“i couldn’t help it.”

(best read if you listen to Joe Budden’s “Couldn’t Help It” while reading)

Part 13 of 13

As I tried to supress the tears, flashing back to all the nights I cried, all I could wonder was, “Why?” I look in your eyes and I see a mixture of frustration and desperation. Blood under my nails, scars will cover your skin. Where did the love end? Where did the disrespect begin? I can’t even talk to you. We’re both breathing heavy. People are watching. No one is helping. A scene under the streetlights. My keys almost in the gutter and your phone on the curb. My heart was shattering. My body was hurting. Neither one of us could speak. How did we get here?

I thought after the first time, you’d definitely stop. Between anxiety and the misery of my intuition becoming reality, even I couldn’t stomach me. I was sick. I was so sick. That soon turned to anger. Anger that I could do nothing about. I screamed and I yelled. You pleaded. Pleaded. I swear I thought I heard remorse, thought I felt respect, thought you felt me. The anger turned physical. Instead of letting go, where are we now? Damn, just miserable.  Then 6 months later I found myself going through the same. You wouldn’t dare mention her name. I’m in the street and some females were ice grilling me. I used to just smirk and cock my head- down for whatever. Guess that’s the G in me. I hid my broken heart so well. So perfect to the paparazzi but inside such hell. Finding pictures in locked places, “I’m pregnant” texts and flirtacious messages on MySpaces.

I passed on him, ignored shorty because all I could see was you. Back then, I used to wonder why couldn’t you only just see me too. As he’s inside of me, thoughts of you are inside of me. About how it used to be. Once upon a time when we lived happily. When we rode through the hood, meeting each other at red lights in our hoopties. Nah, these tears aren’t from ecstacy. I just can’t believe I’m letting him lay next to me. My phone is vibrating and I know its you calling. It’s 3am… around the same time I used to know it was her calling. How did I get here? Everyone used to tell me how lucky I was. Everyone wanted to have a man who loved them like he does.

I didn’t get abs from working out for 2 hrs every night. Nah, baby, I didn’t roll over one day and decide to get right. And yet I used to pray you’d wake up and just decide to do me right. Sometimes I wonder if you made me feel unpretty. Was I walking around thinking no one else would fuck with me? I just let you mentally fuck with me. So when he approached me at the bar, my smile was true. He was a light skin shawty, but he’d have to do. He made me laugh. I’d missed that so much. I winced in pain, thinking my ribs were crushed. That anguish reminded me of my goal to let go. A new year, new me, a new chance to grow.

I accepted his number with a promise to call. Once upon a time, would I have? Not at all. Text messages and voicemails, they populated my phone. I missed most of them. The jack was home all alone. At first we were just kickin it– I was fighting him off. He accused me of playing hard to get. Like girls do, just showing off.

Then one day I decided to let him in. He offered to drop me off and I said, “Nah… please come in.” As his eyes looked over me, I don’t know if I’m even participating. I could feel the wetness my pores, our bodies precipitating. Was I wrong? I don’t know. But I had to do it. Had to prove it— to myself. My heart, I had to move it. I had to let go. With each exercise, I let go more. How would I feel in the morning, right now, I wasn’t too sure. Afterall, where we were wasn’t love. This wasn’t my truth. Excuse after excuse, and I believed in you. When only one mattered… because you wanted to.

Every crack you put in my heart, I felt it. But, he kissed me from my nose to my navel and I melted. This was just the first time, and like I did, you’d have to accept it. So as you stare at me in disbelief. I’ll just tell you like you told me, “I couldn’t help it.”

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10 thoughts on ““i couldn’t help it.”

  1. So THAT’S what she was thinking…
    Wow. I love this one Mimi. I think everyone goes through that; what I have termed ‘love shit’. It’s like a pre-requisite to the real think. It’s like ‘love shit’ is the by-product of the real thing; some form of impurity left over. Love your writing though (seriously). I’m actually working on something, we may need to talk shop. Later for that though, good post.

    Bond. BlkBond.

  2. this blog is so real it’s almost unbearable; one of those i don’t drink but damn i’m on my way to the liquor store. LOL i think anyone who has ever been in love and had their heart broke (especially a female) can relate to this!! its like you give him your heart your soul -which matters so much more than your body- and you just KNOW or is a better word HOPE he wouldn’t make a fool out of you. Despite what the older ladies of the crew have tried to warn/ “teach” you, you’re just so caught up, you just see them as scarred women that have a sour taste for love. And then damn after that one phone call, or that read e-mail and can’t forget to thank that new camera phone your homegirl just copped you’ve become that scarred women… that fucking statistic!!! It’s like damn how am I hurt, embarrassed, and broken all at once!! now to the same group you was just explaining “naw not him” you’re screaming “i can’t believe this fucking nigga”… although they’re offering to have a nigga bashing night with you, you know in the back of they’re mind they’re thinking “bitch I told you so”. and even though the evidence is there and this motherfucker has already been found guilty, the love you have still wants an explanation. still wants to believe this shyt isn’t real, you still continue to look at the picture and zoom in hoping its not him…. but it is, and you’re soo torn between love, pride and beliefs…. so you rash and hang up just so he can call back (cuz he better call the fuck back)… and after all this hurt, tears and sleepless nights you accept the gifts and the apology take him back…. 75% because of the love and 25% because your same “bitch I told you so” friends are now telling you “every nigga cheats, he does mad shyt for you so maybe he does deserve a second chance” and damn if 2nd doesn’t turn into 3rd and 4th…. and its just like you said you almost start to feel unpretty, doubt yourself… like wtf I do more than enough and by his uncontrollable moans I KNOW mines is one of the best if not THE best…

    damn Mimi, you really have me going in….. but the shyt is just crazy because for a second the heartbreak, pain and anger no rage you feel makes you lose yourself… you feel lost like where do i go from here… how do i start again, do i want to start again? how do i go back to I instead of WE?!… but i’ve learned you don’t know how strong you are until you have to be!!!! and although the new him could never be you, he’s doing a damn good job of filling this vacant space and trying to doctor these wounds that only he had the ability of giving me…. but truth be told these wounds will never completely close!!! not meaning i won’t be able to love and trust again, just meaning the next won’t be able to play the same “please forgive me” game you did! so in the end now that i’m able to look in the mirror and see just how bad this bitch is again, i thank him! because it was a lesson learn, maybe one i needed to learn because the naive teenage girl is now a grown ass women with a story to tell and knowledge NOT misery to share.

    and will I ever tell no i mean allow him to find out about the substitute who helped me remember how beautiful and worthy i am?! naw i won’t, because my “good girl” image doesn’t deserve to be shattered!!!! it wouldn’t have never been a him if there wasn’t so many hers…. so I’m going to continue to be satisfied in letting you wallow in the thought of “damn even after all that she stood by me and never stepped out, I really fucked up”….. besides the number one rule to the game is DON’T FUCK UP HOME and you did!! so i’m not going to give him the satisfaction of feeling like his actions were justified because i was fucking around too or that I’m really not the girl he thought I was. Because honestly i was more than a good girl i was the best girl… the honey “you better than me” girl…. but hey its life it’s a lesson, i’ve learned and still learning and that is why i’m here now sipping this glass of whine and fucking venting on Short Lines and Small Circles with no tears or regrets about anything… LOL…. damn I really went in but right now i needed this …. i’ve been MIA for a minute but I came back to a dope one….. see what you make people do when you’re such a good writer… LOL

  3. I felt this story. I feel like it was written to all women at some point in their relationship experiences. It may not hit home directly but the similes and metaphors paint a picture of the devotion and pain we all share.

    Boo write a freakin book! I will endorse 🙂

  4. Damn that’s was kinda deep. “I just couldn’t help it”..the story of every mans actions…but when women have those moments smh they deep just like this smh. That shit hurt to hear about it if ya girlfriend too :-(. Shit be uglier than a master P sneaker.

  5. NOW THIS BLOG RIGHT HERE can be summed up with one word… PHENOMENAL!!!! You hit every nook cranny of my past/ still dealin’ with this nigga relationship( if that makes sense) lol. I am so glad you decided to publish this one because it puts me at ease to see other women who can relate. DEFINITELY feelin’ this !!!!!!!!! Not to mention Nae’s comments as well! 😀

  6. Pingback: not telling. « Short Lines & Small Circles

  7. So I read this and I was at the edge of my seat wondering what was next! I feel this girl and I too have been in her shoes! Only difference with my story is that he didn’t accept what he had done to me so many times before. Where do you go from there?what do youdo when you the man that you had accepted and forgave for all his impurities and infidelities doesn’t do the same for you? How could that be? What was so different from what you did to me, to what I did to you? Was it that my love was real and yours fake? Did you not love me the way I loved you? Or were you to fucking selfish to look beyond what I had done, just as I had done so many times in the past?

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