The 42 Fake

There’s this one line in the movie called, “A Bronx Tale”, that basically says “generally a man is given three great women in his lifetime.” I always figured that if that statement was in fact true, then I wonder what would be the number of bad women one might be given in his lifetime then? Back in my heyday, I used to date this girl that I’ll refer to by the name of Z. Now Z, was the niece of a very famous comedian. Which is so ironic because this particular story ended up being pretty funny and the craziest thing is that the joke might of actually been on me, but I’ll get to that shortly. Now, as far as Z was concerned and to my surprise we ended up getting extremely close in a very short period of time. It wasn’t any secret that we had developed some serious feelings for each other. We did the boyfriend girlfriend thing for about 18 months. From the outside looking in, it was just like any normal relationship, but just like anything else, everything has an expiration date.

We decided to call it quits because she ended up moving out the state to pursue a career as a Mortician. Not sure if I was more confused about her wanting to earn a living embalming the dead or that I missed the signs that she had a hidden agenda to leave and that I was the last to find out. Well even so, we kept in touch for a few weeks while she was away,  but after a while we eventually stopped all communication. It wasn’t until about three months later that she ended up contacting me to let me know things weren’t working out down there and that she was beyond unhappy,  but there was a chance she was moving back home in a few weeks. She told me she wanted to get together when she got back because she had somethings she wanted to talk to me about.
Once she arrived back in town, she moved back in with her mother so she could have a chance to get back on her feet. A few weeks earlier I had just moved into a one bedroom apartment but between the full time job I had and also moonlighting as a part time criminal, I was never really there . After a while, I ended up saying to her “You know I’m hardly at the apartment most days but if you want, you can chill their when I’m gone and that way you would have some privacy and maybe get some things in order.” Ok, all bullshit aside I had my own hidden agenda too and since I still had feelings for this girl and now that she was finally back my judgement and rational may have been somewhat clouded, but I took it as a sign nevertheless.

We both kinda came and went in and out the apartment as we pleased at first, so it really wasn’t a ton of pressure on either one of us. This little charade went on for about 45 days I would reckon. She gave me money towards the rent I had and even kept my refrigerator full of food. I know what you’re probably thinking? How could you not see it coming? She was plotting on you man!! Maybe so, but I suppose the only excuse is, plausible deniability.

Then one sunny day, it finally happened, Z stopped me on my way out the door and said “Hey, I wanted to know what your thoughts were about me moving in?, I mean we’ve been getting things back on track lately and I am happy we’re making a lot of progress I’m ready to move forward with us, if you are?” This was music to my ears, and for a split second, in the back of my young perverted and dirty little mind, all I could think about was bottomless in-house intercourse, a few home cooked meals and thoughts of playing little house on the prairie with this lady.

At any rate, after she made her shocking statement to me, I stood there for a few moments expressionless, sort of like if Medusa had looked at me and turned me into stone, then I said to her, “let me think it over for a few and maybe we can talk about it when I get back later.” When I left that day, I pretty much knew what the answer was but I wasn’t quite ready to commit that fast. This was a big decision. Once I got back that night, we had the conversation, made a few agreements and I set a couple of boundaries that she would have to swear by. It took about two weeks for the transition but once it was in motion we kind of picked up right where we left off before she left.  In a sense, it started to appear as though this reunion was gonna sort itself out without much effort.

A few nights later, Z called me while I was at work and told me her girlfriend was coming over for a couple of hours to hang out and have a few drinks, but she wanted to know if I could call her before I left work because she might be hungry and may want me to stop and grab her a bite to eat before I got home. Now, here’s the thing ladies and gentlemen, I was born at night but not that night. We had a refrigerator full of food but I didn’t want to read to much into it, but my Spidey senses definitely went off. The whole scenario smelled fishy and had shady written all over it. This chick barely touches her food when we eat but now all of a sudden there’s a late night meal in the equation. “Yeah, that’s cool, I will call you when I’m on the road,” I said.

I had about two hours left to go before my shift ended but since work was slow that night they let us off early. Just in case you were wondering I never called her about the food , I just went straight home. When I finally got home and tried to park, there just so happened to be a minivan in my parking stall. Maybe her girlfriend is still here?,  I figured. Once I got to the front door, I fondled around for my house keys for a second or so and that’s when I remember hearing in the background very faintly, that old school chorus from the 90’s “Somebody rocking knocking the boots” by the R&B group H-Town. I opened the door and there she was in between some skinny ass legs giving some lucky guy some special treatment, if you know what I mean?

“Oh fucking shit” she says once the door opened, dumbfounded with a cock in her hand. Shocked and in utter disbelief, I tried to think of some cool shit to say as if I wasn’t blown out the water already(no pun intended). “No it’s cool stay there, you don’t have to move,” I just need to grab my shit out the room”. I go to the room, I guess in a effort to gather my thoughts about what I should do or how do I deal with this situation within those few seconds. I reach for the bedroom door knob to open it and it’s locked. “Who the fuck is in here,” I said. “Chris and Aleah,” she says. Ok, so I got one random dude on my couch getting his knob polished by this harlot and soon to be ex-everything and her friend with another random dude more than likely performing some unknown sex acts in my bedroom. Now tell me what the fuck am I supposed to do?

To be continued….

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