Chapter 1
Everything about this man screamed sexy—his voice, smile, and sexy-ass laugh! The man was amazing. It’s too bad that, in his eyes, I was a groupie. I was a groupie who wouldn’t leave him alone. I stalked this man. I was there for all of his social media lives and wrote him regularly. (Fan Mail) I was nice, respectable, and on rare occasions, disappointed.
He would praise the “fine” females—skinny and allegedly light/white skin. I try not to judge because I see the beauty in Caucasian folks, too, and notice that I said allegedly. He did state that he wasn’t attracted to big women, but the white/light skin part came from an outside source, and to be fair, that was just their assessment of him.
Mr. Brown is 6”11, dark-skinned, and OMG, what I wouldn’t give for just one night with the man! He can have any woman he wants and trust and believe that he was passing out dick passes to every “groupie,” but me.
I was his number one fan, but every fan thinks that. I was in love, in love with the man that I thought he was. Then he hurt me and broke my heart, and I fell in love with the man I knew he could be. But the damage was done. It didn’t take too long for me to fall out of love with “Kwame Brown.”
I’d met him in person and was mishandled. I had revealed to a frenemy that he’d responded to one of my many fan mails. It was a polite generic response that my frenemy had taken and used against me. She was in love with him also, and I was the competition. Many women were vying for this man’s attention, but she took it upon herself to ensure I wouldn’t get him.
I was nothing but a friend to this frenemy. I was genuine when I tried to give her advice on how to be a better her. I was in a healing process, but I also took what I knew and tried to help others heal. I have a good heart. And if I know that the hurt you’re inflicting upon me is because you’re damaged and broken, then I can overlook the wounds you’re imposing upon me.
Until I get tired of your bullshit, then all of that “turn the other cheek” shit goes out of the window.—“Forgive the people that hurt you, not for them but for you. They don’t care that they’ve hurt you.” She didn’t listen. She was motivated by hurt, pain, and toxic behaviors.
I don’t know why I entertained her. I knew she didn’t like me and didn’t want me with this man. But, being the “divine feminine” I am, I tried to help her. I would forgive and forgive and forgive some more. I was tired of being everyone’s punching bag.
When I chose to be happy, I decided I wouldn’t let people steal my joy. I would finish this life cycle happy, free of drama and toxicity. “Happiness is a choice, and I choose to be happy.”
