Homecoming Post 7: Justin Did Something to Deirdra pt. 2

As I get older, my tolerance for nonsense is getting pretty thin. This is saying a lot, because it wasn't high to begin with. I find that things get on my nerves really easily, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to not say what is on my mind. So as you can probably guess, being around Justin for any length of time has become excruciating. Two years ago, I talked about how something happened between Justin and my friend Deirdra of a sexual nature when we were in college, which I believe was the catalyst behind what would become a very serious and long-lasting mental health struggle for her. And as I spoke to him at one of our homecoming events, I could only imagine how fake I had to look laughing and shooting the sh*t with him. What would Deirdra have said if she had walked into the University Center at the very same time that I was talking to him about his new job?

Here is the thing: Justin has become part of my inner circle because of my other friends. He is funny. He is cool. He is nice. And because I have gotten closer to him over the years, I have these conflicting feelings of friend love for him. Yet my affections for him and my secret disdain for him mix in my stomach like oil and water. Sometimes the rage and the queeziness that I feel when I am around him confuses me so terribly that I don't know whether or not I want to scream or throw up. As he went on and on about this job, I just wanted to grab him up by his shirt collar and scream, "What did you do to Deirdra, you dipsh*t?! And I want the real story, not the crap you told the administration!"

I doubt that he would be honest with me. Deirdra didn't even tell me the whole story, just enough so that I would understand why she was upset. Yet, understanding what she has gone through emotionally, even a little bit, you would surmise that there was a lot she was keeping under her hat. She was private and proud in that way. People have the absolute right to tell their stories to whom they want to when they want to. Yet, all through homecoming, I thought of how messed up it was that he was doing the Xavier dance, and Deirdra is lost in the wind. I haven't heard from her in years, and the last time we spoke, she was very against coming to Xavier for any reason. 

As long as this guy is a part of my friend group, I am going to struggle with this, and quite frankly, it makes me feel icky. Am I dealing with a psycho who can do something bad to someone, then move on, or a guy that did something bad when he was young and then grew up and past it? If I could ask him about it, would he be remorseful if he copped to it at all? I guess the plan from my end is to continue to keep my trap shut. Deirdra would want me to. Luckily, I don't have to see Justin all the time. I hear more about him because the people in my life are crazy about him. On those rare occasions when he comes around, I guess I just have to crank up the phony. I don't know how people can actively be fake. When I am called to do it, it exhausts me. 

Homecoming Post 6: Matchmaking' and Marriage Breakin'

Several of my friends are getting divorced. Some of these divorces I am really surprised about. It's hard to see a couple uncouple, but on the other hand, I've got some single friends ready for their turns at bat, so let's get the divorce ball rolling!

I've always enjoyed playing matchmaker, but it was not until the event on the yard that I realized how critical my self-appointed role as a love connector is. All my homegirls looked fabulous and moisturized, but they were all equipped with their perimenopausal hand fans. All the guys had their I-have-a-child-in-middle-school dad bellies. For once, I wasn't the only person complaining about wanting to sit down and being tired. We are getting old! A young student told me that he was born the year I graduated! Those of us that are still single have hit a fork in the road, especially if we want babies or to not be the oldest papa at the high school graduation. We've either gotta poop or get off the pot. There is no such thing as sloppy seconds anymore. We've gotta put our hat in the game before the buffet closes. 

A part of me wants all these couples to reconcile because duh, it's dusty out here! However, if God has willed for these unions to perish, I need to know for sure. There are coffee dates that need to be scheduled; late in life babies that need to be created. 

Homecoming Post 5: Invisiblisha: Another Drexel Wife Mystery

I ran into Golden Boy on the yard, and by ran into, I mean I was sitting down and he walked in front of me. I never miss an opportunity to hug him because I'm a creeper, and I can feel his muscles through his shirt, and if I hug him strategically, I can rub his back and arms in one smooth swoop, a move I creatively call "The Holly". But I didn't get to Holly him this go round. He seemed to be very worried and preoccupied. 

"What's wrong?" I asked. 

He turned his back to me and looked out into the huge crowd. " I can't find Invisiblisha, my wife," he said, distracted, before he ran off.

I jumped when I heard Golden Boy say wife. It was weird, like hearing a baby curse. I know he has a wife, just like I know the moon is made of cheese. However, like many Drexel wives, she is a bit of an urban legend. On top of that, it is hard to believe that Golden Boy even has a wife, considering what a mimbo he used to be. He also reminded me of a Black Fonzie from Happy Days. Did The Fonz ever get married?

The only girlfriend I knew him to have in school was older than us and scary. Bossy Boots had a way of ordering people around that should be studied by the Navy Seals. After that, it was a revolving door of girls he didn't seem too attached to, and the ones he didn't bone he'd dry hump on the dance floor. Some girls have all the luck. 

I remember I told him once when we were in school that I had heard a group of girls referring to him as a ho, but that I stepped in and told them that wasn't true. 

"Aw, yes, it is," he'd said. He had on his Greek jacket, collar popped, and was sitting in a chair with his feet up on a table in the University Center because he was cool like that. "But it's good to know someone is standing up for me out here."

I watched as Golden Boy pushed through the crowd, looking for his wife. I mean, he was really looking for her. This made me wonder what type of woman can make a promiscuous boy turn into the type of grown man who looks like he is going to cry if he gets separated from her in a crowd. 

That is where my investigation began. 

THE INVESTIGATION 

It is important that you understand my dedication to solving a puzzle to get the footwork it took to find info on this woman. I promise you, I asked every other person who passed me at the tailgate, "Do you know this lady?" And from this Pulitzer-worthy journalistic labor, I discovered two things: she is alive and biologically female. WHAT IS IT WITH THESE DREXEL WIVES?! Are they all farts in the wind? Sitting under the tailgate tent of people who didn't know me and were obviously wondering where I came from, I could feel Invisiblisha in the atmosphere. Breathing. Surveying. Thinking. Ovulating. I have never been married, so I think that a reason why the Invisiblisha caliber of wife confuses me is because if I did have a husband, everyone on Earth would know we were together. People would recognize me from a mile away. I am constantly confused by these Invisiblishas who let their husbands free, out into the wild to be groped by weirdos like me. 

Although I couldn't tell Invisiblisha from a hole in the wall, if she's reading this, I want her to know I see her in the shadows, very much giving Carmen Sandiego vibes. Funny, I don't think anyone ever found Carmen either. 

Homecoming Post 4: Holls and the Throuple

There were a lot of people that I wanted to see at homecoming. Two people that I felt it was imperative to see were Sexy Koala and Hot Wife to potentially discuss being a third in their marriage. They just seem really cool, and I'm in desperate need of a future. After I graduated from college, people told me to get a job and a car, but no one, NO ONE, suggested that I get a future. Turns out, that's important. 

Sexy Koala is tall and cute. I thought so even in school. But what's way more importante than his being tall and cute is that he has a job. I looked him up on LinkedIn. He works someplace I've never heard of, doing something I don't understand. Who can deduce what anyone does with these new-age fancy job titles?? What I have deduced from social media is that he makes money. I don't, so I think he and I would complement each other well in this way. 

Oddly enough, the desire to be a part of Sexy Koala's marriage is not rooted in Sexy Koala; it's rooted in the persona of his hot wife whom I affectionately refer to as Hot Wife. Homegirl has it going on! From what I can see on Instagram, she is living the soft life, and I want in! She's always smiling and happy. Never looks stressed. Once, I saw a pic of her in a hammock. Now you know you are in your soft girl era when you are chillin' in a hammock! I want a soft life. My life is hard, and I want out! All I do is worry about money and bills and the new season of Stranger Things. I too want cool clothes and vacations and gourmet birthday cakes with fancy sparkler candles. I guess that all comes with marrying a provider. That's another thing no one told me to make sure I got: a provider. Damn it! 

I Googled how to approach an existing couple about entering into a throuple, and I didn't like what I read. I in no way want to infringe on their love, but I think I'd be a good helping hand. I like to cook and fold clothes. Hot Wife would still have time to get her nails done, and in return for my hard work, Sexy Koala could take on my student loan payments and phone bill. 

I was excited to see that Sexy Koala came to homecoming, but I didn't see his wife. This sucked because I'd really be making my pitch to her. I think that as a woman, she'd better understand the benefit of having a humorous, live-in maid. As smart as Sexy Koala was in school, I think the concept would go right over his head. 

A part of me is bitter that it has come to this for me, but I'm 40. I can either cry about it or actively begin exploring solutions, and yes, some of them may not be traditional. Just know that when you are in a soul-squeezing rush to find healthcare and stable shelter, traditions of olden days have to fall by the wayside. 

I have a message to them both that I can't send because I keep editing it. My proposal has to be perfect before I reach out. Until then, sadly, it's back to the hardness of it all. Ick. 

Homecoming Post 3: Bells and the Bulldog

Isn't it funny how a situation can be hilarious to you but traumatizing to someone else? That is how the situation with Bulldog is for me and Bells. I still chuckle about it to myself today, and up until the tailgate, the whole ordeal still gave her panic attacks. 

Back in the day when things were cool, Bells and I went to a party at this club called The Bourbon Room. I remember it being a good time, and at some point, Bells and I took a seat at a booth to sip on our drinks. While we were being grown and sexy, Bulldog and one of his frat brothers walked over to our booth. I could tell from Bells's face that she was annoyed. I wasn't. I had gotten to know Bulldog from my Small Group Communication class. He had a reputation for being a little extra, but he was cool and funny once you got to know him. He and his friend said hi to us both, but it was clear that Bulldog had made his way over to talk to Bells. 

"Can I get you a drink?" Bulldog asked Bells. 

Bells smiled and told Bulldog, "No, thank you, I already have a drink."

I felt kind of bad in that moment. I knew that sting of being ignored by guys, but it had to sting worse to approach a woman and be rejected. 

Bulldog stood there for a second, as if he was about to say something, but instead, he pulled out his bare pe*is and made it swirl in a circle right there at the booth! 

I rocked back and forth for a full minute before letting out an explosive laugh! I'm not going to lie, I peed on myself a little. 

"Brother Bulldog, what are you doing?!" his frat brother exclaimed before pushing him away from the table. 

Needless to say, Bells didn't think that the incident was funny then, and she definitely doesn't think it is funny now. 

"If I see him at homecoming, I am going to scream," she told me the week or so before we were to leave for New Orleans. 

"He's married with kids now. I'm sure he's not still whipping out his ween and showing it to people," I offered. 

"I don't care," she said sternly. 

It is so funny how times have changed. If Bulldog had tried that today with a girl, he would have been arrested, thrown out of school, canceled, then put in a rocket and shot to the sun, and no one would have thought twice about it. Back then, the whole thing was just a highlight in a night out story to be told over breakfast. 

I assumed that Bulldog was going to be at homecoming, and I was right. He is full of school spirit, and he is also cool with one of Bells's best buds. At some point during the tailgate, her friend facilitated a brief convo between the two that, according to Bells, ended in a handshake. 

"See. Now you all are besties," I joked. 

"I wouldn't go that far," she griped. 

Here's hopin' 😊

Homecoming Post 2: Cane the Kappa- The Untold Story

I believe in aliens. I believe that at one point, dolphins could walk and talk like humans. And, because my grandma is from the Midwest, I believe that spaghetti and fried fish is an actual meal. But I think what makes me truly delulu is the imaginary anything I have created in my mind with Cane the Kappa. 
I remember when I first saw Cane, and this was before he became a Kappa. He was walking behind St. Jo with a bunch of volleyballs or basketballs or something. I know nothing about sports. He was unassuming, just a tall, thin, very light-skinned boy taking a stroll with a bunch of balls. He was cute, and I decided, in accordance with fulfilling my personal goal of becoming besties with only hot guys, I would approach him next year, my sophomore year, when I came back to school skinny , and make him my friend. Let's just say that the Kappas got to him before this goal could be actualized. I remember his probate show. I knew it was him before he took off his little disguise. The dream died, and he became XU-famous. This is all just background for the story I'm about to tell you now, which led to me having a question for him for 23 years. 
THE STORY
One very early morning in 2004 or 5, I was thrown out of the 24-hour study room for falling asleep and snoring. I walked out the side of the library, passed the tennis courts, and around to where the old student center used to be. There was an AKA seating situation over there, and I saw Cane canoodling with Pretty Africa, that super-tall AKA who used to wear kente prints with her Greek gear. They looked so in love, and the sight made me smile all the way back to the dorm. If Cane and I were not meant to be, at least he would be with someone cool. I couldn't wait to see them during the day as a couple, but never did. It dawned on me that I had probably witnessed the fruit of a secret love affair like from the soap operas! I wanted to ask him about it, but he was ALWAYS with the Kappas, which I could have handled if it weren't for the little mean one. But not the one you are thinking of, the other one. 
THE CONVERSATION 
My conversation with Cane left me with more questions than answers. It was hot the day of the tailgate, and watching people try to stay cool was making me feel hotter. I just happened to look over my shoulder, and there was Cane, walking alone, just as I'd first seen him years earlier, only with no balls. He also looked shorter. 
"Cane!" I called.
To my surprise, he walked over to me and gave me a church hug. He was drinking out of a beer can in a paper bag, and he wore a designer fanny pack across his chest like a Girl Scout sash. 
"I have a question for you, one question, two parts," I began. "I've been wanting to ask you this question for years."
I have to admit, I was excited. I wanted the tea on what I assumed was a whirlwind romance between him and Pretty Africa. 
"Okay," he said. It was a million degrees, and he just seemed so chill. His New Orleans accent was THICK. The only way it could sound more New Orleans is if it was coming out of an alligator's mouth. 
"Did you have a secret girlfriend when we were in school?" I asked. 
"Yes, but she was a *#$5@," he said. 
*#$5@?
"It wasn't Pretty Africa?" I asked. 
He shook his head. "Naw, you have me confused with my line brother. He looks exactly like me."
"Oh yeah? He has your same skin and long hair?"
"Yep." Before you ask no, there was no Kappa while we were there that looked anything like him at all. My bs-o-meter began to go off in my left foot, although it could have been diabetic nerve pain. 
"I don't remember that for real," he said, "unless I was drunk." 
Side eye. Blame it on the alcohol.
"I have another question," I said. "Is it true that you are a literal Million-Dollar Nupe? That you won the lottery?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, but it was just a small jackpot."
And then, just like that, he was gone. This guy is a riddle wrapped in a poem dressed in Prada/Gucci. 
I assume it will be another 23 years before I talk to him again. I guess he went back to the Kappa tent after we talked, but I imagine he called Pretty Africa immediately to tell her that their jig was up and to hide their big lotto winnings. Like I said, I'm delulu. 

Homecoming Post 1: Envying Scalene

I decided to take a break from watching sex scenes in F-grade Tubi movies long enough to go to homecoming this year. I was a little apprehensive about going for several reasons, but was very excited once I arrived. The atmosphere was electric, so I happily walked onto campus and smack dab into Scalene. There are some women so attractive that they make other women feel like dirt by merely existing, and that woman is Scalene for me. Of course, I'd run into her while having the worst hair day of my life. 

"Hey beautiful!" she exclaimed, giving me a hug. 

Beautiful. The nerve of this chick. Where does she get off calling me beautiful? 

"Hey girl!" I said through clenched teeth. 

You will be excited to know that she looks younger now than she did in college, and she has become one of those insufferable 40-year-old women who wear crop tops. But why wouldn't she be? In college, she was already prettier than most of us and had a better body, yet she wore perfect makeup just to step on our necks. I didn't see her husband there, but don't get excited. They are still together. However, not seeing him made me think of her college boyfriend, whom I was in love with, along with 99 other guys. 

"I'm going to take him from you," I'd said jokingly, not jokingly, to her back in the day in the cafe. 

She smiled at me and said, "You should try it." Then she bit down on a French fry and winked at me. Can we just have a moment to meditate on how obnoxious that was?

But even that could be forgiven if she'd get fat, just once. I feel like that would give me the spiritual healing that I so desperately need. Her success, cheery disposition, and positive attitude definitely aren't doing the trick. 

I can hear you all now. "But Holly, if there are things about yourself you don't like, why not work on those things instead of investing time in being envious of others?" I hear that. And to that I say, "Bite me." Saturday, I watched her twerk with her friends while I kicked myself for not bringing Tiger Balm to lather my knees with. Bite. Me. 

All and all, I was happy that I got to see old Scalene and do some catching up. Envious or not, it's always a pleasure to see a Xavier sister looking and doing well.