Should We Break Up? My Homegirl Is In Constant, Unspoken Competition With Me
Later that very same week, I noticed that my picture on a school bulletin board had been marked out, vandalized. Though I didn’t want to admit it to myself then, there was a part of me that knew it was Patrice.
—-
But it wasn’t just the grades and social status that Patrice seemed to envy. If I received any attention from men, she wasn’t too happy about that either. During our sophomore year of high school, a very popular, senior basketball player started telling people that he liked me. I didn’t know him well enough to return the sentiment, but I was naturally flattered. By this time, Patrice and I weren’t as close as we were in elementary of middle school, for various reasons. Where we were once both focused on school and learning, she was now onto clothes and boys. I liked clothes and boys just as much as the next girl, just not as much as my books. And certainly not enough to let those interests get me in trouble.
Anyway, since we weren’t hanging out as much as we used to, when news spread that this senior liked me, Patrice sent one of her new friends to deliver a message.
Ashton met me at my locker to chat a bit.
“So, I heard that Matthew likes you…”
“Yeah, I heard the same thing. I really don’t know him though.”
“Well, you know if I were you I wouldn’t take it too seriously. He was just trying to talk to Patrice last week.”
Confused, I frowned before saying, “Oh, ok.”
“Yeah…”
Then, just as quickly as she’d appeared, Ashton flitted off down the hallway.
—-
After high school, I went to college and Patrice started working. The summer after I graduated from college, I came back to my hometown for one last turn up before I had to start making my own way in the real world. Not being able to properly turn up in my parents’ house, me and a group of girls rented a large house. There were four of us, including myself. I was close to two of the girls and one of them was close to Patrice. Since the lease on her apartment, just so happened to be up that summer, she asked if she could live with us. I had feelings about Patrice being shady but I figured not only had we all grown up since middle and high school, having a fourth person in the house would decrease my portion of the rent. Plus, perhaps we’d be able to rekindle our old friendship. I decided to make the best of it.
Turns out, not that much had changed.
That summer, one of the other girls’ brother, Jason, spent quite a bit of time at the Turn Up house. And as it usually goes, it wasn’t long before he and I developed a type of flirtship. Nothing had a officially been established, but it was very clear to see that we were into each other.
I had just done a big chop and Jason was one of the first men to tell me that he loved my natural hair. Not too sure about this whole natural journey, it was much appreciated. It just so happened that Patrice happened to be in the room when he said it. Interestingly enough, from that day forward she stopped getting her ritual relaxer and went through great pains manipulating her hair to make it appear more curly and afro-like.
If I hadn’t traveled a similar path with Patrice, I would have chalked it up to a simple style change. But I was old enough to know better now. And then if that weren’t enough of a clue, she made sure to be present in the room whenever Jason and I were talking. And she didn’t sit and listen quietly in the corner, she would literally interrupt our conversations by jumping on his back, mid-sentence, asking for a piggy back ride, like she was five-years-old.
The poor girl had no chill.
A month later, I moved out, taking a job in L.A. Jason and my flirtship never progressed to anything serious. Still, I had to shake my head when his sister called my just two weeks after I’d been in L.A. to tell me that Patrice and Jason had slept together.
I wish I could say I was surprised. But she had been showing me exactly who she was since we were eleven years old. Hopefully, Jason satisfied her in bed because she clearly was searching for something outside of herself.
—-
Annnnd scene. Again, these are several different stories collected from several different women about their so-called friends. I just, for better readability, took the time to combine them into one narrative. Do you have a similar story about a past or present girlfriend? How did you handle the situation? Were you able to maintain the friendship? And lastly, if you were “me” in any of these situations, which one of them would have been an indicator that you needed to be done with your girl?
