I just started dating this guy about three weeks ago. The honeymoon phase is thick. We’ve been running around this city, dating like we’re on a reality show called, “Best Date Night Ever.” From romantic walks in the park, to talking all night on the couch to dancing the night away with DJ ?uestlove spinning–our date nights were filled with nothing but fun.
Then one night, we went to a party with an open bar. If anyone knows anything about parties–open bar is the ultimate, “Let’s get White girl wasted.” Dating and drinking is an obstacle all its own, but I didn’t think it would be an issue for Korey and I. But it was.
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Drink after drink, mine and Korey’s bodies pressed closer together. He’d weave his forearm around my neck and pull me in, whispering in my ear, “You’re so sexy.” Heat rushed my face and I’d gently kiss his neck. We defined flirtation. I delighted in the fact that I was finally a part of one of those couples that I usually roll my eyes at. You know the type–the can’t-keep-their-hands-off-each-other-couple who act as if they need to always be touching in some way.
I’d lost count of the drinks we sucked down, but I noticed the affection started to get rougher. In a dark corner of the venue, he stood in front of me, towering above me at 6’6 and grabbed both sides of my face with both of his large hands with a clap. The sensation stung my cheeks and he pulled my face to him for a kiss. I tried to shrug it off, but then he slapped my behind with so much force, I stumbled forward. “Ouch Korey!” I exclaimed. “Why’d you do that?”
He laughed, flashing those pearly whites that make me weak and he said, “You never complained before.” He was right. I can admit I like a good ass slap, but in the right venue, if you know what I mean.
I tried to chalk it up to the fact that he wasn’t aware of his own strength. Korey has the build of Lebron James. There’s nothing about him that’s small, including his love taps. I almost didn’t realize the flip between his two personalities until he got in my face and screamed, “F*ck outa here!”
Korey called me a name that wasn’t my own and upon clearing it up, he told me Janelle was his homegirl who he used to be in a relationship with, that he hadn’t seen in two months. Fine. Then he challenged me to call Janelle to confirm his claims, while handing me his phone.
At 1:45 am, I called Janelle and she immediately picked up and confirmed Korey’s story. Once I hung up, I felt like an ass. He snatched his phone and told me that I should have never done that and I failed his test. “Where’s your confidence?” Korey asked with so much venom in his voice, I can still feel it booming in my ear drums.
I asked him, “How could I be confident when you keep calling me someone else’s name? What am I supposed to do?”
With my shoulders in Korey’s grip, he pushed me backwards, saying, “You f*cked up.”
Wait. How did I go from being offended by him calling me someone else’s name, to being in tears and wanting him to forgive me? And more importantly–Korey put his hands on me! I’ve never been hit by a man, ever. And the impact still has me in a daze.
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