Ask The Right Questions, Get The Right Answers

Over the next few months we continued seeing one another frequently. I would fly to his city. Attend his games. Meet his children. And, a few more family members. Preston and I were becoming more and more comfortable with one another. But, something was always nagging at me. Something about the timing of my appearances of when I could come to town, and how we never stayed at his home. Each visit I was in a five-star hotel. Now don’t get me wrong I like living the highlife, however I did want to wake up with Preston in his bed, in his home.

While I was anticipating my next trip to visit Preston I called him, like I did after each of his team’s practices. He always immediately answered my call. It was clockwork. This time however another voice was on the other end. A soft voice. A woman’s voice.
“Hello?” I said unsurely thinking I dialed the wrong number.
“Hello,” the woman repeated.
“Uhm, may I speak with Preston?” I asked. Maybe this was the woman he had on the side. This was his cover girl I thought.
“He’s not here. Who’s calling?”
My mind is racing. Who is this woman? Preston never lets anyone answer his phone. It’s literally stuck to him like glue.
“Oh, this is Terrance.”
“Oh, hello Terrance. This is his wife,” she said. “Preston’s told me all about you.”
WIFE!! WIFE!! I kept repeating in my head. Preston never told me he was married. He never said he had a wife. And he told her all about me. WHAT THE FUCK!!!
“Heeeey,” I sang trying to play it off as if she and I had been longtime acquaintances. “How are you? Could you tell him to give me a call when he can?”
“No problem. It was nice to finally talk to you,” she said and hung up.

I was heated. Pissed. Fuming. My heart was racing. My mind swirling. Then the gut-wrenching truth sank in. It sat in the pit of my stomach. Churning.

Then I remembered something a man I used to sex told me, and I wrote about it in my book, Hiding In Hip Hop, “If you don’t ask your man the right questions, then you will not get the right answers.”

I never asked Preston if he was married, and he didn’t feel compelled to tell me. I didn’t ask. For one, I never saw a wedding band. Preston never wore his ring. I knew and know of a lot of down low men who don’t wear their wedding bands. Even heterosexual men who are having affairs take their wedding bands off.

Secondly, I never questioned why I didn’t spend the night at his home. I thought about it, but I was caught up in the whirlwind of the romance. I didn’t look for the clues of pictures of the women in his home. I assumed from the pictures I did see that the women were relatives. I didn’t think that anyone of them could have been his wife. His home also reflected his style and taste. I never noticed a woman’s presence. But, oh, this wasn’t his primary home, it was a second home.

I learned all of these things once Preston and I did have a conversation. And, yes, we did have a serious conversation. One thing I cannot and will not condone is sleeping with a married man. I have done it in the past, but it was when I was living a down low life. I was so desperate to be with someone and I didn’t allow my morals or values to dictate to me what I did. However, I am not that person any longer. I am no longer a down low man. I am gay.

Preston and I no longer communicate. The relationship immediately ceased. I thought about his wife. I thought about the deception and lies he does to her, and did to me. Don’t get me wrong, I was at fault as well. I admit my downfalls, and shortcomings.

You know, I have learned something really powerful. It is that all good things do come to an end. That no matter how wonderful and sweet the honeymoon, and how amazing things seem to begin, they all fade. And with that, Preston ended. For both the good of he and I, as well as his wife. There was no good to come of that situation. He is now a faded memory, a faded picture as Case sang so eloquently, "Faded pictures of a distant past..."

Check back tomorrow to see what's in Terrance's future