Relationships – The Office Black Girl

Keeping Your Enemies Close and Sometimes in Your Corner

When people show you who they are, believe them. When people who matter to you confirm who those people are….believe them.

I have a “friend” that I have known since high school. Our friendship fell a bit off track when she graduated, and I moved away from home after college. But when I returned home, we quickly fell back into a friendship, especially since we had kids that were close in age.

For years, my husband has told me that my friend hated me, but I always thought that was laughable because she never did anything to show me she hated me. Well, except for repeatedly sharing an unflattering story about me from college that I think she may have been too drunk to remember correctly because it never sounds accurate. Oh, and frequently reminds me that one of her best friends happens to be a girl who became an enemy over a boy (that is a whole other story).

Now, I know what you are thinking…I sound dumb af. Which as I reread those words, I would agree. But while those two things are problematic, she has been a friend to me over the years. Even taking my son off my hands for a night when my husband was away, and it felt like the world was crashing on me. I didn’t even ask; she just did it because I was breaking down.

But maybe that is the thing: people have no problem supporting you when you are drowning. But when you are thriving, you are too caught up in doing well that you overlook them quietly exiting your corner.

I want to see people win. Strangers, friends, and every black woman who crosses my path (as long as she has crossed me). There have been plenty of days where I was definitely losing, and while I may have felt a slight pain that I wasn’t where I wanted to be when I saw someone else winning…I never thought I hoped they failed.

It is thoroughly bizarre to me the effort people put into hoping others fail. While I don’t know if my “friend” wants me to fail, it was an eye-opener when I saw her share a random white woman’s post hyping up a local black-owned business. A business that is in the same niche as mine.

But my “friend” doesn’t share my business content. She has never purchased from me, and I can’t remember her liking or engaging with my business content. Not that she owes me her support, but I find it funny that she will share a complete stranger’s content before double-tapping on my business post. While there have been other red flags that I have overlooked, for some reason, that was the breaking point that made me realize maybe our friendship isn’t what I thought it was.

I have been unintentionally keeping my enemy closer than my friends.

Lesson learned. I’m just glad this wasn’t a hard one.

In today’s post, I want to share the recipe for making a turkey baster baby with a married man.

Step One: take two lesbians who want to have a baby. Make sure one of the lesbians is possibly foolish and willing to bleed in her pursuit of securing the turkey baster full of sperm.

Step Two: have the foolish lesbian ask her coworker if she could have his sperm. For a little extra excitement to the process, make sure the lesbian barely knows the coworker, he has at least one kid, and is married to a woman who can come unhinged if provoked.

Step Three: abandon the whole recipe cause the wife will kill the lesbian and possibly the husband if any of his sperm makes it to a turkey baster.

Now, I have no moral or religious convictions that cause me to judge a same sex couple from trying to produce a child with a blood line tied to one of the parents. With that said, I have many judgments about my husband’s coworker asking for his sperm.

Now, my husband said no of course, but not before considering his mother’s feelings about the situation. The fact that his mother somehow played any primary factor in his decision making only fueled my annoyance with the the sperm request. But I’ve decided to (finally) let that go and focus my judgement on his coworker and not his incorrect priorities..

Women get knocked up by one night stands from all walks of life, so maybe his coworker figured she didn’t have to know anything about her sperm donor in order to get pregnant.

Maybe she thought negative stereotypes of black men abandoning their children would allow for her to have a child with a man and him be okay with not being involved.

Or maybe she must have thought that her working at the same job as him would somehow provoke the idea that she could somehow afford the sperm of a married man (trust she is not even close).

But all of that is irrelevant, because at the end of the day what it is comes down to is simple: that sperm is mine. Mine to disappointment my mother in law with when I tell her I don’t want to have more kids. Mine to fear when I forget to take my birth control. Mine to spit up, gag on, or fuck up my good sheets.

In conclusion…

This recipe pairs well with slashed tires, hostile side eye, possible assault charges, and crushed dreams. Wash it down with some hot tea and enjoy!

Tag: Relationships

Keeping Your Enemies Close and Sometimes in Your Corner

Turkey Basting With a Married Man