I’m going to rewind again and this time back to the last eighteen months or so just prior to leaving NC for AZ. Back then, I had an online dating profile. And that’s how I met a man, a builder, whom I’ll call Bob. Before I met him in person, he informed me that he was going to tattoo my name onto his body. At the same time, as we talked by phone, he begged me to marry him.
I had never heard of love bombing and so I allowed his red flag behavior to fluff my ego.
I liked him even more after I met him. He was affectionate and treated me well. I told him up front that if he wanted to not use a condom, he’d have to first bring me the results of an STD panel. But since I had a hard time saying no, I caved. Interestingly, I have always believed that I am somewhat immune to peer pressure due to my unusual upbringing. But clearly, that has not always been the case.
Anyhow, I kept nagging him to go and get tested after the fact. Eventually, I refused to see him until he complied. And that’s when I saw for the first time, his dark side. He finally brought to me his test results. But by then, things were different between us. Looking back, I’m not sure if he said it or if I just thought we were exclusive because of the excessive attention he showered upon me. Either way, he had become distant and was constantly being tagged in Facebook posts by his baby mama who was a dancer at the club where he worked his second job as a bouncer.
So I got the bright idea to spy on him and find out if he was cheating.
My friend, whom he had never met, agreed to help me and so we took her car to Charlotte. When we got close to the club, we stopped at a McDonalds where we finished getting ready in the bathroom. I donned a blonde wig, applied heavy makeup and then superglued on both a nose and Madonna ring. An elderly woman came into the bathroom and when she exited the stall, I moved so she could use the sink.
She stared curiously at us through the mirror. She reached for a paper towel and then looking directly at us said, “Y’all remind me of something we used to do back in the day when we was trying to catch a cheatin’ man.” I confessed our intentions and she sincerely wished us luck. Shortly thereafter, we arrived at the club and through the rear view mirror, we watched as Bob worked the line. We waited until another bouncer relieved him and then we made our move.
Even though I was thirty-four, I had never stepped foot into a club prior to that night.
We sat at a table and all I could think about was how loud it was. I kept asking my friend, “Why is it so loud?!” Within minutes, Bob sent a text. “My, you’re looking pretty tonight!” I should’ve known, I thought, that my unique six foot tall body is not so easily disguised. I felt disappointed that my plan had not worked. And even though we continued to periodically communicate after that, I knew in my heart that I was done with him.
P.S. Bob never got a tattoo of my name and Bob wasn’t really his name.