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There were only a few good things that came out of my going to school in Atlanta They included meeting my four best friends and getting my degree. But let’s face it, after my parents built that dorm, it was a shoo in I’d be graduating…with honors. Hey, I love nepotism.
It really didn’t matter where they sent me. I say they because college was my parent’s idea. They thought if they sent me to college, it would cool me down. Please, I didn’t go to school to have sex. The only person I wanted to have sex with was Benny. And he made sure I was more than taken care of every summer.
I went to college to recuperate from my summer freakfest with Benny, and to secure my inheritance. I may be the only child, but if I screwed up too badly, my inheritance could have easily been given away. Or even worse, managed by a team of lawyers. I wasn’t having that!
After graduating, I took a little time off in Mexico. I was still distraught over not getting my Benny summer fix. I don’t remember much, except for a lot of reefer and waking up naked in my hotel room with a goat in the bathroom. To this day, I haven’t got a clue what I was doing with a goat. Whatever happened, was incentive enough to get me to go home.
Once I was safely back at Jacobs Jail, that’s how I used to refer to my parents’ house, I slipped back into my old habits, sans the weed and goat. Okay, it’s not like I did a lot of reefer. I only did it for my nerves. As a result of a little self-medicating and driving a little erratically, I was pulled over. When the officer approached the car and looked at me, I tried to blame my driving and slightly dilated eyes on too much cold medicine. I think I would have gotten away with it, except he ran my plates and all those tickets showed up.
The officer impounded my car and took me to jail. I called my dad and he refused to pick me up. I was a guest of the county jail for almost two weeks. Thanks to some family connections, I wasn’t in gen pop, thank God. When I got out, my dad gave me two options...I could work for him or for my mother. I countered…I would have been an excellent lawyer, and asked for money for my own company. He countered and said I could take over one of my mother’s companies or be cut off.
“Cut off”…dirty words. I agreed to his proposal. I told my friends I was at a spa those eleven days I was in jail. In a way it was true. I was on a strict diet and exercise program, doing a lot of meditating…code for limited contact with the outside world. Okay, I embellished a little.
Is that my worst secret? I don’t think so. But then again, I did spend a month in Mexico high on reefer running around with goat. Man, I wish I could remember what happened to that goat.
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So what’s my secret? I don’t have just one secret, I have many. But the one that could hurt me the most, is the one that also brought me the most pleasure. If only I could blame what happened on the reefer and that goat.
TAYLOR
I…AM TAYLOR RICHARDS. THE way I said that made me sound so full of myself. Trust me, I am a very humble and compassionate person. Ask my friends, and they’ll tell you I am very loyal. Now I sound like a dog.
Let’s start over. I understand we’re supposed to be sharing about ourselves and our friendship.
My best friends…that’s easy. Chloe was my college roommate. Alex is my cousin, and I met Dionne and Kendell at college through Alex. Kendell and I call each other cousins, because we’re both related to Alex. Alex and I are the daughters of two brothers. Kendell’s father and my Aunt Connie are half-siblings. It was just a lot easier to say we’re cousins…that’s how Alex introduces us. That’s the long and the short version as far as I’m concerned.
I’m the only one of my girlfriends who's divorced, and I am proud of it. Not that I’m happy my marriage failed, but I’m proud I was strong enough to leave a toxic situation.
My girlfriends refer to me as the wild one in the group. Just because I like to have a good time and date younger men. That doesn’t make me some wild cougar. I am merely playing the hand I’ve been dealt. It’s quite simple. I have been blessed to not look my age. I also have the energy of women half my age. Thank God for good genetics, because I have no desire to be injected or surgically altered. I don’t have a problem working out, because a sister loves some good cornbread and mac and cheese, but I’m not a gym bunny.
I know it seems no matter what I say I come off a little shallow. Trust me, I’m not. I just have a lot of confidence and fabulous self-esteem.
My girlfriends aren’t quite sure what to think about me and I don’t care. They know that if and when the crap hits the fan, I’m there for them. I live in Atlanta and they live in Cali. I told them I keep a packed bag, emergency bail cash and a gun at the ready.
Why younger men? Simple. They aren’t trying to compete, but learn. Like my latest companion, Jason Burke. I’m sorry, I got a little side tracked. Baby boy is a gorgeous, tall, brown skinned, bald delight of a man, secure enough in his manhood to date an older woman. He’s a very successful hedge fund manager who loves God, jazz, art, traveling and cooking. Good bones. He’s definitely something I can work with. We’ve been seeing each other for six months, which for me, is more like five years.
Unlike my girlfriends, I’m not sure if marriage is something I want to do again. I’ve seen and experienced it, and there are things about it I don’t particularly care for. Like explaining where I’ve been when I’m not with him, or why I spend so much money on clothes. Or, his thinking just because I’m a female, I’m weak and need a man to take care of me.
Some of the married people I know refer to marriage as if it were a business arrangement, while others make it sound like prison. Neither of which interests me. I like not having to answer to anyone. And I don’t want someone calling me twelve times a day for no reason.
Let me explain. If you’re calling me that much, you aren’t making money. I look at work as making money. So yes, there are exceptions and reasons for your not working and having all of this free time to talk to me. But, it had better not be because you didn’t have anything else to do. If you have set yourself up where you don’t have to work, that’s a good thing. However, I don’t want you tying up my phone with calls from you. And don’t give me that line about wanting to hear my voice. If you are so in awe of my voice, I’ll make you a recording of my voice and you can listen to it all day.
Okay, hear me out. If you call someone that much during the day, what are you going to talk about when you see each other? Trust me, absence does make the heart grow fonder. If you don’t believe me, don’t call your significant other for a couple of days, and see if you won’t hear excitement in their voice when you say hello. Honey, it’s a high like no other. In that respect, I’m a lot like a guy. I’ll go out with you on Monday and won’t need to hear from you for a couple of days. And you need to keep the texting and emails to a minimum. I don’t need my communication devices loaded up with a lot of foolishness from you. Keep your communication simple and sparse. I’m a busy woman, and I don’t have time and room in my life for a needy man.
I was married for a hot second, and it was one of the worst mistakes of my life. I moved to Savannah after college, and shortly thereafter I was married. I refer to it as my idiot head phase. All of my girlfriends told me not to get married, but I didn’t listen. Jerry was a complete idiot head.
Have you heard the saying, “the village called and they want their idiot back"? Well, my e
x-husband had the ringer on his phone turned off, so he never got the call to go back to the village There should be a law about letting ignorant people run wild amongst the normal ones. Or at least, make sure they have some sort of indicator, alarm, GPS, or an ankle bracelet you can zap when they start speaking to normal people.
I believe his mother knew something wasn’t right with him But I believe she was so happy he found a woman who seemed to adore him, she never disclosed any of his faults. Like a dummy, I agreed to marry him after only six months of dating. I thought my prayer had been answered. Be careful what you pray for, because if you pray right you’re likely to get it. I asked God for a nice, Christian man, with a good heart, a career and no children. Fine, but I forgot to include, intelligent, good sense, and no Mama drama. I took for granted those things would be included. Then, because I’m a good thing, I did what God said and waited to be found.
What I failed to realize was, Jerry didn’t find me, I found him, at the car wash. This fool managed the car wash. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with working at a car wash. He had a plan. Learn the inner workings of the car wash so he could open his own. A man with a plan. NOT! More like a man looking for a sponsor.
Once we started dating and he saw how well I was doing, he convinced me if we were married, a mobile car detailing business would be more profitable than a car wash. To do that, he would need to devote all of his time to acquiring clients. And, the best way to do that would be to go out every day to offices and offer free detailing. This meant he wouldn’t be making any money in the beginning and I would have to support us. I said yes to his proposal and we set a wedding date. My girlfriends flew down to Savannah for the wedding, and even as we were preparing to walk down the aisle, they kept asking me if I was sure about marrying Jerry. I had convinced them, and myself, that he was the one. Everything was going great until eight months later, when the magic wore off and I came to my senses. I came home from work one day and found him sitting on the sofa scratching and belching, and something inside of me snapped.
“You have got to go", I yelled.
