I was looking for love; he was looking for free housing. We met on Tinder; his name was King.
My first-date idea was to meet up for coffee. King offered to cook for me in my home.
He was fine and I was lonely so I agreed.
King showed up, chocolate, bald, fine as hell and empty-handed; he cooked the food I had in my fridge. We ate French toast and eggs.
“You didn’t bring food to cook?” I asked. King shot back, “Am I supposed to buy groceries on a first date?!”
We had a great conversation and amazing s3x.
King deactivated his Tinder account in front of me and he spent the night.
The following morning, King tried to stay in my home while I went to work but I refused.
The next night, King came back to my home (uninvited) and we watched Netflix. King brought liquor and we had amazing, drunk s3x.
He spent the night. And the next night. And the next…
For two months King remained in my house.
His s3x was top-tier and his conversations were amazing; King wanted marriage—with me. He wanted a large family—with me. And he wanted to support my dreams.
But, the sum of King’s parts didn’t equal the whole. Conversations and great s3x don't pay my bills. In fact, my bills have doubled.
Also, King splurged on himself but bought nothing for me. For example, he had a $350 pair of shoes arrive at my house, but he didn’t offer to help me with the bills.
I mentioned to King that I couldn’t afford cable and groceries for two, so I may have to let cable go.
Him: “Wow. How did you afford it before?”
Me: “I’m buying double the groceries and toiletries now.”
Him: “Cable won’t cut you off until you’re a few months behind…let it ride.”
Me: “Or, you could pay it this month.”
Him: “Am I your daddy? Am I supposed to pay your bills?! Or am I supposed to do something else?”
King's "something else" was his amazing s3x.
King lived in a hotel before we dated, so I guess I’m his new hotel.
In a moment of clarity, I told him I couldn’t afford for him to stay overnight every day.
King said casually, ‘You know once I receive mail here, I’m legally your roommate?’ He smiled. My heart sank to the floor.
I had a mooching stranger in my bed and I was defenseless.
It's my fault; I told too much, too soon.
King knew I didn’t have any strong men in my life to throw him out. I’m an only child. No big, bad, uncles or brothers to protect me. No dad to come to my rescue.
And as a Black woman, I understood that if I called police, the situation could become deadly for both of us.
The only way I could get this man out of my house was to drive him out. I decided to fake my own eviction; it took 3 painful days.
I paid my rent. I bought a burner phone, then I created a fake eviction notice with the burner phone’s number on it, just in case he called. I slapped the notice on my door.
(King didn’t call the number, but a neighbor did; she said: “Leave that young lady alone. You should be evicting the people next to me, they got the whole floor smelling like weed.”)
I returned from work and showed King the eviction notice. I asked if he had money to help me out because I was about to be homeless.
Him: “I thought you were independent. Why you changing on me? You lied. You don’t have your sh!t together.”
Instead of cuddling with me, King was back on Tinder. We never had s3x again.
On the third day, I put my cable service on pause (and told King that it was shut off). I paid the janitor $20 to shut off the electricity to my apartment after I left for work.
King texted me: “yo! Power’s off!”
I responded: “Oh no! Can you pay the bill?”
He left my message on read.
On my way home from work, I braced myself for the grand finale of packing my things and moving out. But, when I got home, King was already gone.
I texted him. “Where are you? I need help packing. Where are we gonna stay tonight, King?”
Message left on read.
If I’m honest, it did sting to realize that King wasn’t really into me. And, yes, I’m jealous knowing that he’s curling someone else’s toes right now.
But damn it FEELS GOOD to have my bed and my castle all to myself once again.
Farewell my dear King.