Quick heads up I’m not the center piece of this story.
I’m a firm believer that if you see the homie’s significant other acting out of pocket you should immediately let the homie know. I know people have apprehensions about the messenger getting shot and what not but if you can’t notify the homie when someone is doing them wrong then why is that the homie? Especially if the repercussions could be possibly devastating and you could have aided in the avoidance of the entire situation.
Anyway on with the story…
Let’s call the homie Mike and let’s call his girl Mary in the spirit of anonymity and shit.
In my younger days I used to section off my friends; I had my club friends, my hood friends, my basketball friends, my real friends and so on and so forth. Mike was a glorified club friend I used to see at the gym and then I kept running into when I was out in these streets. He was an excellent wingman next to Slick and Jolly he might have been the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. During our wingman adventures this man went out here and found love; it was like when Michael Jordan retired from the Bulls (the second time) it was the ending of an epic era. Fast forward 7 months and Mike and Mary moved in together I came to the house warming I bought them a fifth Hennessey VSOP and a George Forman grill. Mike went from club homie to “I’m getting the fight on PPV”/occasionally get a beer after work friend and of course I was still out in these streets.
Fast forward another few weeks and I’m out at Eye Bar on a Tuesday and it was lit because some of the bench warming Wizards were in the building. I’m standing at the bar and to my left stands Mary with a crew of her homies. She sees me and comes over to greet me with an overly friendly lingering hug. I did like Jamie Foxx and blamed it on the liquor. As the night passed she made her way over towards my section several times continuing to be very friendly and once even sitting on my lap. She was doing the absolute most but I was still going to stay on the blame it on the liquor path until I was heading out and saw pushed up against the wall kissing some dude whose hands were on her ass. Definitely an unignorably red flag and yup; I was snitching. I figure it wouldn’t be the best move to shoot off a text at quarter to midnight on a Tuesday to let Mike know her girl was out here wilding all the way out. I could imagine him there sitting in the living with the lights off smoking a cigarette waiting for her to drunkenly stumble in and then I’d see the end result on the morning news while getting dressed for work. Yeah, probably wouldn’t be the best. I decided, I’d just catch him at the gym tomorrow but he didn’t come, so I waited until 4:30pm on the dot and called him.
Mike – What’s up bro?
JD – I saw Mary out last night…
Mike – Yeah told me
JD – Bro, she was out there wilding all the way the fuck out. I was leaving out and some random dude was tonging her down with both hands on the cheeks.
Mike – Oh yeah?
JD – Nigga
Mike – Stop playing with me
JD – Nigga, go handle that ASAP
Mike – Good looking out son. I appreciate you.
JD – It’s nothing son. Gone.
I didn’t hear from Mike after that; not that I was expecting him to give me an update. I didn’t even see him in the gym for whole month and when I did he looked at me sideways, but I just went to get about my issue. We ended up leaving out at the same time so I rolled up on him…
JD – What’s up kid?
Mike – Nothing is up. Mary told me about all you were doing that night.
JD – All I was doing?
Mike – She told me you were trying to feel her up and shit.
JD – Me?
Mike – Yeah nigga you
JD – So after I called you and said what I said you spoke to her and then she said whatever?
Mike – Yeah she wasn’t trying to fuck up our friendship
JD – OK kid you be cool like you be cool
I stepped off right then and there. He never called my phone, hit me up on social media; he ceased to exist the moment I turned my back.
Fast forward 4 years later and I’m in Target minding my fucking business and attempting to spend less than $100. I’m browsing the Blue Ray aisle looking for some of those $5 gems and I hear someone yelling my name. I look left. I look right. I don’t see a familiar face now I’m back to eyeballing this director’s cut edition of Terminator 2 and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see a guy with dreds and a beard looking me in my face “Jean”. It was Mike but he was clean cut and a few pounds lighter the last time I saw him so I had no fucking idea who he was. This was also the beginning of the era that random people from the internet was running up on me to tell me I’m funny. Anyway it was Mike, but instead of doing another JD/Mike back and forth section I’m just going to give you the gist of it…
Mike and Mary continued to date and cohabitate. Mary ended up pregnant and Mike went to Jared to cop a ring. The kid was born. He was playing daddy for a whole year and a half. Then one day he was leaving out of the apartment building and some random dude came to him woman to woman in the parking to tell him his son might not be his son. Fast forward to a nasty break-up, a broken lease, a DNA test and a few court dates later and Mike’s baby turned out not to be his baby. Parking lot dude was the real father off some Maury shit. Life comes at you fast. Yeah he really shed his entire soul in the Blue Ray aisle and I was still holding the director’s cut edition of Terminator 2.
Mike – I was tripping back then because you only wanted to put me up on game
JD – Shit happens. You live. You learn.
After that we had that awkward “what you been up to/we should hang out like old times” convo for about 5 minutes. I ended up not buying the director’s cut edition of Terminator 2 and still managed to spend well over $100 for those that were wondering.
The moral of the story is trust the homie when the homie is telling you about snakes in your yard
Jean DeGrate has spoken