Ex-Husband: “I’m going to ny you to Atlanta so you
can see my house.”Tiffany: “I don’t need to see your house. I’m not going
to care about your house.”Ex-Husband: “No, I’m going to ny you Sunday. It’s my
birthday.”He new me to Atlanta, and that was the mrst time a man
new me somewhere, so I was feeling super-special, even if
he was gay.
At this point, I’d been talking to him seriously for a few
weeks, and he’d been buying me stuĉ and being so nice and
nying me places and he even found my daddy. Yeah, he
wasn’t all that hot, but damn—no man had ever been this
good to me.
After he picked me up from the airport, we pulled up to
his house. In my little pea-brain, I thought this was the most
beautiful house in the whole wide fucking world. I was
telling myself, I don’t care if he is gay, I am fucking the shit
out of him. He’s going to get the business. I don’t care if he’s
gay and ugly and fat, I’m going to fuck him.
So I did fuck him, and he wasn’t gay. It was like my soul
had left my body. It was like, ͷis is your husband, girl. You
need to lock this in. He knows what he’s doing. He was all
cool.
Then when we were done, I was like: