“What dirty bitch you fucking” were the words that boomed through my cell phone as I walked down the street, oblivious to what this bitch was talking about. The girl on the other end growled “you need to go get checked”. Checked for what? Was this a joke? “I went to the doctor. I have Trichomoniasis” I didn’t know what that was and it sounded fake, so I started to laugh. She didn’t. “Whoever you been fucking out there in Philly yall both need to take your ass to the doctor, cus you got something!” that’s when my girlfriend hung up.
As I sat in the free clinic next to some tall Kobe Bryant looking nigga who must have got burnt after hitting that game winner at his local junior college, I told myself—“never again will I cheat on a girl”. Not only was I upset that I could have something, I was upset that I passed it on to a girl who I loved. So I was tested for HIV, the clap, kryptonite poisoning, and whatever else they could test me for. It’s not fun having a swab shoved down your dick and three tubes of blood yanked from your arm. And the wait for the results was intense. I started thinking of all the hoes I had sex with in my short life and cursed myself because it wasn’t worth it. My tests were all clean, negative, free nigga free, or whatever else you want to call them… so what happened? How did my girlfriend get burnt? 
I haven’t thought about my ex-girlfriend for a while, and then my Mother called me Saturday telling me she saw her in some store and told her I was getting married and that she could have been her “daughter in law”. What my Mother doesn’t know is that the girl I was involved with for nearly four years throughout high school into college was a bigger slut than I was, and in no world alternate or actual, would I ever have married her. I met her my senior year of high school, she was two years younger than me and all kinds of fun so I kept her around even when I knew I was moving out of state. We had a pretty good long distance relationship, not that Baltimore to Philadelphia is a very long distance. I would come home on the weekends we’d have fun, talk every night before bed, even if I had another girl over, I made sure to call her and tell her I loved her. And while you’re judging me, let me say this—you can love someone and fuck someone else a minute later. “Love doesn’t do that” is the biggest lie the devil ever told and a subject of another blog I’ll write later. During my junior year of college I started to sense that we were drifting apart and my trips home to see her became few and far between. Then one day the most remarkable thing in the world happened—she came to visit me and gave me the greatest head of my life. I don’t know how a Jada Fire blowjob feels but I’m sure it wouldn’t measure up to the way that girl swallowed pipe… damn she was a monster the way she gripped the dick then– where was i? Oh yeah.
Her improved dick blowing skills overnight and the tattoo she got on her ass that had a strawberry with the words “Dipped In Chocolate” should have been warning signs number one and number two. But I’m a man, and men are dumb. We think we’re the greatest thing and no girl would dare cheat on us with another nigga because no nigga can compare to this. I was so blinded by my own ego It would have took me falling inside her coochie for me to even consider that she was fucking around. But I just assumed that she finally embraced the power of dick sucking, no questions asked. Needless to say my girlfriend had replaced my mistress as my favorite sexual partner. It was like having a new toy, shorty did all kinds of tricks in bed, moaned, talked dirty and was generally pornstared out when it came to taking the dick. Despite the fact that both of us were having mind blowing, nut busting, “I think your mother heard us” sex, a few months later we broke up. 
I’m not sure how we broke up but it was amicable and we continued to talk like we were in a relationship except we didn’t argue because she wasn’t mine and I wasn’t hers. Eventually the sex stopped and we both began to move on. That would have been the end of the story except we had the “so while we were together…” conversation that all former couples have to go through. I laid it all out on the table… and I had a pretty big table. After hearing about what I now blog about, she was like “I feel so dumb… you fucked around on me with all those girls!?” So I was like “so you only cheated on me that one time?” Lmao!!! I should have brought my surfboard because this bitch opened the flood gates. 
Remember that boy who I said was just my homeboy and how I would never do that with him? I fucked him.
Remember that time I told you I couldn’t come see you? I was spending the weekend with such and such.
Remember the time I told you I had Trichomoniasis? I knew you didn’t give it to me I just needed to tell you so you could get checked. I didn’t want you to break up with me so I put it back on you.
Remember that time I told you I was spotting (she was on that birth control shot so she didn’t get regular periods but would always say she was spotting knowing that I don’t poke blood) I had got burnt again with Trichomoniasis from some dude I met at the gas station.


That shit blew my mind. I wasn’t mad, I was intrigued. Was I really that dumb? Was she really that clever? I was in another city but surely one of my niggas would have seen her creeping… oh yea them niggas don’t leave the block. I had to know details. The thing that blew my mind was how she actually fell in love with this other dude who was a local club DJ. She told me how he had a girl too and they called it their little secret. But she began to catch feelings and would go over to the dude’s house stalking him and even brought this nigga a bouquet of flowers. I was like “you brought him shit? Before me you didn’t give a niggas shit.” It was just like that Kanye West song. While I was happy she had improved her fellatio skills i suddenly had to black out all the times I kissed her knowing the pleasure that mouth had been bringing to niggas state wide. But the real reason I was devastated, wasn’t because she gave the pussy away, it was the fact that she was head over heels in love with another dude on my watch. It crushed my ego, I thought I was the man; all the hoes loved me… except for the one that was supposed to be mine. My man Falcon always told me not to trust them whores, and I trusted them. He told me to “watch shorty” and I didn’t watch her. I thought she was too innocent. Talked too proper. Loved me too much… Me, Mr. South Bmore and here was this chick from the suburbs who lived on a street straight out of Desperate fucking Housewives, playing me like a sucker for some local “listen to me scratch these records” nigga. Did I mention she brought the nigga flowers!
So we didn’t speak much after that, maybe every few months she would check in or I would check in, but that was about it. When MySpace had first taken off I remember going to her page and I saw her top 8, right below my picture was some dude with a name I remembered—The DJ dude. So of course I laughed and went to his page to look at his pictures. Guys love to compare each other just like bitches on the low. I called her and screamed “You cheated on me with this dirtbag” she laughed “he ain’t dirty, he cute.” I swear to god this nigga looked like Black Rob’s slightly slower younger brother. She said that he use to look better, that much time hadn’t passed for him to go from Omar Epps to Cadillac Tah. I made a joke that this ugly pre-slavery looking dude must have had a dick the size of voltron or ate pussy like it was his last meal, because no way that’s an upgrade. She said it wasn’t about all that, he just knew how to treat her, and how to make her feel wanted. I didn’t have a comeback for that one.
The last time I saw her was pretty memorable, she had just moved into her own place not too far from where my Mom’s lived. I went to visit her, I didn’t have any animosity because at the end of the day we were both young and living life, fucking is a part of growing up, and it felt like we came a long way together. So I stayed the night and got some of the legendary head and had sex with her one final time. A few weeks later I get a call from her cell phone late at night. “Somebody call (edited)’s phone“a guy said in his best Big L voice. I’m like naw. He was like oh alright. A few minutes later he calls back and the greatest phone call in history happened. I can’t really remember it but it went something like,
Slim: Yo why you texting my girl
Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about
Slim: (Reads X-rated text)
Me: That was weeks ago, we play like that, she’s the homegirl, that’s it.
Slim: The homegirl huh? But you been over my crib fucking her in my bed?
Me: Yo, I don’t got time for this bullshit. Don’t call my fuckn’ phone. (hangs up)
Slim: (calls back) Yo don’t let me catch you in my hood son, I’m from NY son we don’t play!
Me: (laughs) Oh you from Marcy Projects god, you from QBC dun. Bed sty do or die? (I swear to god I rattled off several New York rappers and places until dude began to scream how we was going to kill me)
I heard her in the background yelling and then the phone hung up. I was like damn… I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. She calls me back an hour later and told me that he’s crazy, he acts like her man but doesn’t pay her any attention yada yada yada here she was in another relationship cheating on her boyfriend. She thanked me for not saying anything about what happened a few weeks back. Then I told her, probably like other niggas told her while she was my girl, “I wouldn’t mess your relationship up, I got you”.
So is my ex married now? Is she still letting any nigga who looks like he’s homeless beat it raw? Is she a born again virgin who learned from her past mistakes? I have no idea. I may have talked to her three times since then. The last conversations were on the lines of “Do you ever think about us” and “you’ve been with that new girl for a while is it serious”. And yes it was/is serious so I stopped calling. My ex-girlfriend taught me a valuable lesson, if you don’t show a woman you love her and give your all to her—she knows it. And if you’re not giving her the love and affection she needs the next nigga or niggas will—and probably raw without a condom. But I had to go through all of that with her in order to grow into a man, and by the time I met my fiancé I was able to appreciate how special she was and what I needed to do to keep her happy. And I owe it all to the girl with the ratchet tattoo.

Comments are closed.