Dating Advice from a Mawhore
Our stories in this world begin with nothing but our bare bodies and a slap on the behind, and, if we’re lucky, they will end in the same fashion in which they began. The individuals, however, that fill the pages of our lives with love, hope, pain, inspiration, and faithfulness are what make life worth living. All that matters in the end are the lives you’ve touched, the people you’ve helped grow and the people who have helped you strive to be a better human being. So, to those who have filled the chapters of my life, past, present, and future, I dedicate this book and I thank you for being a part of my story.
Then There’s Sylvester
“It’s strange how we find the best of friends in the most unexpected of people.” – Aly Hunter
It has been my truth, especially in my adult life, that friends can be, and often are, more essential than family. In fact, I’ve come to believe that family is not so much what you are born into, but what you create for yourself. Those people, who choose to be there for you, love you, help shape your world and criticize you in the most constructive of ways without the biological bond of blood to tie them to you are, in my opinion, of the utmost importance.
That being said, I have been extremely blessed to have a number of very close friends; not so much so on the family front. I have a relationship with very few blood relatives. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not all bad. It has simply been my reality that those with whom I am not related have been significantly more supportive of me than those that share my DNA.
Now, when I say “very close friends” I’m talking about people that I’ve known, in some cases, more than half of my lifetime. These are people that I love, wholeheartedly. I often refer to them as my brothers and sisters. My child calls them her aunties and uncles. They are, by all accounts, more of a family to me than my “real” family has ever been. I go to them with, and for, everything from happy news to advice, and they’ve always come through for me.
Each one of these people is unique in what they bring to my world. I knew, from the first time I met each and every one of them, that they were people I wanted to be around, habitually. I’m a firm believer that, if the people in your circle don’t elevate you in some way, they don’t need to be in your circle. Each of my close friends inspires me, makes me desire to be a better person, mother, wife, businesswoman, etc. and, in turn, I believe that I do the same for them.
When I need advice, I naturally go to different friends for different things as they all bring different experiences to the table. Traci and Autumn are great for parenting advice. Alicia is perfect for friendship advice. Brodie is someone you can always call for help. Devoya is a PR, business and career guru, and an all-around beautiful soul.
Then there’s Sylvester – the bane of my existence.
I have known Sylvester since I was in my teens and, since that time, we’ve had an interesting relationship, to say the least. When he made his first appearance on my scene we weren’t exactly fans of one another. He thought I was annoying, unnecessarily happy, aloof and naïve. I found him to be crude, distasteful, disrespectful and a thorough irritation to my everyday life.
He was my then boyfriend, Joseph’s, best friend. Joseph summoned Sylvester to California from a small town just outside of Chicago, like a little demon whose primary mission was to ruin my day.
When we first met, I noticed his big attitude and small stature were completely mismatched and I immediately hated every inch of his little 5’5” frame. He walked into the house like his name was on the deed, constantly doing things here and there just for the sake of getting under my skin and, it worked.
We did everything we could to avoid each other in the big house on Delaney street. Thankfully, because of the sheer size of the structure that wasn’t a very difficult feat. Unfortunately, we would regularly find ourselves in the studio together collaborating with one of the many people who populated the same circle we found ourselves in. This was an often irritating, but not completely unbearable situation until I began to feel his beady little eyes staring at the back of my head. I would constantly hear him snickering under his breath like some character out of “Mean Girls” about a comment I made or something else I inexorably did to annoy him. Like a child, he would walk by me and tug on my hair or kick at my foot if I walked in front of him. Clearly, our feelings of disgust with one another were mutual.
I would often bring, or cook food for our friends in the house. Being the sweet young woman that I was I would include a plate for Sylvester, but not without first fantasizing about adding something dreadful to his dish. The thought of him clinging to the toilet in agony for hours on end made a smile curl across my lips on more than one occasion. I never did it, though I wanted to.
His constant snarky remarks towards me didn’t help make the temptation of poisoning him with rotten meat any less intense. If only he knew how close I was to giving him a bad case of the runs, he would have been more intent on keeping his mouth shut. Luckily, for him, I’m significantly more sinister in my mind than I am in real life
I would daydream about some ailment coming his way. Anything to get him out of my hair. Alone time with my boyfriend was a thing of the past since Sylvester came to town. He was like a mustard stain on my pristine, white, perfectly pressed Donna Karan blouse.
I tried several times to get rid of Sylvester. Not like, “Sopranos” get rid of him, but I wanted to get him to go somewhere, as long as it was away from me. I would do things like give him money to go get pizza for everyone just to get him out of my hair for a moment. Once I figured out that he was a chronic womanizer I began to try to set him up with my classmates and other female acquaintances that I didn’t particularly care for. Luckily, he would frequently get caught up in long phone conversations with his various conquests and I could finally get a reprieve from his presence.
Sadly, these tiny victories were short-lived and inevitably, he’d return, more cantankerous and contentious than ever before.
I would look to my boyfriend to intervene and send Sylvester to his room. Unfortunately, Joseph wasn’t a very good mediator. He would just as soon let us fight it out like a couple of adolescent pitbulls than attempt to make peace between us. He was an incredibly self-absorbed individual. I’m sure the idea of his best friend and his girlfriend fighting for his favor made him feel like Stella, after she got her groove back.
He would even go so far as to pit us against one another. Telling me one thing and Sylvester another was apparently his norm. Sadly, at the time I was unaware of the immorality of his character, as was my nemesis, Sylvester.
Interestingly enough, Sylvester wasn’t just playing the role of the annoying little fly on the wall. He was paying more attention to the comings and goings of everyone in that house than any of us realized.
Eventually, he recognized that what he was being told wasn’t adding up and began to see things as they truly were. Our everyday lives were being muddied by little untruths thrown about to add more flavor to our otherwise salty existence for nothing more than Joseph’s entertainment.
He began to see the character flaws and stories that we were being fed. I, blinded by what my teenage brain believed to be love, didn’t catch on so quickly. Sylvester was right, I was naïve and he didn’t hesitate to tell me about myself, but he did it in a most unexpected way.