Chapter 6 - The End of Big Crazy
It wasn't the charm. He was devoid of the use of charm. His looks insinuated charm.
That's different.
I put up with his lack of charm, lack of social skills, lack of lack of care for lacking these things. I put up with the stories that he was in the army, modeled, invested in clubs, sold narcotics and had random capers that he "couldn't get me involved with..too dangerous."
Yes.. I understood that it was all complete bullshite. Arse tales. Poop talk.
I put up with it for the amazing sex.
I put up with the terrible taste in music, the lack of alcohol tolerance...
I ignored all of my male friends jokes, taunts and hatred.
They were all right. He was corny, I knew it. He was unable to make one single friend out of any of my cronies. Not a one.
In recording sessions at my house, he would annoyingly fall asleep, snoring loudly. They all looked like they wanted to murder him. Every single time. They looked at me, rolled eyes, said a lot of "fuck OUTTA here with THIS nigga..Jean.. what the fuck?"
I said a lot of "I knoooow... I knoooow.. just.... ok.. ok. I know .. I'm sorry."
Couple of months. I just dealt with it.
When we went to clubs, the night ALWAYS ended with us getting kicked out. His shirt off, his brother dragging him out of the door.. Me grabbing everyones personal belongings from whatever booth or area we were sitting in.
This was all after the INTENSE grinding and "dancing" he insisted on inflicting upon my body.
It was like dance assault.
If the "staff only" cabin in "Dirty Dancing" had been in New York, in the 1990's, with an open Henny bar, at the Puerto Rican Day Parade.... that would be the most accurate description of our dancing experience.
It hurt.
If I stopped dancing with him for two seconds, there would be a swarm of women panting and jockeying for dancing position.
It was like protecting a baby from wolves.
An intoxicated, violent sexy baby, with no scruples.
Fucking exhausting.
Did I mention the sex? Sigh.
When we went to eat, or to the movies, the female populations reaction was similar. Really tiring it was...
He was attentive, I never felt as if he was eyeballing others, not focusing on me at all. That didn't make it any less uncomfortable.
I dealt.
Until that day in the pizza shop.
We were in my neighborhood, at my favorite pizza spot. It was evening, we hadn't been drinking. I think we had actually stayed in bed the whole day.....because of the good sex having...you know.
He turned to me, with the garlic shaker in his hand and said, "So what the fuck were you doing in the Bronx?"
I said, "When? I don't go to the Bronx for anything. Why the fuck would I be in the Bronx?"
I turned, quizzical look plastered on my face, but mostly not too thrown off by the question...it was more that the tone was off putting.
BC: "That's what the fuck I'm asking you."
Me: "What's with the fucking cursing? For real, I wasn't in the Bronx. Who told you that?" laughing "Are you following me? Because you're following the wrong person."
I turned back around, grabbed my slice off the counter and walked out the door, shaking my head.
At this point I just thought he was kidding.
He followed my lead out, and grabbed my arm.
"So you married? You driving your husbands red Benz? What the fuck?"
I dropped my pizza and cursed, looking down before directing my attention to his stupid crazy face with its stupid crazy mouth, spouting the most unbelievable stupid crazy shit.
'Whaa ha hahaaat???" I sputtered, laughing.... "Hahahaa.. what? You're serious?"
The next 5 minutes, we spent standing on the corner arguing loudly.
His point was that his brother had apparently seen me. In the Bronx, with my rapper husband, driving said husbands red Benz. Why the fuck didn't I tell him I was married? What the fuck was wrong with me? I was a liar! LIAR! LIAR!
MY point, was that.. well.. HE WAS BEING INSANE. Married? NO. I DON'T EVEN DRIVE! I DON'T EVEN LIKE going to the Bronx!
"Are you trying to break up with me? Cause I can't figure out any other reason for this complete psychotic breakdown you're having... dude.. just break up with me. Please."
He watched him walk to his car and drive off. I went back in the pizza shop and ordered another slice, immediately getting on my phone to tell this insanity to someone. Whatever, man.
He texted me about an hour later, saying he had to be "back in the army..you know."
Yeah, I believe that's the notice that the army sends you as your call to duty.
"Come back to the army...for.. you know"
Right.
I ended the relationship with a text message that I still have not topped to this day.
"THE JIG IS UP. SUCK IT"
...and that, my friends.. is the tale of Big Crazy.
