October 24, 2018

I went through a break up with my kids father after 12 years. He was manipulative, controlling and abusive. Through all the threats, stalking, prank calls, a few busted apartment windows and a 2 year order of protection, I knew it was time to put my big girl boots on and leave. Besides, I was only 24. I wanted to live “my best life". I was ready to start “selectively” dating a year after my break up and “level up”. I figured I knew all the signs of a “fuck boy” and I would be sure to go on the right path.

 It was 2 AM on a Saturday night when I was riding down empty streets, not a soul in sight, listening to the sounds of 90's R&B. Every now and then I would be paranoid driving because I didn't have license nor insurance, so i made sure I had my seat belt on (which I never do) and drove a little under the speed limit (which I never do). However, that was enough to ride in confidence.
Sitting at a red light, I saw a car slowly approaching through my rearview mirror hoping it wasn't the cops. I could hear the sound of bass over my slow tempo music. I instantly had a sigh of relief that it wasn't the cops. I attempted to avoid looking to my left but the red light seemed to be taking forever to turn green. My eyes slowly glanced downward at the rims which were as shiny as my lip gloss in the 5th grade. Then I noticed the car was as white as snow on the first day of winter. I've never seen a car so clean! To my surprise, the guys were trying to get my attention with hand movements to roll down my window. The passenger was a dread head. He had on a watch, glistening with diamonds that seemed to reflect off my glasses as his arm was hanging off the ledge of the window. The driver was dark as midnight so the grill in his mouth was obvious but it was hard to see him from that damn watch of the passenger.
Through red light conversation, I found out they were not from the city and only came to support a new rising artist from the South. They would be leaving town in the morning. I decided to give my number to the passenger, but in my head all I could hear was, “No, I don't want no scrubs…hanging out the passenger's side of his best friend's ride, trying to holler at me.”…But I also told myself not to jump to conclusions.
Anxiously, I waited the next day to receive a phone call. Will he call? Did he think I was attractive? Or was this just a late night routine? The feeling was very similar to the morning of Christmas, waiting to scrape through presents. From the looks of things, he had to be “somebody” and I was ready to start asking questions.
My phone rings and number from out of the area shows on my screen. It was him!! Or so I thought... It was the driver. So, it WAS him!! Meaning, lowkey, the driver was the one I found interest in. It was his car that made me assume he had to have the money. He told me his name was “Coka” but to call him by his government name, Ralph. I felt special.
I was confused why Ralph decided to call, so upon my questions, I asked what happened to the dread head. Ralph totally threw him under the bus, stating he had a girlfriend and he was tipsy and didn't even remember me. Ralph decided to take it in his own hands and tell me I was “cute”. I found out he traveled often for work, but his hobby was rapping. He stated that the new rising artist was a family member and that he goes on tour with him, which was why he was in the city.
“Send me a pic,” he said. Although I didn't like sending pics, I searched through my pics trying to find the best one. I sent a semi-revealing pic, awaiting his approval!
“Damn, girl, you fine as hell,” he texted back.
Soon, I received pics of him with money flashing, designer clothes, and different cars. He also sent multiple tracks he recorded and to my surprise, Ralph was pretty good. This made me like him even more.
I texted back.
“When can we hang out?” I made up my mind I was giving him the pussy, I don't care. 


After a month of talking to Ralph consistently, we set a date and I was off to see Ralph in a different city. Upon arriving to the hotel room, I immediately noticed it wasn't to par of Ralph's appearance, but ignored it. I approach him with a smile as wide as the open skies and a hug as firm as a professional handshake. I told Ralph I wanted to shower due to the long commute. I got out of the shower with a towel covering my sexy lingerie. I laid next to him feeling comfortable in his arms. I softly started maneuvering the tips of my fingers down his neck to his chest down to his stomach, innocently avoiding his genitals but intending sexual acts. He gently moved on top of me, kissing me with passion, softly sucking my kitties. I can hear his masculine moans as he relaxed my body from vibrations and finally downward to my vagina. I came. Ralph slid into me slowly seeming as if his length never ended until it touched the top of my stomach. I came.
How did this happen? Wait, what I am doing? I barely know him.


Needless to say, he satisfied me sexually, this is too good to be true! We mutually, made the decision to have a long distant relationship.


Months afterwards, I received a call from Ralph, frantically stating he lost his wallet and he is unable to get on his flight. He asked if I could send him the money and when he touched down, he'd send it back to me. I didn't hesitate. Ralph never sent me the money and I felt kind of bad asking if he could return the funds. If he was this guy with all this money, consistently going on trips, dressed in designer clothes and switching cars every city he went to, why wouldn't he just offer to give it back. It's not like it was going to hurt his pockets. I started to feel like there were some inconsistencies and started paying attention. Conversations turned into interrogations and the more I asked questions, my woman intuition kicked in over and over. I went to social media.

I found nothing initially, so I started googling his artist name. A video popped up. “Aayyee, that's my shit! Hold up. Who is that guy on the cover art of his track on YouTube. Oh whatever, people use different photos all the time." I kept scrolling until I ran into a song of his that I was familiar with. There was a video! I wonder why he didn't tell me he had a video for this track. I clicked on it. That's not Ralph!


Upon further investigation, I found links to this guy's Instagram. He's from the same place as Ralph. I even found a video of him recording the track Ralph sent me. I contacted the Artist and informed him of this guy pretending to be him, he was flattered. Ralph voluntarily cat-fished himself as an artist! But why? 


Ralph wanted to live the life of his “soon to blow” relative. Ralph paid for fake followers, none of the cars were his, the money was fake, and the designer clothes were most likely corner store knock-offs. Ralph was a lot younger than me, which I stumbled upon his more personal Facebook page showing high school graduation dates. He lived with his momma and made up a bunch of lies to leach off of women.


When I confronted Ralph, he denied everything!
Going through this experience, made me realize I didn't know all the signs of a “fuck boy." In my case, just because they don't show signs of being an abuser doesn't mean they are good men. I also realized, material possessions can blind you from the love you really deserve. No more looking at his shoes, clothes, wondering what kind of car he drives or friend zoning him because he's “nice”. It's ok to be single, get to know yourself, self love is key. Set standards for these men and don't abuse your womb (pussy) until you know that man is ready to build.
A couple weeks later, Ralph called like nothing ever happened, my only response was……
Boy Bye!!


I would like to stay anonymous. I think this is a ratchet ass story and umm yeah nobody should know how I once got down lol However, I'm a jack of all trades that can't be summed up. I'm an artist, full time mommy, an aspiring economist, a believer in Black Pride and soon to be Podcast Host! Thank you ladies for reading my story, hope you enjoy!


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