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By Theresa

Ricky loved me, but …

Only in bed.

Only at night.

And only when his main chick wasn’t available.

I met Ricky as a freshman in college, he was a junior, a C-student on a football scholarship.

Ricky was fit, with a beautiful smile, bedroom eyes and long eyelashes. We hooked up immediately.

What I didn’t know is that upperclassmen men USUALLY had established relationships with upperclassmen females, and freshmen are typically the side-pieces.

Ricky’s girlfriend was a senior, a pretty, popular member of Delta Sigma Theta. He made it clear to me that she was his public girl and I was his private one.

Ricky broke his leg in a drunk driving accident; he lost the scholarship and dropped out. His sorority girlfriend dumped him.

I was promoted to his public girlfriend.

Ricky often said he loved me, usually when he was caught doing some shady sh!t that hurt me.

For example, Ricky moved to a rundown rental house in a nearby town and because he loved me, Ricky insisted that I join him. Unbeknownst to my mom, I dropped out of college to take care of him.

Ricky was on crutches so I had to work to support us. I applied everywhere but the only place that hired me was a strip club. I thought I only had to dance. The manager, a female, made it clear that if one of her top spenders wanted something a little extra, I’d better make him happy.

To my shock/horror Ricky agreed.

Ricky encouraged me to “do what you need to do,” to make that money for us.

I never made any good money at the club; the other dancers would hang around the stage and collect the tips men threw at me. (Typical roach behavior).

My mom wired me money and I continued to fake like I was in college. I got away with it until my former roommate called my mom—and told her everything. At the time I thought my roommate hated me, in truth, she was trying to save me.

My mom begged me to return to school. But Ricky said he loved me, so I chose to stay with him.

For six months I danced and, sometimes tricked. I hated myself and drank a lot.

Ricky’s leg healed but he developed an addiction to pain pills. When he couldn’t get prescriptions, he sought hard drugs. Ricky took my car to get some and was caught with drugs and with another female. Ricky said he brought the other female along so she would take the blame for the drugs, and because he loved me, he didn’t want to get locked up and leave me out in the streets alone.

I got pregnant but Ricky demanded I get rid of our baby, because he loved me, and I was building a name for myself at the club. I decided to keep my baby.

One month later I miscarried. I told Ricky I lost our baby. He said: “Won’t GOD do it?!”

I was still depressed about my miscarriage when Ricky’s frats brought a rival stripper to our home—the MAIN roach that stole my tips.

I was furious and hurt. I seethed as she bounced on his lap. Then he gave me wine.

I slept on the couch for 12 hours.

The following day I could smell the roach’s  perfume in our bed. Ricky said he didn’t cheat on me because he loved me and he knew I was depressed and “still healing.”

That word set of an alarm bell: HEALING… how can I heal with someone who keeps hurting me?

I was so angry that all I saw was red. I scared myself with the deliciously violent things that I wanted to do to Ricky.

I told Ricky I was going to get food.

Instead, I stole his money, gathered my electronics and drove back to campus. I left my clothes behind. I was fleeing the scene BEFORE I killed Ricky.

My roommate looked out for me and let me borrow some clothes and sleep in my old bed that night.

The next day I told my mom and a counselor that I had a mental breakdown. The assistant Dean helped me to officially re-enroll and return to campus housing. I was a semester behind and my GPA suffered.

For awhile Ricky called and texted, and it felt good to be chased, but I never responded.

Eventually I blocked him.

These days I’m studying hard and my GPA is rising. Because I love me, I’m not going to waste my second chance.



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