Tonya

Tonya was tall at least six feet with light skin and three kids. She stayed a block away from me, and lived with her mom.  One day a mutual friend told me she liked me. “Really?” I thought she liked my brother. I’d seen Tonya for many years growing up in the neighborhood, but never thought she paid attention to me. In fact I use to kick it with one of her friends.  It didn’t matter. My brother was living in Tennessee and her friend didn’t live in the neighborhood anymore. Tonya and I began to talk. She was breaking up with the father of her children, and I reaped the benefits.

The more I got to know her, the more she catered to me.  I never spent any quality time with her it was strictly sexual for me. She was in walking distance of my home so that made it all the better.  All Tonya wanted was to please me in every sexual way she could, but that was not enough for me. She was willing to do anything for me, and of course I abused my power.  I would make Tonya cook for me and walk the food down to my house.  A big pan of lasagna was on my menu every week. Around the first of the month she got her food stamps and public assistance check. I got my fair share every month.  To make matters even more degrading I had a new girlfriend at the time and Tonya didn’t mind at all.

My Pimp Ways:

I took Tonya’s money all the time. Tonya had two young kids and an infant, but I didn’t care. In fact my current girlfriend was about to have my daughter. There were times my girlfriend would come by my house and I had to hide Tonya in the closet.  She never complained, but I didn’t know Tonya would be down with me for years. I embodied the personality of a pimp and didn’t know it. I constantly took things from her.  I can remember being at her house, sitting in her kitchen and she had four cans of Similac on top of the refrigerator. I asked her could I have them, and she said “No.” Huh? She said “I need that for my baby.” I’m scratching my head because she never said no to me before. How dare she say no to me? A few minutes later her baby began to cry and she left the kitchen. I grabbed the Similac and walked out her backdoor. I took it to my girlfriend “This is for the baby.”

I’ve exploited women most of my life. It’s a known fact that I’ve made many women sleep with my friends or my brother over the years. My friend Catrice always says I can sell ice to an Eskimo. I can convince anyone to do anything. 

My brother was home visiting from Tennessee so why not set her out?  “Set her out” was a term we used in Chicago when we were willing to share a woman. I called Tonya, “My brother is here for the weekend, can you come over?” She was hesitant. “Didn’t you use to like my brother?” She didn’t answer.  “I’m not going to hold it against you, just come over.”  She paused for a second and said “This is not something I would normally do, but I’ll do it for you.”  About a half hour later Tonya knocked on my back door.  I let my brother answer the door.  We had an enclosed back porch: my brother never brought her into the house. They handled their business on the back porch and after a while my brother came back into the house. He looked at me smiling and I smiled back. “Is she gone?”  “No, she is still on the back porch. She wants me to walked her home.”  I looked at him like he was crazy “Nigga that’s the least you can do! She just gave you some!”  I grabbed my jacket and went out to walked her home. I can’t imagine what was going through her mind at the time. All I know is how I feel now in the present day when I think about her, and it doesn’t feel good.  At the time it gave me great pleasure to make women sleep with my friends or my brother.  The difference between Tonya and other women is that the others were down for the cause. The other women were down for fucking my friends.  Tonya wanted me so bad that she was willing to do anything and I abused it.

Tonya has been on my heart since I left Chicago. I’ve done everything I could to locate her to apologize, but I believe Karma has made me pay for the things I’ve done to women over the years. Ironically I had children with the same type of woman I abused, and I’ve spent many of my years single. My experiences with women have not been good. So I’ve had time to learn how to be a man and understand my imperfections.  Even though I’m not perfect, I’ve learned not to exploit a woman’s weakness.

We as young men don’t seem to understand women’s insecurities. We only have one thing on our minds.  It’s not until years later that we learn the issues women deal with, but let me be the first to tell you ladies, most young men don’t care about your weight or your hair and all the things that make you insecure.  By the time we get older and have dealt with so many women we become trained to care about your weight and hair or how big your ass is.  Guess who trains us? Women!  Women train us to make them feel insecure about themselves, but I guess that’s another article.

The Point ↓

There are so many other stories I can give you about Tonya, but I don’t want anyone reading this to judge her. Instead I will end this article by giving a PROFOUND twist about her. Sometimes when Tonya would come to my house she carried a notebook. Her notebook was filled with many short stories she had written. At the time I didn’t know I was a writer or a poet, but I remember being amazed by her stories and how deeply they touched me.  I was attracted to her writing, not knowing at the time that one day I would write her story.  I exploited her and she influenced me.  Thank you Tonya and I hope all is well with you.

 Peace

 D-Revolution