When you think of November the first thing that comes to mind is Thanksgiving. A time of year you spend with family and loved ones, indulging in bangin food and enjoying each other’s company. It’s been 4 months, at this point I’d been staying with him more consistently. We were about to spend our first holiday together. I was excited to try and make some of my families main dishes, one being, Mac and cheese of course. So we take a trip to the grocery store to get all the ingredients we’d need to cook. I mention to him that I’d like to make something, he says,
“Nobody wants that Yankee shit”.
“But you’ve never even had it”
“So what, I don’t want it and you’re not cooking it”
We get to the macaroni aisle, I walk over to get a box of it.
“Vicki, wtf are you doin? Put it back”
“It’s Thanksgivin, just try it”
“You think you need to be eatin’ that shit? Put it down”
He made me feel how parents make you feel when they tell you “when we get in this store don’t ask me for nothin cuz you ain’t gettin it”... yeah, so I put it down and walked away with a full on attitude like what kind of thanksgiving is this about to be.
We went home, he made breaded chicken and rice, I made veggies, and that was our thanksgiving dinner. The best part about it was the wine. So much for a first thanksgiving. I didn’t meet any of his family and we didn’t go to anyone’s house.
Another incident that occurred this month was the time I went to get my hair done. He paid for my hair and nails to be done, all the time, which I liked. He always explained to me that he’d like his girl to look a certain way, and I definitely saw no problem with that. This particular time I decided I wanted a bun with a bang. He asked what I was getting, I showed him a picture, he gave me the money, and I was out.
The stylist seemed to be having an issue getting the bun to stay up. I told the stylist it’s ok, I still liked it hanging down so I left it. I left the shop feeling cute, as most women do after getting their hair done. I sent him some pictures of the results, he responds,
“Wtf, why does it look like that?”
“Look like what? You don’t like it?”
“I’d have to see it in person”
I thought to myself like damn, do I look that bad? His comments didn’t phase me because I still felt like I looked good.
Next stop is nails. I’m at the salon getting my nails done, he calls.
I answer, “Hey Babe”
“Hey, wtf is that in your head”
“What you mean? It’s the same as i showed you in the picture”
“Vicki that’s not the same”
... I explained to him the issue that the stylist was having with pinning my bun... at this point he begins to get loud and angry.
“I don’t give a fuck if he was having a problem, he should’ve had someone else do it, you waste my money getting some ratchet shit in your god damn head and then send me some picture asking me if I like it”
“Ok John” (we’ll call him John for story purposes)
“Don’t ok me, you waste my fuckin money getting that bullshit. You think I want a girl walking around looking like someone off the street?
“No John. Calm down, I can pin it up, it’s not that serious”
“You don’t know how to speak up for yourself and tell them to give them to give you what you’re paying for?”
“Yes I do but I didn’t think it was that serious”
I don’t fully remember how the conversation ended but I was sitting down getting my nails done, crying. Questioning myself like damn do I look that bad? Why is he so mad over a hair style? Yet again I felt like a child. I went home that night and pinned it up and took another picture and sent it to him. He responded,
“Now that’s better, next time get what we agree on”
Later that night, I went to his house, he greeted me with a smile and hug as if everything was great, as if nothing that happened earlier ever transpired.
Slowly but surely, I was feeding into his crazy behavior. Instead of standing up for myself and holding my ground, I was doing things to make him happy while it was hurting me on the inside. And I didn’t express it to anyone. Especially not him.