Never Satisfied: Do Men Know What They Want? (32 page)

“Momma, I told you not to tell her.”

“Girl, your momma can’t keep a secret,” Carolyn laughed. “If you want something broadcast to Europe, just tell your mother and watch the ten o’clock news the next day.”

“Carolyn you’d better be glad my daughter is in here,” my mother responded. “Otherwise, I would tell you to kiss my ass.”

“Let’s not get off the subject,” Aunt Dorothy said. “Tell us about him.”

I wanted to run out of the kitchen, but being allowed to hang out with the girls was too much to give up. And besides, you know how young girls like to boast about their boyfriends. So I leaned back against the counter, poked out what little chest I had and started bragging.

“Well, since you insist, “I said. “Let me give you the scoop. He’s a senior, his family owns their own business, and he’s as fine as Boris Kodjoe.”

“Oh my goodness, you’d better put a chastity belt on her Joanne!” Carolyn shouted. “Her panties are on fire.”

“Yeah, Sis, I think you need a drink,” Dorothy said while comically pouring my mother a glass of water. “Puberty has finally kicked in.”

My mother just looked at me and smiled. She knew I wasn’t a loose young woman. And she and my father trusted Jason not to pressure me. But shortly after the jokes stopped, the education started.

“So what are you going to do when he starts fooling around on you?” Carolyn asked.

“Get rid of his butt,” I declared.

“Is that right? And then what?”

“And then I’ll find a man who’s not going to cheat on me.”

They all busted out laughing. My mother spilled her water and Carolyn damn near fell out of her chair. Aunt Dorothy walked over to me, and sympathetically put her hands around my shoulders. “Baby, ain’t no such thing as a man who don’t cheat?”

“Amen to that,” my mother added.

At that moment the phone rang; it was Jason. After excusing myself from all the playful teasing, I went into my room to talk. We had plans to get together later that evening, but he said he couldn’t make it.

As usual, I didn’t complain. But I must admit that the idea of him cheating on me did enter my mind. A seed had been planted in my head about trusting men, or should I say,
not
trusting them. And it still affects me ‘til this day.

Growing up watching my older brother David cheat on his girlfriends also had an impact on me. He and his friend Chris would talk about women as if they were toys to be used and thrown away. And since I saw them as fairly decent men, I figured whatever they had to say was representative of most men, including Jason. One day, not long after Aunt Dorothy’s lecture, I dipped in on a conversation they were having on the porch. Needless to say, I was more attentive than ever.

“So what’s up with that young lady you met at that club a couple of weeks ago?” Chris asked.

“You mean Debbie?”

“Yeah, whatever happened to her?”

“She’s still around, but I don’t think she’s gonna make the cut.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, for one thing, she asks too many questions. And secondly, she’s not giving it up!”

That really made me mad. They had some nerve dissing that poor girl just because she wouldn’t have sex. And if she had screwed him on the first date, they would have called her a slut. Why are men like that? I angrily contemplated. What really bothered me was the thought that Jason might possibly start feeling the same way about my holding out. How long do I have before he dumps me for some whorish college student? He was graduating next year and I would still be a skinny high school girl. For the moment I put those thoughts aside and continued to take notes.

“What about that little chick you met at the skating rink?” my brother asked.

“Oh, you’re talking about Rhonda,” Chris said sounding cocky. “She’s on her J-O-B.”

“You mean she’s in your B-E-D,” my brother laughed as they slapped five.

“Yeah, she could definitely be a keeper, if only she would stop coming over while she’s on her period.”

“Man, don’t you just hate that?”

“That’s alright though, I’ve figured out when her time of the month is. I’ll just put off our dates until I know it’s over. Which reminds me, I need to run to the store to pick up that new iPad. Let’s roll down to Best Buy!”

Those words cut through me like a hot knife through butter. Was Jason avoiding me for the same reasons? I wondered. There was only one-way to be sure. I tiptoed away from the back door and ran upstairs to check my calendar. Like most young women, I kept track of every event from our first kiss to our last argument. If there was any relationship between canceled dates and my menstrual cycle, I would find it. And sure enough, there it was in black and white.

He called me the day before my period to cancel our dates for the last three months. My heart dropped, and my eyes watered. “I can’t believe Jason played me like this,” I cried. This was the turning point in my attitude towards men. I had completely bought into the “All men are dogs” theory. The way I saw it there was only one thing left for me to do, secure mine.

Within three months, I was popping birth control pills like Tic Tacs and having sex. I was determined to hold on to Jason at all costs, which I did long enough to get married to him. I was 21 years old in third year of college, and he was 23 and about to graduate. What a fairy tale relationship right? Wrong! Five years of marriage and two beautiful children later and Jason was still up to his same old tricks of putting me off to see other women. He was real smooth with it too. Not once in seven years did I ever find any physical evidence of his cheating, but there were plenty of other signs that he was out creepin’. On Saturday afternoons for example, he always refused to take the kids with him when he claimed to only be going shopping. Then there were the Masonic meetings that lasted for five hours on Friday night. When I went over to my mother’s house to express how I felt, she went into her usual speech about keeping the family together at all cost.

“Mom, I don’t know if I can handle much more of Jason’s game playing.”

“What exactly do you mean sweetheart?”

“Come on Mom, you know what I mean, his affairs. And I mean affairs with a capital S.”

“Look baby, I know Jason isn’t perfect, but he is a good man. Doesn’t he provide well for his son and daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t he come in at a decent hour?”

“Yes momma, but—”

“But nothing child,” she said as she stopped cooking and came to sit down at the table. “You’ve got to learn that a man is going to be a man. And as long as he’s giving you your respect, you’ve got to leave him alone and concentrate on keeping the family together.”

“Giving me my respect!” I shouted. Every time he leaves the house to see one of his whores he’s disrespecting me. Why should it make any difference because I don’t have fingerprints or videotape? I know damn well when my husband is cheating,”

“Keep your voice down, Karen,” she said while gesturing with her hands. “Your father is right downstairs.”

“Good, maybe he’ll get the hint and stop messing around on you.”

Smack! In one motion she leaned across the table and slapped me dead in the mouth.

“You watch your mouth when you talk to me, young lady. I’m still your mother!” she shouted. “Don’t you worry about how with your father. We’ve managed to stay together for twenty-six years and put two kids through college. When you can say the same, then you can stand in judgment of me.”

I sat there in total shock with tears pouring down my face. That was the first time she had ever laid a hand on me since I was twelve. Without saying a single word, I stood up from the table, and grabbed my coat, and headed for the door. By this time she was crying too. I’m sure she was as stunned as I was by what had happened. As I walked out the door, she tried to apologize. “I’m sorry Karen, I just want you to be happy.” I looked back at her barely able to speak and mumbled, “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you for years.”

During the twenty-minute ride home, I reflected on what my mother said. But no matter how hard I tried to make sense of it, I couldn’t. There was no way in hell I was going to spend the rest of my life sharing my husband, and seven years of marriage and two kids didn’t mean a damn thing to me. I wanted love and trust out of my relationship, and I wasn’t getting either. “This must all end,” I declared. “I’m sick and tired of waiting, worrying, and crying over this man.” It was time to stop playing the fool. After wiping my face and blowing my nose, I decided the next time he slipped up would be his last. All I needed was one tiny reason to explode. That opportunity came two weeks later during the Fourth of July barbecue at my mom’s house.

I hadn’t’ spoken to my mother since the incident took place. When Jason and I arrived with the kids, she quickly ushered me aside and apologized for everything that happened. Like most women, we got all sentimental and started crying. I’m sure everyone was wondering what all the drama was about, but this was strictly between mother and daughter. Once the entire family was there, we sat down to eat. As usual, the food was outstanding. My mother really knows how to put her foot in some collard greens and potato salad.

After everyone was full, the family split into three groups. The kids went outside, the women gathered in the living room, and the men flocked to the basement. It wasn’t long before Carolyn and Aunt Dorothy went into their act about no good men. Needless to say, I wasn’t in the mood, so I went into the kitchen to refill my drink. Right away I noticed the door to the basement was wide open. As I went to close it, I could hear my drunk brother and husband boasting loudly about their sexual escapades. I just stood there and took it all in.

“Man, it’s impossible for any man to be right with so many temptations out there.” My brother said.

“Who are you tellin’? Jason agreed. “Just last week a woman came into the office wearing a skirt so short half her ass was showing.”

“Did you inform her that her attire was inappropriate for corporate America?”

“Hell no, I complimented her on the outfit and asked for her phone number.”

The room exploded with laughter. I could hear the customary high fives and foot stomping. But they weren’t through putting their feet in their mouths.

“What about the sex drives some of these young women have?” My horny 45-year-old Uncle Frank joked. “This 23-year-old filly I just met damn near threw my back out at the motel last night.”

“Well at least she’s working hard to please her man,”

Jason said. “That’s one thing I can honestly say about these women on the side; they serve you better than your own wife.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I slammed my glass on the counter and rushed downstairs with smoke coming out my ears.

“You all have a lot of damn nerve bragging about your whores right under the same roof as your wives. I have never seen such disrespect. Daddy, you should be ashamed. And as for you Jason, let me educate you about real life before I divorce your no good ass. Sex at home has responsibility. I have two kids to raise, a house to clean, and a lazy man to clean up after. Not to mention school and work.”

“Hold on baby, let me explain.”

“Shut the hell up, I’m not finished yet!” I shouted. “And if you would have just once offered to cook breakfast, wash a dish, or take care of the kids for just one morning, I would’ve given you the fuck of your life, but no. You preferred to rush out of the house to do your business elsewhere, fine! From now on let your part time slut take on some full time responsibility and let’s see how desirable she is in six months.”

I stormed upstairs, told my mother I was leaving and got my kids together. Jason tried to stop me but one look into my eyes and he could see I was on the verge of seriously going off. He wisely took his ass back into the house while my mother helped me to the car. Once the kids were strapped in and I was preparing to pull off, she suddenly reached inside the car and gave me a firm hug. “You were right baby,” she confessed. “You do deserve better. Call me if you need help getting settled.” I kissed her goodbye and drove away with my two kids to start a new life. As I headed for home, confident that I had made the right decision, I looked in the rear view mirror at my kids playing in the back seat. I swore right then and there to teach them to take marriage commitment more seriously than their father did. I promised to raise my son to cherish and respect women. And as for my daughter, I vowed not to create another victim, so help me God.

For too many women in or society, leaving their cheating husbands and boyfriends is not an option. Again, they are too afraid of being alone to seriously confront him and issue an ultimatum—“Either stop fooling around or it’s over!” This is the warning which should be coming out of the mouths of fed-up women, but doesn’t. Instead they remain quiet, hoping and praying their man will grow up or slow down long enough to realize he has a good thing at home. However, most men are convinced the grass is greener on the other side of town, at least green enough to go grazing in once or twice a week. They have become bored conversationally and sexually with their mates and feel compelled to seek satisfaction elsewhere. “I need a change,” they declare. But the person who really needs a change is the faithful wife or girlfriend, a change of men to be exact.