Have you ever been caught in a compromising– or a perceived-compromising situation? One of those situations that begs the comment, “It’s not what it looks like!”? This is the story of when I got caught black-handed.
RING RING — That was the sound of my boy Mike’s* (*not his real name) phone, around 8 am on a Sunday morning in October 2008. I was asleep on his couch in NC, visiting him for Homecoming weekend. He answered the phone and told the person that he was up and to come on through.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Through my sleepy, nearsighted eyes, I saw Mike open the door, and I caught a glimpse of a short female walk in. I said hi and she said hi back to me.
So the picture is, he’s in his bedroom, I’m on his couch with green and yellow rollers under a scarf, and practically blind. I mean, I was sleepy, and back then, I hadn’t had LASIK done yet, so I wore glasses everyday and was extremely nearsighted without them.
I was caught…. black-handed. Not red-handed–because I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
Mike and were truly and literally friends–no hanky panky, hokey pokey or doohickeys going on up in here. We have been platonic friends since grade school–our mothers were friends and we grew up in church together. We went to the prom together too, but it was only because he was cool at some of the people at my school, not because we “liked” each other.
She proceeded to walk into Mike’s bedroom with him, slammed the door, and LOUDLY questioned him as to who I was, why I was there, and why she was just finding out. She protested much, screaming, swearing, and hurling things at him.
When the yelling and profanities kept rolling for several minutes, I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep.
I felt like I woke up in the ghetto. And all of the sudden, I REALLY had to use the bathroom. I mean, BAD!
I was nervous, because I didn’t know if ol girl was going to come and wild out on me. But I gathered up all my toiletries and necessities and dipped over the the bathroom, which was RIGHT NEXT to the bedroom. Meanwhile, Mike was getting stuff thrown at him in his own bedroom, in his own apt! So why was I crouched down in the bathroom, with the door locked?
I hardly remember taking the shower, but I stayed in it long enough for his so-called girlfriend (whom he had never mentioned before) to get quiet. Oh they were still arguing, but it was quieter. I dressed and checked to see that the coast was clear. But do you know what I really wanted to do? I really wanted to tell this chick to pump her brakes. I didn’t have the foggiest, slightest inkling of a desire to mess with my brother from another mother. As a matter of fact, all during Homecoming weekend, he was hanging out with other girls, visiting them, calling them, and so on, with me right there the whole time, along for the ride. None of those chicks was trippin because they KNEW when Mike introduced me, “This is my friend Daree from New York,” it was true. Females can tell when other females have something going on with a dude. We just KNOW, right ladies?
When it got somewhat quiet, and I thought the coast was clear, I slowly cracked the bathroom door and let myself out. A few minutes later, Mike is a pretty meek, laid back dude, and he had been pleading with girlfriend to calm down and talk to me, instead flipped the script. Mike told me, “I’m sorry Daree, but you won’t be able to stay here.” Never mind that I had been there the past two nights, and had visited him in this same apt a couple years prior. Never mind that I was literally just a friend.
As I was packing up my things, the girlfriend had the nerve to sheepishly tell me, “I hope you understand…we’ve been going through some things and Mike never told me anything about you. I had no idea anyone was here.” And when she said it, she wasn’t yelling obscenities–she seemed almost meek speaking to me. It was a trip. Since she had to call Mike to let her in, and there were no signs of a female’s touch in the apartment, it was clear to me that she didn’t live there. But I still had to go.
I had to call my ex-husband and ask him to meet me 3 hours early to return our daughter back to me so we could head back to VA. He was a couple of hours away, and wasn’t prepared when I told him, “Something came up.” I didn’t really have anywhere else to go while I waited. Then I remembered another mutual friend of mine and Mike’s name Jackie*, lived nearby. Jackie grew up with us and went to church with us as well.
It just so happened that Jackie was home, so I was able to visit her and meet her kids for the first time. She made me laugh when I got there, saying, “Don’t nobody want Michael!” But I felt bad that I had to be abruptly awakened from my sleep, accused of foul play, and kicked to the curb– some hospitality, huh? The only apology I got from Mike, weeks later, was a short note on Facebook, saying “Sorry, I guess my player ways caught up with me.”
I saw Mike again, on the day after Michael Jackson died. I was in town for a Toastmasters regional conference. We watched some MJ videos and talked about how we felt about the loss, but neither of us mentioned that crazy nut-pseudo girlfriend-wack job-psycho chick who abruptly ended my stay with him the year before. For all I know, she’s not even in the picture anymore, but when he offered me to spend the night, I quickly told him that I had a hotel room.
So what’s the moral of this story? Don’t get caught black-handed with someone else’s significant other if they’re unaware of your presence. I didn’t need that drama, and neither do you!