How we met
Eric and I met online several weeks ago. I was immediately attracted to
Eric by his striking good looks. I mean damn! The man was 42, 6’4”, 215 pounds,
mocha complexion, one of those low trimmed Ice Cube type of beards that was
nicely edged up… and bald. I’m not a big fan of bald heads, but there are
always exceptions to my many rules *wink*.
Eric’s profile stated that he was a hard working man and
single father to a 14 year old who loved the Lord first, his mother second and his daughter
Taylor third. He was looking for someone to love just as his mother and father
loved one another.
Aside from the instant visual attraction that I had to
him, I was also drawn in by the fact that he was a single parent raising a
teenage daughter just as I am. It’s always a plus when you can find a man who’s
parenting situation is parallel to yours and vice versa I’m sure.
All of these seemingly wonderful bits of information made
me want to know more, so, I sent him a message and he immediately responded
with his phone number. Now, usually on a dating site, when a guy sends me his
number before we’ve exchanged at least a few messages to get the initial
introductions over with, I run the other way, but for some reason, I went
against my own rule, and decided to give him a call.
When I called, it was around 8 p.m. that evening. The
phone went straight to voicemail, so I left a simple message letting him know
who I was and I left my number for him to call me when it was convenient for
him. That call came at 8:15 a.m. the next day.
When we began talking, he first apologized for not calling
me back that night but explained that he had a family emergency and didn’t get
home until the early hours of the morning and didn’t want to be inconsiderate
and call too late. This, folks, is what you’re supposed to do if you are not
familiar with the person and their sleep habits, or if you have just an ounce
of decency in you (where’s that damn Malcolm at? He needs to be taking
notes).
I thought it was great that he was considerate in that
regard. Definitely a plus in my book. We continued talking for a while longer.
He told me about moving here to Atlanta from Chicago and how he and his ex had
been divorced for two years but he has custody of their daughter because Tahsha wasn’t a good parent. He ran down the story of how they moved to
Atlanta from Chicago and once they got here, Tahsha got wild. She partied
through the week and every night on the weekends; never cooked, never cleaned,
and barely paid any attention to their daughter. Of course my empathetic bone kicked in. A man
in a situation where the mother is no good? Dag on right I’m going to be sympathetic to the situation. He explained that Taylor was his everything. He considered
her to be his best friend.
He told me how they ran their day to day life and what
activities she was involved in. He explained that many days, he may get home
late and she’s home alone and she gets scared. I began to really feel for the
guy. Raising a daughter is tough for me, so I’m sure for a man it’s slightly
more challenging.
After our first conversation, it became a bit harder to reach him. When I would call in the evenings, or text, I would never get a response unless it was late at night, he was in his car going somewhere, or he was at the store or no response at all that night, but I would hear from him the next day. He claimed that it was because he didn't want to be rude to Taylor and that she had a strict study time which he helped her with her school work. That excuse never sat right with me, but I try not to question others' parenting techniques.
When I talked to him on Tuesday morning, he asked if we could do lunch that day so we could finally meet, and I was more than eager to oblige.
The Date
Due to my work schedule not being as strict as his, we decided
that it would work best if I drove down to meet him and we would have lunch at
his job. He was open about where he worked, and claimed he had nothing to hide.
When I got there, I text him to let him know I was in the
parking lot. I parked my car in the direction of the building thinking that I
would get a good vantage point to be able to size him up as he approached.
Instead, what I got was the view of witnessing him approach my car through my
rearview mirror.
It was like that moment in “Waiting To Exhale” when
Loretta Divine was watching Gregory Hines unpack that moving truck all slow and
breathy. As I watched this tall glass of smooth flowing water approach, my
eyebrows raise slowly in awe, my blinks move my lashes in wistful, slow sweeping strokes, that tiny lump almost get’s stuck as my breath hitches in my throat.
THIS…MAN…IS…FUUUUIIIINNNEEE!!! Do you hear me?!?!?! ?
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Now, don’t get me
wrong, I have seen some gorgeous men in my day, but this one... hooooooooney!!!
When I say that this man could have got “it” right there… right in the parking
lot if he would have asked for it, (of course I’m not just going to offer it up)
trust me!!!
Even though at this point I was feeling a bit intimidated
by his looks, so there was no way I could just shrivel up in my car and die, I
had already told him what type of car I was driving so there was no backing out now.
I saw him come up to the
trunk of my car and I could feel his presence as my eyes closed as he knocked on
my window.
As I opened my door to get out, he stepped around and was directly in between myself and the car door. Again, what am I a sucker for folks?
That’s right… a man that smells good. I inhale the spicy floral fragrance of
Tom Ford’s “Noir” cologne and just about died. C’mon Lord, you’ve got to be
playin with my emotions now. This is just too much!
As we stood chest to chest, neither of us said or did
anything but stare at the other. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a
deceitful semi-smile as my eyes danced back and forth between his lips and his
eyes, he pulled me in closer at the small of my back and gave me the slightest
kiss on the cheek.
“You are absolutely breathtaking!” he whispers as his lips
grazed the side of my face as he pulled away.
If I wasn’t a rich chocolate hue, I would have been beet red
from the sheer enjoyment of this moment.
“Thank you.” I blush.
Shaking off this insane feeling of desire, I change the
subject and make light of the moment.
“So, are we eating from a roach coach or are you having my
lunch catered today?” I ask playfully placing my hands on my hips.
His laugh is deep and throaty and instantly contagious.
“Something like that.” He says moving further away and
giving me space to actually come back to reality.
"We cater in every other
Wednesday, so today…” he continues as he grabs my hand to kiss, “is your lucky
day.”
Fine, charming, smells good, bowlegged, and just all out
sexy? All bad combinations in my book. These things dull my otherwise sharp
senses.
I am silently saying a prayer to the Lord that this goes
in my favor. After Cory and Malcolm, I don’t know if I can handle another devil
in disguise.
We walk inside and immediately I notice three women
completely stop what they’re doing to look over at us. I can tell that they are
acting like they are just “noticing” someone walk in, but I can see the jaws
tighten and teeth clinch in an attempt to talk among themselves inconspicuously to inquire as
to who I am and what business do I have with Eric. Was this standard behavior
when an unknown woman entered a room full of familiar faces? Sure it was- at
least among busy body women it is.
Only a handful of the men notice that I’m even there, no
one else seems to really care, which is totally fine by me. I’d rather go
unnoticed than feel uneasy about infiltrating on their lunchtime festivities.
Eric hands me a plate and we begin down the serving line. It’s
Mexican day so this is right up my alley. Being a California girl, aside from
my granny’s authentic southern “cuisines” aka soul food, Mexican is my
favorite. The spread is great- Fajitas with caramelized onions and grilled
jalapenos, carne asada meat, marinated shredded beef, marinated spicy and non-spicy chicken, 3 types of cheeses, fresh
cilantro, 3 types of homemade salsas, refried beans, black beans, Spanish rice,
guacamole, sour cream, tortilla chips, sopapillas, tres leches cake, and my all
time faaaaaaaaavorite dessert, snack, sweet fix whatever you want to call it…
CINNAMON CHURROS *yuuuuuuuuum*. This was heaven!!!
Eric leads me to a table in the farthest corner in the back of the room.
It’s completely out of ear-shot of anyone else in the room but there are a few tables not too far away. I assume that he
picked this spot so that we could somewhat be alone and really be able to talk
with one another, which again, is totally fine with me.
Although this isn’t the traditional date, it’s still
pretty cute, at least in my mind. I get to see him interact in his own environment with his coworkers and it’s
a great way to really see what he does.
In between bites of food, we chit chat about some of the
people in the room. He tells me about Fred, one of the mechanics that works on
the cars that are brought in. Fred is 47 years old, morbidly obese, and has horrible
body odor and refuses to bath on a regular basis. Fred’s belief is that
deodorant is man made; It’s not from God, therefore, he don’t need it. Uhhh…
yeah, okay Fred… and this is one of the reasons why your ass is single.
Then there’s Greg, one of the buyers. Greg is the owners son.
Greg has six kids by six different women and has another child by another woman
on the way. Greg’s belief on bearing children- as long as he can take care of
them, it ain’t nobodies business how many he shoots out. SMH!
He tells me about all of the little idiosyncrasies,
beliefs, and personal lives of just about everyone in the room.
“And who is that?” I ask pointing to the south corner of
the room at the young lady that seems to find my face oh so interesting.
He briefly looks up to see who I’m asking about and
continues to take a bite of his fajita.
He tells me that her name is Alfreda, the receptionist.
She’s sitting by herself, away from everyone else. No one seems to even notice
her nor are they making a b-line to sit with her. I seem to be the only person
looking at her, and that’s only because she’s looking directly at me.
Alfreda is a single mother, two little boys, relocated
here from Kansas City, Kansas three years ago and doesn’t speak to any of the
men here at the job other than the owner, Greg… and Eric.
Quizzically, I ask, “So what makes you so special?”
“Honestly, I'on't know.” He shrugs. “From the first day she
started working here, she and I pretty much hit it off. We have a great working
relationship.”
“Is that right?” I say. “But why? I mean, seriously, why
you and not any of these other men in here?” I question playfully. “She works in the
front office and you’re in the back right?” He nods.
“Soooooo…?”
I could tell he was getting uneasy with my questions. He
began to shuffle his food around his plate and he wouldn’t look up when he
answered.
“I told you, I don’t know.” He mutters.
I look over at Alfreda and she’s still looking over at me.
If looks could kill, I would be laid out cold on this linoleum floor.
“Okay,” I say, “One more question and I’ll leave it alone.”
He finally looks up and nods his head for me to continue.
“So have you fucked her?” I didn’t know any other way to
put it. His uneasiness, her blazing glare, her willingness to ONLY speak to him
and no one else… what else could there be? If he did, I don’t care. I don’t
know her and that was before me so it doesn’t matter. I’m just curious as to
why only him.
“She’s a cool girl. We went out for drinks when she first started working here, but shit just didn't click for us. We didn't vibe." He says nonchalantly. “We still cool though.”
At that point, I decided to just drop it. Like I said,
whatever happened between them, it was before me so it really shouldn’t even be
an issue.
I changed the subject and began talking about his daughter.
“That’s my baby!” he beams as he shoves a forkful of rice
in his mouth. I love men that speak so lovingly of their children. His
smile makes me smile.
“Does she keep you busy?” I ask.
“Does she? Oh heck yeah!” he says as he sits back in his chair. “She’s
in the band and they're always playing in some event or other. Our schedule is
always hectic.”
“So with a hectic schedule, how will you have time for me?”
I say shyly.
He places his fork down and looks me square in the eye, “I’ll
make time.”
Well alright then! I love hearing that, but how many times
have I heard it? More than I’d like, and usually, it never happens.
I was totally in the moment when up walks Alfreda. I
literally jumped in my chair because she was standing right next to me looking
down at us before I noticed she was there.
“Freda!!! What’s up love?” Eric chimes.
“Hey E!” she says back. “You work here? What’s your name?”
she asks me with a simple nod in my direction.
I’m a bit annoyed with her whole approach. I’m not
bothered by here coming over to speak; I mean damn, she might as well have sat here
with us since she starred the entire time she ate her food. What bothered me
was her body language when she asked who I was. Weight shifted to one foot, arms
folded, and completely defensive, when in actuality, I should have been the one
on the defense here.
Even though I didn’t like it, I answered her questions anyways, “No.
I don’t work here and my name is Candy.” I stated flatly. “And you are?” I
asked her.
Instead of answering my question straight away, as if Eric or I had invited her to join our conversation,
she pulls out a chair and sits down.
“Eric know's who I am. Don't you E?” She says as she scrunches
down in the seat with her arms and legs crossed.
That’s it? Eric know's who I am? Oh okay. So you have no
name? You have no title here? Although I already knew these things, the proper
thing to do is to introduce yourself correctly. She asked who I was, and
received an more than adequate response, and I expected the same in return. But something didn’t
feel right about this.
Eric doesn’t respond; as a matter of fact, he doesn't even look up at all. His head is hanging damn near between his legs. As we all sat momentarily in
silence, I noticed several of the fellas at the nearby tables looking over at
us. Yeah, something is definitely not right here.
“So what’s up ‘Freda?” Eric says breaking the awkward
silence. “How the boys doin?”
She says nothing; she’s just staring at me with a blank
face.
“Oh, okay. So your name is Freda?” I say trying to get her
to stop making me feel uneasy. I swear, I felt like this was a fatal attraction
moment. At any moment I expected for this girl to lunge for my throat.
Still nothing.
“Ooookay ‘Freda,” I say with a twinge of attitude because,
now, she’s being beyond rude. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
Totally ignoring everything I'm saying, “So if you don’t work here, why you here?” She finally
speaks.
“C’mon ‘Freda!” Eric says. “Chill with the questions. Now
ain’t the time.”
Eric places his napkin in his plate signaling that he’s
done. “You done babe?” he says as he reaches over for my plate.
I shoo him away because I’m still pissed. She stares, she
interrupts our conversation, she questions who I am, and doesn’t respond when
asked the same question, and now she’s questioning why I’m here
seeing Eric. Who the fuck is this broad with these big ass balls swinging way
out in the open for everyone to see?
“I told you, no, I don’t work here and that’s all you need
to know.” I say mirroring her own body language.
I hear a guy behind me say, “Oh shit, look look look!” and
I’m sure he’s talking about us.
She smacks her lips with a slight chuckle and sits forward
in the chair. “Oh, so you babe?” she says, voice slightly elevated.
I look at Eric in total disbelief. Is this shit really
happening? I did not drive all the way down to Jonesboro on my damn lunch break
for this bullshit.
I’m done. I grab my purse and head for the door. Another
bullshit ass man with more games than fucking
Hasbro.
I didn’t even bother to look back to see if Eric was
following out to the parking lot. I actually expected him to try and explain
what the hell just happened, but he didn’t. Instead, I got Alfreda right on my
heels.
As I almost get to my car, I abruptly spin around and
Alfreda stops dead in her tracks.
“What? What the fuck do you want now?” I yell. “I'm done. I'm leaving. You can
have him. He’s all yours ‘Freda!”
She puts both hands up in an attempt to calm me down,
which surprises me.
“I don’t want him!” she says calmly. “And I’m glad you’re
leaving and I hope you don’t come back… at least not for his lame ass!”
Huh? Did I miss something? Was she not the same chick that
was just inside questioning me and asking if I was “babe” like she had some
kind of personal stake in this whole ordeal?
“I don’t get it.” I say shaking my head. “What was all
that bullshit inside the break room?”
“You notice he didn’t come after you?” she moves closer
and I back up. I’m not going to front, I was a little scared. Was I about to
get shanked? Was she about to try to fight me? I didn’t know what was about to
happen.
"His cover is blown." she shrugs it off. "He has no more use for you now."
She grabs my arm, “This your car?” she asks pointing at my
car.
I nod my head.
“Good. Get in it and leave as fast as you can.” She warns.
“What? Hold up ‘Freda. What’s up? What’s going on?” I ask
completely confused now.
“Google him Candy.” She says with a slight tremble in her
voice. “Facebook him too. Look him up on there and that will tell you a little
bit more than what he’s probably told you. But most of all… Google his black
ass!”
I wish she would just tell me instead of me having
to go home and investigate this mess. She’s starting to come off like a jilted
lover. Pissed off because he no longer wants her and he done with her and if she can't have him, neither can anyone else. But I have to at least listen to what she's telling me. Most of the time, you can’t believe what those folks say, but there is
usually some small element of truth to their story.
“Okay, fine. I’ll Google him.” I agree. “But could you tell me
what all this is about first? I don’t like riddles and clues. My name ain’t Dr.
Suess.” I say fidgeting in my purse for
my keys.
“Did you and Eric date or have ya’ll been a couple or
something?” I ask before I get in my car.
“Ha!” she blurts out. “He’s married… and from the look on
your face, it’s clear that he told you that he wasn’t… right?”
She looks around to see who’s watching and a few of the
other ladies are out front smoking, acting like they aren’t paying attention,
and also some of the men are standing around shooting the shit but turning in
our direction every now and then.
“Look, I don’t want to say a whole lot, but just know that
he took me out once and tried to force himself on me and I reported it and I’m
just thankful that I still have a job.” She said and then turned to leave.
Whoa!!! Wow!!! What the hell? What is going on here? This is way too much and way more than I bargained for. I don’t know whether to believe her or not, but Eric not
coming after me speaks volumes.
Maybe I should look at ‘Freda’s behavior as a blessing.
Was her initial behavior her way of getting rid of me so that she could have
him to herself? Or was she genuinely looking out for me? I wanted to talk to
her more, but it was best that I left.
This explains a lot though. Her reporting him is probably why no
one was sitting with her or talking to her. She was now the pariah of the
office.
I need to get back to my office and Google this fool
ASAP!
Eric rings my phone off the hook the whole time I drive
back to work. I didn’t want to answer it or speak to him until I had some
answers that I found on my own. I’ve dated dudes like him before. They fuck up and
their shit comes to light but they know all of the right things to say to twist
the stories and make you believe that what you’ve heard or seen just isn’t
true.
By the time I get back to my office, I have a ton of
emails to respond to, so I don’t have time to do my research, but once I made
it home, it was the first thing I did.
I first looked him up on Facebook. He has a pretty common
name so it took me a while to finally get to him. Luckily his page wasn’t set
to private so I SAW EVERYTHING!
Sure enough, just as Alfreda had said, his Facebook page
showed me what I needed. It showed that he was in fact, STILL married to Thasha.
Status updates of them booking their 17 year old daughter’s spring break
vacation and graduation trips, and posts about how he is so blessed to have
such a loving and caring wife.
SMH!!!
I go to Thasha’s
profile, which isn’t private either. I click through the pics and I see THREE, not just one, children. All girls. The youngest doesn’t’ even look to be a year old.
Everything in me wanted to message his wife and let her
know what her trifling husband was up to. But if he’s doing stuff like this, bringing chicks to his job, and taking
co-workers out and forcing himself on them, then it’s more than likely that she
already knows the type of man that she’s married to, so me messaging her would
do no good.
Next, I Google him. Ohhhhh…Emmmm…Geeeee!!! The one thing I
ALWAYS look for when I’m getting close to being serious with a man is a criminal record, specifically looking for domestic issues like abuse or assault charges.
Sure enough, this idiot has a loooooong list of charges for aggravated assault,
battery, and several other charges.
There is nothing he can say to explain this away. Do I
answer the phone when he calls to give him a chance to tell his side and explain why he's a low down dirty dog? Hell fuck no!!!
Lesson learned: Everything that looks good to you, ain’t
always good for you!
