Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“I personally think our relationships with our fathers can manifest this sort of thing, Azure.” Fatima reached for a chocolate-covered strawberry and nibbled on it. “My father was in the house my entire life, but he wasn’t mentally or emotionally present. He was Muslim, and a macho man, I guess.” She shrugged. “Didn’t show much affection. He was sexist, too, blamed it on his religion, and I resented him. I ended up pickin’ men just like him.” She laughed mirthlessly. “I wish I was empathic, then I would’ve known better. My mama deserved better, and my daddy should’ve known better, too.” Pain tinged her voice.
“I think many of us are empaths, Fatima, in the traditional sense of the definition. I just think we choose to close our ears, eyes, and mouth. We don’t speak when we are on the brink of heartbreak. We want that man so damn bad, ya know? We think we can love him hard enough for him to change. Can’t nobody’s love change anyone unless they want to be changed. We can’t have our way with folks without their permission. Happiness doesn’t exist from a man or woman. Happiness exists within us, and then the person we end up with just adds to our pot of joy. I was happy before I met Caspian. I was in a good headspace, despite what happened with that damn fool…” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I didn’t love Gio, so I got over it, but I learned a lesson in that experience, too.”
“Which was?”
“Trust your gut. Never second-guess it. My Spidey sense told me something was wrong… that he had another woman. That’s why I didn’t fully trust him, and I told him that, too. This protected me. It’s harder to break away when you’re in love, and love can make you do stupid shit. Instead, I focused on trying to protect his girlfriend ’cause honey, I wasn’t the problem. It’s easy for us, as heartbroken women, to go after the other lady, but she ain’t the one that committed to us. That son of a bitch did. Period.”
“What is with us expecting these guys to suddenly do right? I guess because we hear about a few remote cases of a total hoe of a man turnin’ his life around, we think our man is going to do the same.”
“That’s just the thing. It’s not our man… that’s public penis. Community cock. Domestic and international dick. We want him to change… We feel like, well, he doesn’t really help out enough with the bills, he makes messes all over the house, and he’s selfish in bed. Comes fast and does it before I do. He don’t go down, he falls fast asleep right after he nuts, don’t even offer me a washcloth or a damn paper towel. He don’t even give me presents for my birthday, but he’s intelligent, he’s had a hard time in life, and he’s paying for my car at least… when the real reason we put up with roommates pretending to be our boyfriends or husbands is we’re afraid to be alone. Loneliness scares the shit out of us. We’ll put up with bullshit just to say we have some shit in the first place.”
“Azure, preach! You said a mouthful! I remember in my late twenties, I was holding on to that fool, Kenny, all because so many other women wanted him and I didn’t want to be alone!” Fatima confessed. Her eyes sheened over. “That man practically destroyed my life. He ruined my self-esteem, on purpose. So that—”
“You wouldn’t leave him!” India yelled out.
“Exactly!”
“See, that last part is the kicker, Fatima. Most of us won’t admit that last one… that we’ve wasted our best years on a man who does the bare minimum. He don’t work. He don’t cook. He don’t clean. He don’t fuck us right, if at all. He does nothin’ but bring misery. A lot of times we’ll ignore that man’s past, too. We won’t ask, ‘Why in the fuck has this guy been married so many damn times?’ or, ‘Why is such a great catch like this still single?’ We need to ask those questions, and we need to hear the answers, then study the answers because our self-actualization, even in the best of circumstances, is often flawed and not the true picture.”
“Yes!” India began to clap.
“Perception is a tricky thing. We can convince ourselves of anything. We may think we are a great friend. A great coworker. A great mom. Then, we have a couple girlfriends come and tell us we’re unreliable. That we’re disrespectful or snarky. A coworker may say hey, ‘Every morning you’re late, and it affects my daily timeline, throws me off, and affects when I leave for lunch.’ Our kids might get older and admit to us that we were cruel to them. We said mean shit to them that they’ve never forgotten. Don’t mean we were a terrible mother, but that we’re flawed. And that’s real. We all have fed flags. Some might be light pink or magenta, but they are cautionary all the same.”