Then the relationship got violent.
I was drunk one night, and I just kept saying over and
over:
Tiffany: “I want to eat. I want to eat. I want to eat
when we get to the house. I can’t wait till we get to
the house. I’m going to eat that cabbage that you
cooked. Oh man, it’s going to be so good. I’m about to
tear that cabbage up.”Only a drunk person could be excited about eating
cabbage, so you know I was drunk as shit.
I honestly don’t remember how it happened, but we were
in the kitchen, and I was trying to heat up the cabbage, and
he choked the shit out of me. He told me I needed to shut
up and listen, I talked too motherfucking much, and he
choked me.
Now look—we’ve all been around drunk people we
wanted to choke the fuck out of. And if I was raving about
eating cabbage, then I was probably in that category. But
still, it’s diĉerent to want to choke a drunk person, and to
do it to your wife.
When he was choking me, at mrst I was just like, What
the hell? Like, I could not even believe I was being choked.
Then my survival instincts kicked in.
I grabbed the pan on the stove next to me, and I hit him
with it. He dropped his hands, and staggered a bit.
Now that I had my senses, and I could breathe, the rage
came.