lesson three

Lesson Three: Never be in a relationship with somebody that's in constant competition with you.

Now, I'm all for healthy competition. There is no better way to stay on top of your game than when you know somebody wants your starting spot. Iron sharpens iron, right? That's all good for the playing field, maybe even in the bedroom, but to be in competition with your significant other all day, all the damn time gets old! Quick!

Like I said I met Casino in grad school, we had many of the same classes. If I got a higher grade than she did, we had problems. If I caught on to something quicker than she did, we had problems. I was a research assistant in undergrad and when we had a paper to write, we had problems. This was grad school, so yeah, there's always a paper to write.

She could do her thing but I couldn't do mine. As long as she was shining, we were good. If I got an inkling of a glimmer of light, we had problems. When we went out, I would always get compliments, and, of course, we had problems. If there was anything I did better than her, we couldn't do it. I love to dance. I was a dancer. I wanted to go salsa dancing. I didn't know how but I wanted to try. I sweet talked her into going. I started to catch on and got pretty good. Her ass went and sat down. She literally poked her lip out and pouted til i got sick of it and took her ass home.

This relationship was so draining. She even competed with me on shit I couldn't even control. I'm a little bitty chick. Always have been, probably always will be. My mother is the same size I am and she's a mother of 3 and is damn near 50. Casino couldn't stand that I'm a size 2. Granted I was a 2 when I met her. When we went shopping, she would suck her teeth and roll her eyes the entire time. Like it's my fault that I'm a size 2.

Casino and I are both ministers. We have two totally different styles of preaching. I guess I am a stereotypical Black preacher and she is a stereotypical White preacher. One is not better than the other, just different and both are needed. Whenever I got complimented on my sermons, she would sulk for days. However, when she preached, no matter how dry the sermon, I had to compliment her for days.

At least when playing sports, the game ends. The competition with her never ended. It was tiring. It was frustrating. It took its toll on my body, as well as my emotions. Imagine living life at the 2 minute warning, every second of everyday for 4 years. It's no wonder, then, that I was stressed, weight up and down, hair falling out, and on edge all the damn time. Again, wtf was I thinking cause this shit

Makes. No. Sense.