I went to school for business administration but lately I have been wondering if I missed my calling. Perhaps, instead of being a legal assistant, I should be hosting lovesick lunatics on a beige couch and counseling them on their relationships. Despite never being in love, or in a relationship that has lasted past eight months, I have found myself doctoring the relationships of my friends and family. Allow me to explain. Episode One: I meet up with my new friend Diana,* she’s in town for work and is staying at a nearby hotel. I knock on the hotel door excited about all the fun things we’re going to talk about and all the rotisserie chicken we’re going to eat until she answers the door in the middle of a heated discussion with her boyfriend. I sit on the hotel bed awkwardly waiting for her to finish so we could commence the chicken eating. She ends her phone conversation by hanging up on her boyfriend, going on a angry curse laden tirade, then finally bursting into tears. In the middle of sobbing she exclaims that she “hates that cracker ass cracker” (aside: love may be blind, but anger is racist). I spend the next hour and a half comforting, consoling and giving sound advice such as “Negros ain’t shit too.” By the time the episode has ended the chicken is cold, it’s near midnight and I’m mildly annoyed. Episode Two: I’m driving back from an interview in bumblefuck, MD and get a call from the BFF that starts off with “Hey, you called?” and launches into a hysterical, indecipherable, lovelorn rant. I want to be there for the homie but I’m about to be lost in Klanstown and need to access my phone’s GPS. I issue some comforting words and advise her to breathe. I promise to call back when I’ve reached the safety of the Capital Beltway. Episode Three: I’m chilling at Tha Management’s house looking at pretty dresses when I get a call from Noah* the boyfriend of my gay BFF, Pookie asking me if I’ve seen Pookie. The ride or die in me kicks in and I make the mistake of asking “Why?” Noah launches into a tirade about how big of an asshole Pookie is and that he’s been out with his friends all day and abandoned him at a party. I put Noah on hold because on the other line is Pookie asking, “What lies has that drama queen been telling you?!” I wonder how I got in the middle of their bull AGAIN but I facilitate them meeting up to talk about the problem with each other. All of this takes about twenty minutes and Tha Management is giving me the serious side eye. The Straw that Broke the Camel’s Back: Little single ole me has settled in to bed this past Saturday night. I specifically went to bed early so I can wake up, go to spin class, then go to church and thank Jesus for my new job starting this Monday and for allowing me to make it through aforementioned spin class. At 1:30 a.m. I hear my cell phone ring. I ignore it because a call at that hour is disrespectful. I hear it ringing again and I decided to answer it because a second call at that hour is an emergency. I pick up the phone to hear my baby sister’s boyfriend sobbing and telling me that he’s coming over and that I need to take him home and then return to DC to pick my sister and her friends up from the club. Umm, I need to go to sleep, I ask him where my sister is and he wails that “She’s in the club, she won’t leave!” I’m tired and confused so I say okay. He comes to my house, goes to the bathroom as loud as humanly possible, takes all of their relationship memorabilia from my sister’s room and sniffle’s “I’m ready.” I assume he’s not going to want to talk about it, I assume wrong. For the duration of the forty minute trip he yells, cries, and gesticulates wildly about how my sister is cheating on him, he has the text message proof (which he can’t access because the phone is dead) and how he has nothing to live for because he gave up his boys for his girl, he lost his job and crashed his car, and now he has lost the love of his young twenty one year old life. I launch into Dr. Love mode and begin the counseling session. We somehow land on how his stepfather cheated on his mom and he would never disrespect my sister and more crying. I tell him perhaps the texts were innocent flirtations and he should discuss his fears with my sister instead of leaving with MY car while she’s in the club. He calls my sister screaming about how he “knows!” about her double life and that he is going home. I hear my sister launch into drunken curses about him being a bitch. We finally reach the club and she gets in. I wait for the fireworks. I’m met with silence. Now usually, I would welcome the silence, but tonight I was pissed. I was dragged from my bed, in forty degree weather and had been forced to drive a hysterical boy around the city. I shrug it off and decide to curse my sister out in the morning. I ask her boyfriend where he lives and he answers, “ It’s late, I’ll just go home with you guys . I don’t want you going out your way.” What? WHAT?!?! You’ve been made me go out my way!!! The next afternoon I wake up (I missed church and spin) and ask what happened. My sister replies “We’re fine, Sorry bout that Donda” They’re fine. Diana and her cracker ass cracker: Fine. The BFF and her sorta, not really, what the fuck are you then boyfriend: Fine. Pookie and his dramatic ass boyfriend: Fine (although I have received two subsequent calls that indicated that they weren’t but neither one of them are ready to get off the pot). Me: Single, sleepy and bitter. I’ve put in enough work for four relationships yet I don’t have one. I’m ready to cash in my Karma. Karma better deliver me with a tall, handsome boyfriend who is fond of curvy, glasses wearing, afro having awesomeness. *names changed to protect the crazy ______________________________________________________________ |
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