The Beginning

The powers of the universe are working like a well oiled machine. My story is one, unfortunately and admittedly, of karma at its most elemental.

Here’s the broad synopsis...

My child’s father is my ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Messy, I know. (Quiet the insults spat at your computer screen until the end of the post, please. It does get worse). My son’s father is my girl’s ex-boyfriend. LOL. But really, I laugh because it's horrible, but it's not the dirtiest of our laundry. But all that in due time.

Currently, I’m being held hostage in New Jersey per court order because my son’s father doesn’t want me to move out of state with our baby boy. Fine. Moreover, he wants sole custody of our son. Nuts.

It was never gonna work.

My Baby’s daddy, let's call him BD for succinctness and anonymity, is a Bronx-bred, staunch white-people-are-devils-black-man-is-god Muslim who doesn’t eat pork ["Pigs were grafted in a laboratory by French scientists"], doesn’t touch alcohol [He physically doesn’t touch the stuff. He won't hold the bottle standing outside of a house warming party to which we were bringing wine as a gift for the host. Another story, another blog], believes he is the smartest person in the world [It is his ordained responsibility to correct you, by force if necessary, if deemed to be doing something “wrong” ie, listening to Hot 97 on the radio or watching Flavor of Love on VH1] and finally, is absolutely not turned on by two girls kissing [It’s an abomination!].

However, he's all for premarital sex though.

I, on the other hand, in my mid- (to late, depending upon when you ask) twenties, am about 6 years his junior; hail from the heart-of-the-Bible-belt Midwest; eat swine all day; am inclined to indulging in a nice buzz on the weekends; “love whitey” (let BD tell it. LOL); Am much more from the school of “you do you, umma do me;” And have learned not to share old college experiences with a new boyfriend as he may be the one man on earth who doesn’t think that shit is hot.

Who knew this mix-matched love affair wouldn’t be a fairy tale, right? Well it was damned from the beginning and sadly, had little to do with love.

Backtracking, now:
On a fluke -- I actually met the VP of the company on a flight layover in Indianapolis -- I got this totally less than fab job in an absolutely fabulous midtown New York building, so I packed up and moved from my home in my boring small town in the Midwest and headed for the bustling New York metropolitan area. Wide-eyed? Yes. This was about three years ago.

Young, single, childless and pre-pregnancy sexy -- which sadly, is not the same as post-pregnancy sexy. Sigh. -- I happened to run into BD one day in the city. (Before he was BD, of course. Stay with me).

So here I am, without a friend in all the five boroughs and much of New Jersey, when I lock eyes with BD. I hadn’t seen him in years, though my BFF -- or should I say, former BF. Clearly not forever -- Serita, still often talked about him, and he was just as handsome as he'd been on campus years earlier. (I just threw up in my mouth, but I vowed to tell the truth).

I know, I know. If he was sooo effin crazy, and if he was suuuch an unhinged sociopath, and if his world view was soooo skewed, WHY DID YOU GET WITH HIM?

Lemme tell ya, a booming, deep, authoritative voice taunts me in my sleep and awakens me out of REM every night around 3 a.m. demanding answers to that same question. You guys get behind that guy.

But it wasn’t like that in the beginning. I mean, is it ever? It was cool. It was on the up and up. It was friendly, kosher, all that. I mean we were old friends, right?

Sure … at first....