehicle and which ALWAYS involves an automobile accident.

My first vision was a few months later when mother was driving me to dance practice. I saw a green car getting hit by an 18 wheeler. We drove a green car. One might think I was paranoid after the accident, but I wasn’t, it was REAL.

“Pull over, pull over,” I screamed to mother. She did and I started crying. I was freaking out, it was so intense.

I told mother about what I saw and she assured me we would not be in another accident because she’s now more of a cautious driver.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” mother said with her beautiful smile.

I half-heartedly smiled back, my heart still racing. Her reassurance didn’t exactly ease my worries.

Mother gets back onto the road and we notice congestion at the intersection ahead, two blocks from the dance studio.

There it was……an 18 wheeler and a green car. We looked at each other. I told you mother.

During my teens, the visions became more frequent, powerful and intense. I hated these visions because I couldn’t help these people. I couldn’t see the exact location of the accident and sometimes I would have a vision seconds before it happened. The worst part was before each vision I would get a werid feeling, almost like an anxiety attack, it was awful.

I hadn’t had a vision or an attack in over 2 years…..until this morning.

I woke up a few hour ago with sweaty palms, shaking fingers, could barely swallow and breathe. Not another attack I thought. I know things have been stressful lately but they have gotten better.

I drink some water hoping the attack will go away but it only gets worse. I get in my car and drive towards the neighborhood pharmacy in hopes there is an over-the-counter medicine to ease my rattled nerves.

Within the next few minutes my attack gets even worse, I am now feeling naucious……and then it happened……I had a vision.

I saw a woman wearing a yellow shirt crossing the street and hit by a black F150 truck to be exact.

I begin to cry. No…..this can not be happening again I thought as I made a U-turn to go back home.  I was about to turn my blinker on to turn onto my street when I saw something in the road. It was dark, the lights on the pole were too dim to see what it was. I get closer………

There it was, a woman wearing a yellow shirt laying on top of the windshield of the black truck.

Please LORD take these visions away from me, or give me the gift to be able to help these people.

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