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Let me tell you about my jinky-ass wedding reception! So, we took an Uber to the hookah bar after we left City Hall, right! And we chilling. A-Dog was sleeping on the opposite side of the back seat, Steven was in the middle, and I was by the other window. I’m talking to Steven, you know, having fun with my legal husband, and all of a sudden, the Uber gets rear-ended. Boom!
We all jerked forward a little bit, then horns started going off, and the other drivers around the accident were cussing and honking. Now, our Uber driver was Indian, so he starts cussing in English and Farsi, I guess, because I don’t speak Indian, but he cussing.
A-Dog is screaming, “I got whiplash, yo!”
Steven snapped, “Niggah, that car ain’t hit us hard enough to cause whiplash.”
A-Dog snapped, whispering, “Niggah, all of us got whiplash!”
I said, “Niggah, we will not spend my wedding day in the hospital chasing an insurance settlement. Mr. Uber Driver, stop cussing and go out and get their insurance information before they peel off on your ass!”
Everyone got out of the car on Broad and Spring Garden, and the most flamboyant gay man I ever seen steps out of a motherfucking Mercedes Benz truck. He put on his Versace shades, and he started walking toward the Uber. He looked at the front of his truck, which was untouched, then he looked at the back of the Uber, which had a broken rear driver side brake light.
Honey, homeboy was snatched, okay! His eyebrows were arched, and his bag was Chanel, but his top was long, and made of Versace print, but it wasn’t buttoned up, and his body was cut, like he spent his whole life in the gym. I looked down at his pants to see they were Versace too, and so tight you could see the imprint of his dick, which was flaccid but big! Ohhh, he was humungous! And his shoes had to be some exclusive shit because I couldn’t place the designer.
I whispered to A-Dog, “I think we should say we got whiplash!”
A-Dog whispered back, in his fake gay voice, “Told you, bitch!!”
A-Dog and I turned to Steven, and he had a look of horror on his face, like he was looking at the gay ghost of gay Christmas past or something! Like the Gay Grim Reaper was there to take his soul forever for daring to defy fate by marrying a heterosexual woman.
I turned to A-Dog, who had the, ‘Oh, shit’ look on his face now, as if he just recognized the Versace-clad fruitcake who hit my Uber on my wedding day.
I asked A-Dog, a little scared, “What the fuck is going on?”
A-Dog shook his head in shame and said, in a fake gay voice, “Girl, that’s Tyler! That’s the other niggah that was fucking ya man before I found you!”
I said, in an equally gay voice, “What?”
A-Dog said, in an even gayer voice, “Yasss, bitch, and she came ready for yo ass pushing a Mercedes Benz truck! The drama of it all! Umm, you gonna let her steal your man, girl? Not on a bitch wedding day! Oh, Tyler, darling, you are a mess, girl! A mess!”
I sucked my teeth and said, “If she can steal him, then he wasn’t mine to begin with.”
Tyler walks past Steven, caressing his tightly clenched and nervous ass as he passed, and while the Uber driver is cussing up a storm, Tyler walks up to me, as if A-Dog and Dom didn’t even exist. He took those shades off, and the only thing gayer than his eyebrows was his baby blue contacts. Imagine a strong six-foot-tall black gay man with baby blue eyes and arched eyebrows, looking at you like you came underdressed to your own wedding. If I wasn’t a married woman, I would have dragged that hoe right then and there! But I knew what this was—Alex!
When I got engaged on my webcam show and ended it the other day, I elevated Alex. He’s running the new set from this warehouse I rented, as well as producing his own show. That morning, when I was in the shower, I called Alex to say that I was getting married so I wouldn’t be free until tomorrow. Now, I didn’t think about it until that moment, but Alex never said, “Congratulations!”
I was so busy trying to get dressed that I completely missed the shade in that. If you tell your gay employee that you getting married, ain’t they supposed to say congratulations?
Alex said, and I quote, “Ohh, I guess you got him after all, girl! Don’t worry, I can let the models in. Call me if you need anything.”
I said goodbye without picking up on the shade of it all, but now that Tyler was standing in my face looking beat to the Gods, I saw the shade. There was one problem though in Tyler’s planned slaying; his foundation. Bitch, he didn’t touch it up! Anyone who knows makeup knows that when a bitch been rocking her morning contour for eight hours with no touch up in between, the cheap cosmetics start to fall apart. That means this faggot was at City Hall all day, with no mirror.
I knew what this was, gay men running in close gay circles. Alex knew Steven, Tyler knew Steven, and Alex, duh, knew Tyler! I should have seen it coming, but looking at Steven’s face, he couldn’t have known that Alex knew Tyler. Steven looked as if he couldn’t figure out how Tyler found out.
Then I kept looking at Tyler, with his old foundation, and his dingy Versace, that close up, had sweat stains on it. A real diva would have packed a spare wardrobe to make sure she slayed when she ‘ran into’ the other woman, but this queen probably stole every piece she was rocking, or worse, borrowed it! Steven and I were rich in comparison in every way.
While Steven struggled to find the words to say anything, I said, in the cutest voice I could, “You must be Tyler! Bitch, where did you get that blouse? Oooh, I need that, gurl!”
A-Dog said, as gay as he could, “Oooh, bitch! You better read, honey!”
Tyler gave A-Dog the finger and said, looking me dead in my eyes, “Girl, you gotta be about ten years younger to pull this off!”
I couldn’t take her, so I snapped. “It’s okay, bitch! As long as ten years older equals more money in the bank, I’ll buy and sell your old faggot ass before I would ever buy that tacky-ass blouse! Nobody does tacky like you, sweetie!”
A-Dog said, “Bitch, you better read!”
Tyler snapped, “Fuck you, A-Dog! And as for Steven, honey, I haven’t made contact in over a year because I never had to make contact before. From the Benz that I push, to the red bottoms on my feet, to the imported silk boxers that I made your ‘husband’ remove with his teeth; it’s all courtesy of hags like you, and ‘gay men’ like Steven. When he gets tired of your old cam-hoe ass, he’ll use my number again. And you better believe I’m gonna take his money and buy me something nice. The gag is, next time I tap his pockets, that will mean I’m tapping your old-ass pockets too. You think I give a fuck, though? Straight money or gay money, it all spend the same where I shop, sweetie!”
I pulled every dollar I had on me out of my pocket and threw it at Tyler. “Well, bitch, no need to wait. Take that and buy yourself some class, hoe! Steven, get your scary ass in the Uber. This bitch will not ruin my wedding reception. Not today!”
A-Dog turned to Steven. “Damn, niggah, you gonna let your wife handle all your exes?”
Steven snapped, “Shut the fuck up, A-Dog!”
A-Dog said, defiantly, “You should have said that to Tyler’s diva ass!”
I turned to Tyler. “We headed to the hookah lounge on Cecil B Moore for our reception. Why don’t you call Alex and tell him that if he wants his job, he’ll have his faggot ass there within the hour. “
Tyler said, arrogantly, “Bitch, I am not your personal assistant.”
I said, “I don’t give a fuck what you are. Let Alex not be there in an hour and he’ll be riding around with your old fraud ass all day looking for a new sucker to fuck for a couple of dollars. I can’t believe I shed a tear for that shady hoe, but his ass gonna learn today!”
I mushed the hell outta Tyler and said, “Now approach me again and I’ll slap the shit outta your hoe ass on sight! Try me, bitch!”
As I got in the Uber, Dom walked up to Tyler. “You better be lucky I don’t fight women, or I’d knock you the fuck out!”
Dom and A-Dog followed me into the Uber, leaving Tyler looking on with pure hatred in his eyes as the Indian Uber driver demanded Tyler’s insurance information and grabbed as many dollars as he could off the ground.
Steven was apologetic, but I wasn’t mad at him. If anything, I was proud. Two faggots done tried to steal my man from me, and none of them were able to get him to leave. His best gay options don’t compare to me, so what man should I fear? Steven was mine.
When we finally got to the hookah bar after a ten-minute detour to pick up some blunts from a bodega, I screamed, “I’m married, bitches!”
The bar was packed with people, many of which recognized us from our many nights hanging out, drinking, and talking loud enough for everyone to hear. They knew us as a couple, and it seemed like they were truly happy to see that we actually went through with the wedding.
The bartenders made it an open bar, in my honor, even though I know Dom bought the bar out. This was my wedding day, and my best friend was in a white dress! Honey, I couldn’t have asked for a better reception! Dom just wanted me to feel like I was the queen of the world, and I did. But when the drinks started flowing, and people started talking, getting the real tea on who ‘we really were’ as a couple, things went left real quick.
It was as if we were in a place where we thought we were the stars of the show, only to find that people were laughing and applauding us because we were the comic relief! It was the spectacle of a straight forty-five-year-old woman who, although she still had it, had to settle for a gay man because she was too much of a whore in her day to land a ‘real man’ in ‘real life.’
The same bartenders that I once talked to as equals now looked at me like a sideshow attraction. As Steven took shots of cognac, hit hookahs, and laughed and danced and drooled all over himself, I had stopped drinking already. Now I was just looking, and I didn’t feel loved inside that quaint little hookah bar anymore.
Sentimental value aside, I married the love of my life in jeans and a tee-shirt and had our reception in a hookah bar. Was I asking to be treated like a spectacle? I mean, if this was truly an intimate affair, why did I make it messy by bringing it to the place where the shit show began? If Steven and I grew our love in our home, why celebrate it anywhere else?
A-Dog and Dom were all we needed at this reception, not a hookah bar full of drunk and/or high people who were secretly betting on how long the marriage would last, while smiling and saying congratulations to our face.
At one point, the two-faced bastards started bringing me cash wrapped in bar napkins, you know, as ‘a wedding gift.’ However, because nothing in life is free, there was at least one question for each napkin I accepted.
“I don’t mean to pry, but is this real, or is it like some new reality show or something?”
One drunk lady gave me three dollars and asked, “My son is a gay, you think you can find him a girl like you? You know, for church and all?”
Then, the stinkest man whoever approached me in life brought his drunk ass over to me with a hundred-dollar bill wrapped in a napkin that he conveniently wrote his number on. Then, the bastard had the nerve to say, “When you get tired of that dick sucker, give me a call. I’ll beat that old pussy up, I promise you!”
I don’t know whose drink I grabbed, but I didn’t care. The drink went from inside the glass to that stink-mouthed asshole’s face. Steven ran up to the man and pushed him into a table. I knew that Steven wasn’t a real drinker, but who knew he was actually a mean drunk, when provoked?
Steven screamed, “What did you say to my wife!”
I tried to calm him down, but he was enraged! He picked up a bar stool and hit the man with it. Then out of nowhere, Dom came and kicked the guy in the back. After A-Dog piled on and stomped the guy in the head, the bouncer grabbed the drunk man and escorted him forcefully out of the bar.
As I explained what happened to the bartenders, they apologized and did everything they could to assure us that we should not feel offended or threatened at our own party. They offered to clear the bar, but I wouldn’t have it. Mainly because, if I knew anything about Karma, I knew that Tyler and Alex would be there soon.
At this point, Steven wouldn’t let me out of his sight, nor would A-Dog and Dom, so we were clustered together when someone yelled, “These niggas is fucking in the bathroom! What kinda gay shit is this?”
Steven was with me, so it wasn’t my man fucking in the bathroom, so I didn’t care. But a few minutes later, the bouncer dragged Alex and Tyler out of the bathroom.
Alex was mortified, and he looked at me as if he was truly embarrassed, and shocked to see me.
I ran over to the bouncer and said, “Hold up, these are my guests! What happened?”
The bouncer released them. “They were having sex in the handicapped stall at your reception, ma’am.”
Alex said, “Her what?” Then he turned to Tyler and said, “What the fuck did you get me into?”
Tyler smirked at me. “The bitch said I had to tell you to come here, but she never said I had to tell you why. Luckily, you were already in the area, so we beat them here. Checkmate, cam-hoe!”
Dom lunged for Tyler, who stepped back and giggled like a schoolgirl, then Tyler said to me, “Oooh, bitch! Why don’t you just take the bulldagger and give me the gay, and we can act like this never happened!”
Alex, who was shocked at the vitriol and contempt in Tyler’s voice, turned to me. “You think I had something to do with this shit, Jo?”
I said, “When this bitch hit our Uber a little while ago I did, but now I see what it is.”
Steven was livid, at Tyler for crashing our wedding day, and at me for inviting Tyler to our reception. “Tyler, if you don’t get your thirsty ass out of my reception, I’m gonna kill you.”
Steven took a bottle off the table and broke it against the wall. Everyone, including the bouncer, stepped away, but I watched.
Steven grabbed Tyler by the collar and pressed the broken bottle to his neck. “She means more to me than any dick, or ass, or mouth you have to offer me, and I will go to jail for murder if you ever speak to her again! You hear me, nigger? I will kill your faggot-ass dead if you ever mess with my family again!”
The bouncer got his courage back in time to slap the bottle out of Steven’s hands and escort Tyler out of the hookah bar. Steven was so drunk that he stumbled, but A-Dog broke his fall. While the bartenders apologized to me again, I couldn’t hear them, because I watched Steven. He was stumbling, drunk, and mad! I couldn’t hear anyone or anything; just his breaths. They were fast, and deep, like he couldn’t breathe or something, but he wasn’t gasping for air or anything, just worked up and drunk at the same time.
He finally looked at me, and I smiled. My goal was to get him to see that I was happy, proud, and even turned on by him in that moment—married, protective, yet disappointed in me.
I played it off like everything was fine, and as Alex apologized for the hundredth time, I walked over to my husband. He had cut his hand on the bottle; not enough to need stitches but enough to need to clean the wound before it got infected. I reached for his hand, but he pulled it away.
For the first time in our relationship, I went to do something and Steven denied me. Before I could explain myself, or apologize, or tell him how sorry I was for inviting mess into our wedding day, yet again, he said, as cold as I ever heard him speak, “Get your ass in the bathroom.”
Steven didn’t wait for me, he simply stumbled into the bathroom. I stood there, scared to follow him, and he poked his head out of the bathroom and yelled loud enough for everyone else to hear, “Josephine, get your ass in here. Now!”
Everyone in the bar got silent. I was so embarrassed, yet so aroused at the same time. This once-timid loving man was defiantly daring me to defy him.
I couldn’t do anything but nod to everyone and say, “It’s okay! He just cut his hand. I’ll be right back! Go on through and enjoy the party! Drinks on me!”
I walked into the bathroom, and Steven was on all fours throwing up in the toilet. I rushed over to him, and rubbed his back, but he pushed me away again. I was pissed off, but I was also concerned about my husband, who looked like he was in physical and mental pain on the floor of that filthy bathroom. I couldn’t do anything except wait for him to speak. I watched him finish throwing up, and he reached drunkenly for the roll of toilet tissue. His eyes were closed as he wiped his mouth and then his cheeks.
I said, “Steven, we’re married now. You don’t have to do that yourself.”
He said, in a slurred voice, “Oh, we married, huh? I thought I was just your gay fuckboy.”
His tone said it all; I had embarrassed him with the spectacle that was inviting Tyler to our reception.
“What did you expect for me to do, Steven?”
He replied, while getting to his feet, “I expected you to make today about us, Josephine. I never expected the world to get why today was special for us, and I damn sure never intended for anyone in the bar to understand, but I did expect you to get it. That today was a fresh start for two people who spent a lifetime trying to find one another, not a day to let petty exes and drunk bar people dictate our mood.”
“Neither Tyler nor these people dictate my mood. You dictate my mood, Steven. Despite Tyler, or the man I drenched with a drink, I never said anything to suggest that my mood was ruined.”
Steven walked to the sink, rinsed his mouth, and continued, “I noticed you eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations. You think I don’t know you, and what you’re thinking? You’ve been so preoccupied with everyone else that while I’m drinking, smoking, and acting outside of my character on the happiest day of my life, my wife is ashamed of me and trapped in a place where she doesn’t even see that I can’t keep my eyes off of her. A gay man is literally eye-fucking the most beautiful woman in the room, and she’s too busy ear hustling to even notice that she is the only thing that matters today. Even though this is the last place I want to be, it’s the only place that made sense because of what today is to you, and to us, Josephine.
“If I saw that you were uncomfortable here, I never would have started drinking and smoking and dancing like a gay old fag. We would have left because of you. It wasn’t until Tyler and Alex got caught in here that I saw you looking at them the way the rest of this bar has been looking at me. Like I’m a degenerate, or so taboo that instead of being happy that I chose you like you chose me, you’re worrying about everyone looking at me like they were looking at Alex and Tyler. As if only the two 'real gays’ were somehow lower than the ‘fake gays.’ A gay man and the straight old lady who defied societal norms and tried to fake a ‘normal’ marriage.”
I never meant to upset Steven, but I never meant to make him feel taboo either. My beef wasn’t with Steven, or Tyler, or Alex, or gay men or straight drunk people, it was with myself. I had the man of my dreams, and the life I always wanted, and I didn’t have to work a webcam or pretend to want anyone. Yet, I let a room full of strangers distract me from the only man who ever showed up and showed out just to give me the best day of my life.
I replayed the whole night in my mind, and no matter what memory I thought of, there was Steven. Laughing, smiling, and dancing without me. Was I so shallow that I left the only man who ever showed his ass for my entertainment holding his dick, alone?
In the smelliest, puke-filled bathroom that side of I-95, I stood face-to-face with my husband. His breath smelled of liquor, his shirt and pants had throw-up on it, and for some strange reason, he was fully erect. He hadn’t had sex in a few days, and with the liquor and weed in his system, Daddy was ready for me!
I played hard to get. “You doing all this talking about what I did, but what you gonna do? Huh, niggah?”
I mushed him hard in his face, and he just looked at me with rage boiling in his eyes. It was so hot, better than anything I could have ever staged for my webcam show, and I planned to milk it for everything I could get. Not for me but for Steven. I planned to make him feel like the man he was, on his wedding day, and the shit couldn’t wait until we got home either. Hell, no! He was gonna show me and everybody else in that hookah bar exactly why I chose him.
I tried to mush him again, but he caught my hand and pushed it away, and he wasn’t playing either. I laughed condescendingly, like ‘Get the fuck out of here with that weak shit,’ knowing that he did push me a little too hard, you know what I mean? I had to play it off so he wouldn’t stop being The Man.
“You gonna be my man, or you gonna be my fuck boy? I’ll take whatever I can get, but I got my money on fuckboy! Fuckboy!”
I tried to grab his ass, but he pushed my hand away, even harder than the first time, and turned me around so that I was facing the sink. With enough force to tell me he meant business but gentle enough to say he loved me, he pushed my face on the cold wet sink and pulled down my jeans and panties. When he went inside of me, I screamed loud because I wanted everyone in that bar to hear me. I’m sure they heard me, but I don’t think Steven did, because my baby was beating it up! And better than any man had ever done before, I might add.
He gripped my waist tighter with each thrust, which made me scream louder, and louder, but this time, I wasn’t playing. I wasn’t in pain, I was in ecstasy. It was passion, love, and raw animal instinct all wrapped into one, and it was a side of Stephen I had never seen before.
He pulled my hair, slapped my ass, and even bit me on my back! Steven was an animal, and I was his prey. So, I was in that nasty-ass bathroom screaming like a madwoman because he was killing it! Beating it up, cracking my back, and showing me how a real beast was supposed to tame his woman.
After a while, I was screaming uncontrollably! A-Dog said it only lasted three minutes based on what they could hear, but I swear it was more like fifteen, if not twenty! When Steven finished, he collapsed on top of me. I laid there for a second, then I heard Steven snoring, and you know that he snored loud enough for everyone in the bar to hear.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door. It was Dom. I could hear her laughing on the other side.
I screamed, “What you want, bitch?”
Dom burst out laughing. “Bitch, a niggah gotta pee! Hurry the fuck up!”
As the bar laughed, and Steven slept, I slid from underneath him and maneuvered around fast enough to help him lay on the bathroom floor.
I pulled my pants up and said, “Okay, you can come in now. We good.”
To my surprise, Dom and the rest of the bar were on the other side of the fucking door. Now if I knew that, maybe I would have pulled Steven’s pants up, but thinking it was just Dom, I wanted her to see my baby’s glorious dick as a gag, you know? I figured, at least she would finally see why Steven is the only gay man that I could ever lust over sexually. But when I saw the whole bar at the door, I had the biggest look of shock on my face.
A few of them had their cell phones recording me with my hand over my mouth in horror as I looked at them, then down at my husband, who was laid ass down, and dick up, on the floor of the nastiest bathroom in North Philadelphia. Needless to say, I pulled my baby’s pants up, called an Uber, and took him home. Who knew that would be the day the paparazzi would enter our lives permanently?