Authors: Electa Rome Parks
Dear Journal,
It’s after midnight and I can’t sleep. Again. I know I have work in the morning and will be sluggish all day, but for now, I can’t sleep. After the scene in the conference room with Drake, I’m wound up too tight. I feel like a jack in the box before it springs. I’ve got to figure out what to do about Drake. Now he has thrown sexual harassment into the mix. The layers of drama get thicker and thicker. How dare he put his hands on me? My instincts told me it was a mistake to start a relationship with him. Now I don’t know which way to turn.
Earlier, Mother called to check on me. I’m completely surprised that she hadn’t called sooner. She hinted around about Drake, but didn’t come right out and ask me anything direct. I knew all she sought and needed was confirmation that he was out of my life for good. She and Taylor were much alike in that they shared their intense dislike for Drake.
Now I am sitting with a steaming cup of green tea cupped between my hands and my journal propped up on my lap. As the tea relaxes me and my mind wanders back in time, I realize that Drake gave off clear signals from the very beginning that he wasn’t all he made himself out to be. I guess there are always signs if you are observant and watchful. A person, in time, will show you who they are. It’s true: If it sounds (in his case, looks) too good to be true, it probably is. Unfortunately, I refused to see the signs and was too much in love to care, until it was too late.
In the beginning, Drake treated me like a princess, his special princess, and he was my prince. We managed to keep our relationship under wraps at work and that made it even more thrilling. Passing each other in the lobby of our building or riding up in the elevator together, sometimes attending the same meetings…It was exciting to know we had been intimate and no one else knew. That was our little secret. I secretly smiled inside at the comments I overheard about Drake. He was the object of many of my coworkers’ fantasies. If they only knew that we shared a bed and all the things that they pictured him doing to them, he was doing to me.
Outside of work, Drake literally wined and dined me all across the city; we shared many expensive, intimate, and romantic dinners. Drake spoiled me with extravagant presents for no apparent reason. He always stated that if I was on his arm, I had to look like a million dollars.
Drake surprised me with spur-of-the-moment weekend trips and, of course, he took me to new levels in the bedroom. What more could a girl ask for? I had no complaints. I overlooked the fact that he sometimes tried to bully me into being more aggressive on personal and professional levels. Drake had an innate ability of picking up on a person’s weakness and running with it.
In our early months together, we were rarely apart from one another on the weekends. Occasionally, he’d fly home for a long weekend to visit his family or handle personal matters back in Los Angeles. He never went into detail about the personal matters and I never meddled. Even though Drake talked about his family, I still had never met any of them. I really didn’t think anything about it. I talked briefly to his mom and she was pleasant enough. I knew, in time, I would have the opportunity to fly to Los Angeles and meet them because I saw a clear future with this man.
I admit, sometimes I saw a darker side. I noticed but chose to ignore how he’d talk down to waitresses or waiters if everything wasn’t just right to his specifications at a restaurant. Sure, you should complain if something isn’t right with your food or the service, but Drake would be downright brutal with his comments. I noticed how he’d treat a hotel employee like they were several notches beneath him. The maids were treated like his personal servants who were placed in the hotel to service him and his immediate needs.
I’d heard the story of how, before he met me, he stayed at a five-star hotel in Chicago and had gotten all hot and bothered from watching a steamy show on cable TV. He had called downstairs and complained about the minibar not being fully stocked or the lack of fresh towels in the bathroom; I can’t remember. The housekeeping staff had sent a housekeeper up right away: a pretty, buxom Mexican woman.
Drake bragged about how, after just a little convincing, in the limited Spanish he knew, he paid her twenty-five dollars with a five-dollar tip to perform oral sex on him. She’d gotten down on her knees, unbuttoned the top of her uniform so that he could fondle her large breasts, and senorita went to work on him. Sucked him bone dry while he sat in a chair and played with her breasts. Afterward, she pulled back his covers and placed a mint on his pillow. Drake found great humor in sharing that adventure. It disturbed me for days.
Again, I heard and saw other signs. Love can make us act in ways that are unnatural to our very being. I remember the first time he focused his anger on me. Now, that was a different story. Suddenly, I took notice. One Friday evening, we had made plans to attend a party that one of his clients was hosting and had invited him and a guest to attend. It was an annual black tie affair. Drake gave me his credit card and told me to go out and shop for a sexy evening gown. He wanted all the men at the party to be drooling over me on his arm.
I did as he said, went out to Lenox Mall and purchased a gorgeous designer, sexy black evening gown. I even splurged on new shoes, an evening bag, matching accessories, and sexy lingerie. I knew what the end of the evening held in store for us.
I took my time and put in extra effort to get dressed that night; I had gotten a manicure and spa pedicure. My hair and makeup were perfect; I thought I was looking great. When Drake arrived at my door, his eyes told a different story.
“Hey, babe,” I said, planting a kiss on his lips and pulling him in from the doorway.
“You look so handsome,” I stated, admiring him in his tux. “Give me one second. I need to grab my wrap off the bed.”
It did not go unnoticed that Drake still hadn’t spoken.
“Wait. Come here, Kennedy,” he commanded, pulling me back to him roughly by my shoulders.
“Ouch. What?”
“What is this?” he asked, looking me up and down with disdain.
“You like?” I asked, thinking I was looking like Miss Diva as I swirled around and around for him to take me in from every angle.
“I thought I told you to buy something sexy.”
“I did. I’m wearing what your money purchased,” I said slowly as confusion registered on my face.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not. What’s wrong with this?” I cried, looking down at myself.
“That shit looks like something my mother would wear. Well, actually, my mother wouldn’t even wear that.”
“I know you aren’t serious,” I cried as big tears crept down my face.
“I’m very serious, Kennedy. I’m very disappointed as well. I don’t ask much from you and you can’t even get that right.”
“Drake, this is my definition of sexy. Very classy. I didn’t think you wanted me looking like a slut.”
Drake didn’t respond. I dropped my head because I didn’t want him to see my tears.
“I can change. Put on something….” I stated, walking toward my bedroom.
“No. We don’t have time. Let’s just go,” he screamed, walking ahead of me and out the front door. By the time I locked my door, he was waiting in the car. He didn’t even bother to get out and open my door. Drake sat behind the wheel and sulked like a baby, looking straight ahead. He wouldn’t even look at me.
The ride to the event was driven in complete silence. You would have thought I had committed a violent crime against him or something. Drake was steaming. I had never seen him that agitated. And at me. I would soon learn that if Drake didn’t get his way, there would be hell to pay. I wasn’t really paying attention to where we were going. All I knew was that the event was hosted at a hotel in Midtown and I was still trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with my outfit. When Drake pulled up into a popular gentlemen’s club, I came back to my senses and checked out my surroundings.
“Why are we stopping here?” I questioned, looking around. Loud music could be heard all the way in the parking lot. Drake stared straight ahead. I could see his jaw muscles flinching up and down as he attempted to maintain his composure.
“Just follow me,” he stated, coming around and opening my car door. As he helped me out, pulling me roughly by the elbow, he still hadn’t looked directly at me as he reached for my hand.
“What about the party?”
Drake dropped my hand, stopped, and gave me a look to kill. “Forget the party. I’m going to show you what sexy is. Put it in your pretty little head: when I tell my woman to dress sexy, next time you’d better follow my instructions. Understand?”
I didn’t say anything.
“I said do you understand?”
I nodded. “Drake, I don’t want to go in there. Are you crazy?”
“Come on, Kennedy,” he stated, taking my hand again and leading the way, literally half dragging me along.
“Look at how we’re dressed. We’ll stand out like a sore thumb. Everyone will be staring at us.”
“I don’t care. Quit worrying about what someone thinks of you. That’s your damn problem. Quit giving a shit about what everyone thinks of you. Live for yourself.”
I hesitated, still uncertain.
“Let’s go. I’m not going to tell you again.” He firmly gripped my wrist until it was painful.
I followed him in. For the rest of the night as he drank and watched the adult entertainment, I sat quietly by his side. I soon realized Drake was not a stranger to the club. Several of the waitresses and dancers spoke to him and called him by name.
Now and then, he’d point out one of the dancers who he thought was really hot and sexy. He’d hold up a few dollar bills and they’d dance over for an up-close-and-personal performance. Two hours later, Drake had pulled off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt collar, had downed three drinks, and had the strippers, the ones with the big breasts, giving him lap dances.
I shrunk further and further into my seat. I wanted to disappear. Half the time, Drake acted like I wasn’t even there anyway. He was so into the dancers that he totally ignored me; barely spoke to me. He was too busy copping feels and getting tatas rubbed across his face. I had never felt more humiliated in my entire life.
When I arrived home that night, I was so disgusted with myself and mainly with Drake. Why hadn’t I said something? Why didn’t I demand that he show me respect and take me home? I just sat there and let him embarrass and humiliate me in front of a room full of patrons. I didn’t invite him in to my apartment. And now, come to think of it, he didn’t ask. I took a long, hot shower after tossing the dreaded dress in the trashcan. I felt a need to wash away all the filth I had witnessed that evening. Drake included.
I was totally confused. I’d never seen that side of Drake before. At work, he was the ultimate professional. Up until that point, he had been the perfect boyfriend and lover. What happened? Was he showing his true colors now that he was comfortable with me, or was this a brief lapse in judgment?
I cried myself to sleep and pretty much tossed and turned all night. My dreams were filled with images of dancing girls who giggled and cooed and jumped to Drake’s every command. I knew in my heart I couldn’t continue a relationship in which I was disrespected. I didn’t have long to reflect on a decision.
The next morning, I received two dozen long-stemmed red roses, an invitation to brunch, and a heartfelt apology. Drake explained that he was under so much pressure at work and he wanted to make a good impression on his client by showing up with a sexy, gorgeous woman on his arm. Evidently, his client had a reputation as a ladies’ man and appreciated a beautiful woman. Because I didn’t want to lose him, I eagerly accepted his apology and explanation. All was good in my world again because Drake was still in it. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of a series of emotional abuses and breakups.