Flashback: It's somewhere in the 1990s and I'm chilling at Lawrence's house. Lawrence, my shiny new ambitious boyfriend. He was a tech sales guy for Xerox. He was 5'10", caramelly, pretty eyes and charming. But he always had some sort of drama swirling. Money issues or drama at work, with his family, someone at church or from prior relationships - something was on simmer at all times.
We'd fight, he'd storm off and then show up later with a grand gesture. He either loved me or hated me, there was very little in-between with this guy. It was a perpetual motion see-saw of a relationship. Our chemistry was off the charts and that's my only excuse.
We also had a trust problem. Or rather at that time - I didn't trust men, he was a man so I didn't trust him. His behavior was a little sketchy. There were times when he was missing/unavailable/didn't answer his phone. He always had a good explanation but he was one of those guys who talked fast and overexplained. You know like someone whose alibi is just a little too perfect? "Twenty people saw me tap-dancing under a big clock with a Slurpee in one hand and a date-stamped receipt in the other... AND it's on YouTube!" Ooookay.
As I'm sitting on his sofa, he's folding clothes. As he's folding, I'm noticing women's clothes mixed in. 'What's that about?" I asked him. He said they were his sister's items. The only reason I halfway let it slide was because I'd met her earlier in the week and she'd mentioned something about borrowing Lawrence's appliances. Still my side-eye was engaged.
Later the same night (or early the next morning) the doorbell rings. Two a.m. and the doorbell rings? He got up, went to the door, had heated words with a female voice, slammed the door and came back to bed. Before he could climb all the way back in, the doorbell rang again. Okay now, really? I made a move to get up this time and he said, "No, it's okay," and ran back towards the door. I got up and looked out the window. Some chick was in his front lawn with suitcases. Next thing I know, he has picked up the suitcase and is walking her towards the house. The hell you say?
By the time, they get in and are walking down the hallway - I already had clothes on and was looking for my purse and shoes. As I hotfoot towards the door, he's tugging on my arm with explanations. She was an old friend from back in the day. She was in town unexpectedly and in a jam. She just needed a place to stay for a few days. I'm looking at chick, she's looking at me - we both know what's up. Difference between the two of us? She was willing to roll up to a man's house at 2:00am to get what she wanted. I was ready to flee a man's house at 2:00am behind some shiggity. I bounced.
Two weeks later, he invited me out to dinner saying everything was cool. She moved in with her fiance, he wanted all of us to have dinner to clear the air. At this point, my mind has already turned the "this is some bullshiggity right here" corner but I agree to the dinner. Dinner went well up to dessert when this chick starts talking about her seven year old son. Lawrence looks shocked and asks who the father is. She calmly announces that the boy is his. Me, Lawrence and her fiance are all looking at her like, "What?!" WDDDA, ya'll. WDDDA?!
That was it for me. Not that the seven year old appearing from nowhere was his fault, but he was the kind of guy that attracted drama like All Star Weekend attracts clear heels. And he thrived on it. When things were calm, he was itchy as if he knew that drama was beckoning and he couldn't wait to embrace it with both arms open.
Lesson learned: I have enough drama of my own, I really don't need anyone with suitcases full and more on the way. I know life is treacherous terrain. There are valleys and mountaintops. I kinda like life on the plateaus.
What say you, BougieLand? Are there just people in the world who run to drama? Thrive on it? Don't know how to live without it and create some where there was none? What is to be done with those types of folks? Are you a drama magnet? Thoughts, comments, confessions?