Story Time: The Fuckboy Disguised as my “Friend”

All of our friends warned me about you. Nevertheless, I still persisted.

It all started back in high school. The four of us were always kicking it after school. We’d talk about our futures, discuss what happened that day, and most importantly geared up for the new chapter ahead of us.

I remember that day all four of us got denied from the colleges we applied to?

You and I connected on a deeper level because we really didn’t have a plan for college like the rest of the squad. We got through that together, just like how I got you through your breakup and you got me through my big move to Florida to do my internship at Disney.

The bond that you and I had was always different.

I looked at you like a young Black King. A young Malcolm X with such power and intelligence. Your spoken word moved mountains and you were wise beyond your years. We used to call each other brother and sister and look out for one another as such. Yet everyone always assumed there was more to that. In reality, there wasn’t anything else going on. At least not yet.

Every melodramatic moment I had you were there to get me through it. Every girl who came in and out of your life, I was there to get you through it as well.

Then, along she came.

You were madly in love with her, and I was supportive of it. Even I instantly fell in love with her when I first met her. We had a lot in common. But continually she showed me that she was really the woman for you. Until, that one conversation ensued.

The conversation about the hypothetical threesome is where we went all wrong. Rightfully as your girlfriend, she made you cut me off. First, I was hurt and ready to fight. Once the pain subdued, I realized my part in it. But, I knew for sure that I was ready to do everything in my power to get you back in my life no matter how hard it was going to be.

A year passes and we finally get the opportunity to communicate again. I invite you over to my place and we have the conversation that we needed to have. You apologized to me, and let me know what was really going on. We reminisced on the good and bad times, but most importantly we got our true feelings out. You sat on my bed, looked at me, and finally got it out the way.

You kissed me so deeply, almost like it was something that you knew you needed to do. You were passion personified. Then the feeling of lust came over us both and it went further than it should have. We had sex, and that’s where we both messed up.

You guys weren’t even together and yet she found out anyway. We stop speaking again and another fight ensues. You call me, and I lose my mind because I had already heard the news.

You proposed to her. That was the end of you and I.

You thought that after the first two times you hurt me I would have learned to leave you alone: “I’m just like these other dudes I tell you to stay away from. I warned you about them, and I tell you all the time that you are a Queen and should be treated as such.”

When I heard you utter these words I didn’t know what to think. I felt so betrayed because the apology that you gave me was so muffled, like white noise deafening my ears.

I wrote six different poems expressing my hatred for you. You of all people weren’t supposed to let me down, especially because you watched me go through so much pain in my past relationships.

I take full responsibility for this because in the end I’m the one that ended up hurt. As I close this chapter of my life, I’ll take this lesson with me: Once the climax is over, the true feelings come out.

The wolf always exposes himself. It doesn’t matter who or what it hurts in the process, just so long as it gets its fix.

 

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Nikeita Hoyte

A product of Trinidad and Guyana raised in Brooklyn, Nikeita has always had an undeniable love for writing from a young age. The way she makes words dance on paper is unlike anything you’ve ever read before. She best describes herself as “She likes her Jameson neat, and her eye rolling skills are elite”

Nikeita Hoyte

A product of Trinidad and Guyana raised in Brooklyn, Nikeita has always had an undeniable love for writing from a young age. The way she makes words dance on paper is unlike anything you’ve ever read before. She best describes herself as “She likes her Jameson neat, and her eye rolling skills are elite”