Side Chick Approved?

Disclaimer: I may sound petty and whiny but it’ my blog. I can be petty and whiny if I want to.

For the past couple of years I have noticed that the men I was involved with sexually or otherwise are now in stable relationships with other women. At first I did not give a damn but lately, it has been doing something to my spirit y’all. The One Who Loves To Text, The One Who Was My Lawyer, The One Who Is Special, and The One Who Was Too Young are now parading their relationships for all of Facebook to see.  I find this peculiar because half of these guys claimed that they didn’t want Facebook in their business when we were involved. Things that make you go hmm.

Anywho…a particular incident had an effect on me and it came from somewhere I least expected. For the past year or so, Young and I have been constant contact. He claimed that he was single and that he wanted me to be his boo. Of course I did not take him too seriously. I won’t fake the funk; a part of me liked the attention. After our horrible sexual encounter, I did not feel the need the have sex with him again. That sure didn’t stop him from trying though! A part of me found his persistence somewhat endearing. It made me feel desired.

To make a long story short, I saw that he recently got engaged to his girlfriend on Facebook. Yep. Girlfriend. It turned out he had one the entire time.  There he was on bended knee proposing to a dainty petite woman as their closest friends look on.  Soon to follow were pics of her showing off her ring which was pretty damn gorgeous by the way.

Jealousy started to set in. Why was she the type of chick that a man wanted to marry? Furthermore, why was I the type of chick that guys wanted to fool around with secretly?  Was I not pretty enough? Was I too fat? Too mousy? Just a wet hole and nothing more? All of these self-defeating thoughts and more swam in my head. Why was this affecting me so much?! I don’t even like this dude romantically. I’m still gaga over The One Who Is a Silver Fox!

A few days later, Young had the nerve to contact me via text message.


Young: I want to take you out to breakfast.

Me: I’m pretty sure your fiancée wouldn’t like that. You’ve been acting like you didn’t have someone the whole time.



Young: Lol you can be my side boo if you like. I’ll pay you.

Me: I’ll pass. I don’t want to be someone’s dirty little secret. I don’t want to be a side boo, chick, bitch, pussy, etc. Call me silly but I’d like to think that I deserve more than that.

Young: You do tho.

Young: I’ll still buy you breakfast lol.

Me: Thanks but no thanks.

I don’t know why I even replied to his text anyway. Perhaps I was looking for a “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about my fiancee” apology.  I definitely wasn’t looking for a “You can be my side chick and I’ll pay you like a hooker” type of ish.

It is not the fact that he got engaged per se. It’s a combination of things. It seems like dudes are by passing me like I have Ebola when it comes to relationships. I’m 35, childless, and sleep alone every damn night. Am I not a fucking catch? A sista can not live on dick alone.

I’m either faced with unrequited love or attract dudes who want a side chick. Do I have “Side Chick Approved” stamped on my forehead? I can not say that I’m completely faultless though; I let men treat me this way for far too long. Perhaps I didn’t think I was worthy to receive more. Sigh. At this point, I’m just done. So done.

Well…That Was Awkward!

It has been nearly 2 months since The One Who Soothed Me and I have been sexually intimate. We barely see each other but are cordial when we do. As you know, I am going back to college to pursue my master’s degree. Before I can enter the program, I need to take the Graduate Record Exam (GRE). Did I mention that this exam costs $186? Hopefully I can get a fee reduction, put it on lay-a-way or have the money fall from the sky somehow.


A good friend (and loyal reader I may also add) emailed me some GRE study guide e-books from  and I wanted to print out a few pages. I asked Soothed if I could print them from his computer and he obliged. I wanted to know when it would be an appropriate time to come over. He said that I could come at that precise moment.

I knocked on the door and he informed me that it was open. As I entered, our eyes met. Before I could approach his computer and utter a word, he looked directly across the room and said, “Nisha this is Courtney. Courtney this is Nisha.” There she was—a woman that I did not notice was standing off to the side when I entered his apartment. It wasn’t something that I was expecting and it completely took me by surprise.

The situation was so awkward. Why didn’t he tell me that he had company? I asked him if he was busy. And why did she have to be so pretty, so friendly…and so White? (If this is you’re unfamiliar with this blog and you’ve jumped to the ridiculous conclusion that I’m a racist, please read this post first.) The only thing that we had in common was that we were both full-figured women.

We shook hands and greeted one another. I apologized to them for showing up and interrupting but she insisted that it was okay. She also asked about the program that I was entering and gave kudos. Why did she have to be so nice? Why couldn’t she be one of those mean White women who clutched or quickly dashed to their purses whenever I passed them by at the store? (Unfortunately this has happened. Maybe it’s my afro or good ole down South racism. Welp.)

I wanted to hate her as much as I hated this situation! I wanted to cut off that long wavy blonde hair of hers and give it to some ratchet chick named Boom-de-la-she-qua in the hood. Gosh, I found it so hard to dislike her. Damn it!

Another part of me wanted to cry like a little b*tch and flee the premises. I cracked jokes to mask the awkwardness, shock and jealousy. It turned out that I didn’t have the freaking document saved to my jump drive (even more awkward) and he told me to email it to him instead. After an hour or so, he gave me the copies and told me that I was welcomed to print out more if necessary. We hugged and he was on his way back downstairs.

Why was I jealous? I know that I am not his type. I shouldn’t have been jealous. What is wrong with me? Do I have unresolved feelings? This absolutely makes no sense! I am shifting my focus from him and prepping for the GRE. F*ck him! F*ck men in general! I need to focus on me!