Love, Drugs, and Football 🏈

Jayda

"Get up and take back your life". The words I find myself saying these days in this marriage. Wondering how I got here, and how I am going to get out of here.

Squirming to be unleashed from my Husbands body, limp on top of mine, I try to push his almost dead weighted body away from me. These days, I would rather his dead body than the alive one...

I slide on the edge of the bed. My thighs still asleep from the bastard that collapsed on me.

I look myself in my dresser mirror and begin to cry. Where did my life end, where had my love for myself gone?
"That was some good shit" my husband says weakly. I jumped because I thought the bastard was dead asleep and I prayed he was dead altogether. He looks at me, sweaty, smelly, but arrogant. He says "Bitch, you gone cook or somethin?"
No the fuck he didn't! I have done enough. I let his nasty ass rock me back and forth to sleep while he pleasured himself. And it wasn't even enjoyable.
"Bitch Please" I murmur under my breath, praying he didn't hear me. I know yall are wondering, "Why do you feel this way about your husband."
Here is your answer. Our marriage ended a long time ago. We graduated college together. When I got out of college, I immediately found a job in my field as an Accountant. He never found a job in his field. I married him based on his potential, and once we got married, he just stopped. Stopped applying, stopped hoping, and stopped dreaming. But he started drinking and he started to try to be abusive. We haven't saved enough money for the divorce either. Can't wait til that GLORIOUS day.

I slid on my shorts and my tshirt, put my hair in a clip. I walked down our hallway and recalled last nights story... you see my panties, then his pants, my dress, his shirt, broken glass, pillows on the ground and a broken lamp. Yep, we went from drunk fighting to drunk fucking. Ain't that shit toxic? 
Just another Jayda and Ron special. You see, I got with him because I was afraid to be alone. Then, I married him so I wouldn't have to be alone. Now, I wish he would leave me the fuck alone. I graduated college and for what? To be a drunk man's baby sitter?

I commence to cleaning up the crime scene. Atleast I will be away from him for a week. Thinking of that fact, I smiled, opened the window, and commenced to cleaning. My best friend Keisha invited me to a Falcons game in Atlanta and I am THRILLED to be anywhere but here. I don't know shit about football. "CUT THAT SHIT OFF" Ron shouts from the room. "FUCK YOU" I shout back. I know our neighbors are truly sick of us.

As I am cleaning, I turn on espn to try to maybe study football a little bit before I go to this game. "Mike is one of the best football players to have ever lived! I mean COME ON NOW, let's he real man!" Stephen A. Smith is  going on and on about Magic Mike!!
Then, his picture comes up on the screen, and the BREATH is nearly knocked out of my body. This man was a tall, statuesque, chocolate glass of GOD IS GOOD! I mean, his beautiful white smile, his muscular legs and arms, and his fashion outside of uniform. Ugghhhh what I would kill to have a man like that, instead of this big lumpy laying in my room.

I take a deep sigh, and as I bend the pick the dust pan up, I feel a large hand on my ass.
"Was that bend over for me?" Ron says.
I am so annoyed, because why are you behind me, smelling like musk and disparity.

I hurry up and stand up and said "don't touch me. Prayerfully I'll find a man in Atlanta, and leave your ass".
"The ones that aren't transgender or gay. Bitch I'm the best you got!" He opens his robe, and almost looses his balance trying to do a spin.

Before I could cuss him out, I get a phone call from my bestfriend. SAVED BY THE BELL!

"Hey girl"
"HEY BITCH, I GOT THE MUTHAFUCKIN TEA FOR YOU GIRL" Keisha screams over the phone. I know that either there was some drama going on with her baby daddy, or she found some rich man again. Whichever one, I was not in the mood. But she is my bitch, so imma listen.
"What you want bitch" I say, cause truth is I'm tired.

"So I met this French man girl, his name is Ronaldi Cappone, and bitch he got money! I said i'm down with the swirl!!" Keisha says. I am just sitting here behooved because any normal person would know that Cappone is an Italian last name and not French. I don't feel like correcting her, because I have not had my first cup of coffee yet.

" Ok girl! So have you went on a date with him yet" I ask.

"No, but that's what I'm calling about. He got a Stadium Suite, and he invited us to the Falcon's stadium suite!!"

The fuck do I look like, an escort? I am not up for being the only black girl in an all white establishment. It's giving "Me too" story lines and I am NOT here for it.

"Baby, hell no. I am not going around all of these white men like a black prostitute." I said.
"Girl please, it won't hurt! Instead of the jeans and tshirt, wear something nice! Put on that red dress and them gold pumps and ACCESSORIZE PLEASE! Don't come out looking country bumpkin!" Keisha exclaims.

Excuse me? Just because I don't have the money for nice things all the time, doesn't mean I don't want them. I take care of a big bitch most of my days, I have to feed him, cloth him, and have sexy with him. Call me fucking Celie.

"Ok whatever, I'll see you tomorrow, Keisha. Love you girl"

"Love you too, REMEMBER NO SHABBY SHIT" Keisha says and then hangs up.
You only get one best friend, and mine is Keisha.

After cleaning up the living room, I go ahead and hop in the shower. As I begin to wash my body, I begin to wonder what this touch would feel like from a real man. I have never had a man to wash my back, to hold me in the midnight hour, hop in the shower and kiss all over me. I begin to wonder, is there a man out there just for me?

While I am having these thoughts, I hear my husband rummaging through the kitchen. I knew this man couldn't cook a lick. I got out of the shower, dried off my body and put on my house dress. I go into the kitchen and I see he already burnt the Spam. Now how you burn spam is beyond me.
"Bitch, don't look, cook!" Ron exclaims. I shake my head and commence to cooking. God takes care of babies and fools, and apparently so do I.

I fix him spam, two sunny side up eggs with sourdough toast and orange juice. His face lit up seeing that I prepared him something edible to eat. Cooking is my love language.
No matter how I feel about you, I will cook for you.

After I cleaned up the kitchen, I went in the bedroom and got dressed. I was so excited I already packed. I was not unpacking to add a red dress just because of some Italian man Keisha is sleeping with. I will buy one in Atlanta from one of the girlies that sell clothes.

I hear my husband come in the room with me, and he says "you know, if you cooked for me more often, I wouldn't have to go to Maria's house for food". I wanted to slap the piss out of him, but I didn't wanna be bruised up for my flight. "Let that bitch Maria deal with you. You never know, I might not come back" I said. I knew I was coming back. I didn't know anything else but Ron. Yes he treated me bad, and yes he hurt my heart. But he never left.
And I loved his Predictive nature. I know every day he is going to drink, piss me off, wanna fight and wanna fuck.
There must be more than this life for me