I remember when I found out he was a drug dealer. I walked into his apartment and there were bags of white shit and drying plants of weed over every available surface. I tried not to act shocked. I mean, I knew he wasn’t an upstanding citizen when I met him, and I knew he grew weed. I wasn’t ignorant, but damn, to see it so blatantly displayed.
He took me to the beach once. He carried a .45 in his glove box. Unregistered no doubt. I remember looking at it thinking it was scary but also feeling kind of safe with him. We watched the sunset that night and he collected sand dollars for me. I still have one.
He took me to meet his mom. She was very sweet. Small house, his childhood pictures around the place. I knew he had spent years in and out of juvenile hall and jail. I knew he wasn’t necessarily a good person but I also thought, people can change, can’t they? I figured I must mean something to him, I mean I met his mom. I still don’t know anything about his father.
The next week I didn’t hear from him for around three days. I called and called. We weren’t exclusive exactly but I still thought we had something. He finally answered. I asked him where he was. He was in Michigan with a girl. He flew out to sleep with her and stay awhile. I was crushed obviously. I slept with another guy.
I was staying at a friends house at the time. Keeping her company while her husband was working out of town. I woke up one morning and he was there, sitting at the end of the bed. I should have probably been scared, but I wasn’t. He asked if I slept with the other guy. I lied, but he already knew.
Looking back now, it’s ironic, isn’t it? He could fly out to another state to sleep around but I couldn’t sleep with someone else? We weren’t exclusive remember? How dare he try and play the wounded one. He stopped talking to me after that and I was devastated. I went to his apartment, I tried to talk to him but he said we had nothing to talk about and closed the door in my face. I cried at his doorstep. What was I thinking? He was just a drug dealer.
The thing is when you’re told over and over again that you’re not good enough, by every guy you’re with, and when you’re treated as if you’ll never be good enough, abused, mentally put down, shown disrespect enough times-you start to believe it. You start chasing the bad boys. The ones who will keep you in that cycle and treat you like dirt. You seek them out because you know nothing else. You feel like that is all you are worth. So ya, that’s why I dated a drug dealer. One who I later found out married a stripper and beats the crap out of her. So thank you God, for not letting me get trapped there. For always being there for me, in my darkest times, even when I didn’t know you were.