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, Adam, is the wild child. You name it and he’s done it; drugs, alcohol. I recall Quentin saying something about his having slept with several of his sister’s friends, which she, nor his mother were too happy about. He completely changed when his best friend was killed in a car accident. At the funeral, he said the Spirit of God spoke to him and told him to teach His Word.
He left home and went to the seminary. He came back, worked with a local church and, a few years later, formed his own ministry. For our second date, Quentin took me to his brother’s church. It wasn’t until we got married that I became a member, mostly out of family loyalty. I liked my church but I wanted to show my support for my brother-in-law. The rest of the family stops by every now and then, but won’t join. His mother says they are very comfortable at their church and have too many obligations. She said it wouldn’t be fair to abandon their pastor. He’s ninety-five and reads the same three scriptures every week. Trust me, he doesn’t know if he has on matching shoes, let alone miss her meddling behind at the church bake sale.
I love my husband and I want him to be happy, but his mother is making it difficult. She makes it a point to mention his ex-girlfriend, Stacy, whenever she can. It’s no secret I’m not her choice for Quentin. She wanted someone she could control, but she got me. Because I’m quiet, people think I’m fragile, but I’m not. My friends say I’m a people pleaser, which explains my poor choice in men prior to Quentin. I thank God for using Alex to bring us together, because I probably would have ended up with I don’t know what.
I’m learning from my friend, Chloe, how to be a lot more aggressive and assertive. She says I need to explode every now and then. I’ve tried it at work, but I haven’t gotten up the nerve yet to let loose on my mother-in-law. Given the right situation, even the quietest of people have been known to snap. I just hope it’s not in private, because I need to let the family know I am nothing to be toyed with. That’s right, I am a strong, black woman. I can do all things through Christ Jesus who strengthens me. Once I actually get that in my spirit and believe it, my mother-in-law had better watch out. I will be taking names and kicking butt, and she’s number one on my list.
My mother-in-law only wants me around when it suits her needs. Step one in my plan to establish myself in this family, is to not be at Katherine’s beck and call any more. If she wants to talk to me, she needs to take a number and call me at a decent time. No more calling after nine-thirty. That’s Quentin and my time to reconnect.
And no more demanding we come over at a moment’s notice for a family gathering. I have a family, too, and we need to spend more time with them. And there will be no more talk about shooting me up with baby making juice. Quentin and I will get pregnant the old-fashioned way. If she has a problem with that, then she can talk to God.
And there will be no more talk about Quentin’s ex, Stacy. I’m his wife and she had better get used to it because I’m not going anywhere. And no more telling me once I get the house decorated she can host a fundraiser at our home. First of all, we like our home the way it is and, if we decide to host a fundraiser it will be because WE want to and not because SHE says we HAVE TO. And if she doesn’t like the way our home is decorated, then don’t come over. And no more telling me how to dress. I know how to dress, and if I need help, I’ll call Alex.
Who does she think she is? I’m a grown woman. I’m her daughter-in-law not her daughter, and I am only obligated to extend my affection to a certain point. And if she keeps pissing me off, I’ll use those heart paddles and shock some sense into her. She’s been campaigning for a tongue-lashing and I’m about to cast my vote and give it to her. She’s been running this family like we’re prisoners and she’s the warden. Well, I’ve got news for her, my parole came through and I’m not taking any more of her crap.
I think I’m one major PMS surge away from losing my cool. I hope I remember all of this when I explode. But until then, I will be the dutiful, supportive, loving and hopeful wife my husband married, who packs a loaded gun.
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When I met my four best friends in college, I had a little girl crush on each of them. I wanted to be like all of them.
I wanted to be pretty like Chloe. I wanted Taylor’s sassiness, Alex’s style and Kendell’s cooking skills. I never really knew where I fit in. It seemed like they all had plans. The only plan I had, was to finish college, get a good job and possibly leave with a husband. When I left college, I left with a degree and still no real idea of what I wanted to do. I also failed in my quest to graduate with a fiancé.
After a couple of years, I ended up at an accounting firm. I hated it. It was stable and that made my parents happy.
Honestly, my childhood hasn’t been story book. I was born with a twin brother, Donnie. I know, Donnie and Dionne. You’d think my parents would have been a little more imaginative. I can’t really blame them though. They had been trying for quite a while to get pregnant and when they did, it was twins. Unfortunately, Donnie died when we were five. It really messed my parents up. At one point I thought they were going to get a divorce.
They managed to patch things up and tried to get pregnant again, but it never happened. They decided to turn all of their attention on me. Lord have mercy, I love my parents, but it was difficult there for a while. So when I got to college and met these amazing girls who were so carefree, but with goals, I wanted to be just like them.
When I was younger, I wanted the fairy tale, complete with the perfect marriage to a wonderful man, a couple of kids, a dog, a fulfilling career and the perfect three bedroom Craftsman style bungalow with a white picket fence. I got the husband and the marriage. But, I also got a nagging mother- in-law, no kids, and a four bedroom Santa Barbara style house. Instead of a dog, I got half ownership in Burke Media, my husband’s company, and the job as its CFO. And the picket fence was swapped out for a boxwood hedge.
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So what’s my secret? I no longer believe in fairy tales and don’t know how to tell my husband I don’t want a baby or a dog. But it might be too late.
KENDELL
MY NAME IS KENDELL MARTIN and I own Tangerine Spice, one of the hottest restaurants on the West side. At least that’s what my publicist says. But my publicist is also my best friend’s husband.
What’s my story? It’s a story that’s as old as time. I was in love with a wonderful, compassionate, attractive man. His family owned a vineyard, which produced a high quality organic wine and sparkling wine, which my dad was excited about. After our third date, my dad went to work creating new recipes for his restaurants, Blue Dove, Blue Belle and Blue Cafe to be compatible with their wines. My ex-boyfriend’s father and my Dad worked out an arrangement to serve their wine at all of his restaurants and mine. It was a match made in entrepreneur heaven.
My ex was constantly making references about our getting married. You know things like, “I told my dad to hold back some of the port for our wedding”, “Madrid would be a great honeymoon location", “I don’t want a big wedding, just a few family and friends”, “I think three children would be nice, two boys and a little girl I can spoil as much as I spoil you". I went so far as to start interviewing wedding planners. After three years of this premarital talk, I just came out with it and asked.
“When are we getting married?”
“I have no intentions of ever getting married”, he replied.
“Then tell me what is with all the wedding talk?”
He didn’t have an answer. Turns out he was just saying what he needed to say to keep me happy because of the business arrangement between our fathers.
When we broke up, my dad was more heartbroken than I was. I recovered quickly, but it took him a little longer. To help him get over this breakup, I took him to Napa and introduced him to several far more superior organic wines. Before we got back home, he had forgotten all about the ex and his father’s sub par wine.
Do I regret the time I spent walking in total oblivion? Yes, and n
o. Should I have been a little more in tune with what was going on? Yes. Should I have asked him early on how he felt about marriage? Most definitely. Will I make the same mistake again? I pray to God I don’t.
After wasting all that time with someone who basically lied to me, I turned my love life over to God and promised to listen to Him. He told me to trust Him, and I have only been trusting Him with part of my life. I have too much to accomplish to waste my time with someone that doesn’t really know what he wants to do. Or who will say whatever he has to in order to seal the deal.
