This man was betraying me so much right now. A feeling of disgust for him came over me. I was disgusted by him, and I felt disgusted for myself for being so blind. You know?
I was crying so much. You know how you do that quiet crying, like the tears are coming out and you’re breathing hard, but you don’t want nobody to hear you crying? I remember I was just covering my face, just trying to hold it together, tears running through my hands.
And quite frankly, the head was not good. It wasn’t. It was, like, the worst.
Eventually, he came banging on the door.
Titus: “You all right in there? What the hell?”
So I started making throw-up noises, acting like I was puking. I was just so disgusted with him, I needed to find a way out.
Tiffany: “Man, I’m sick. I’m not well. I need to go home. I’m going to go home, all right? I’m so sick. I cannot function right now.”
I left. I got in my car. It was raining bad. I got in my car, and I started full-on crying. Like, heaving sobs, makeup-stained tears running down my face, all that shit.
I pulled myself together, and I started to drive off. I got down to the street, and all of a sudden I was like, What the fuck was on that damn tape? What the fuck was on that tape? I need to know what the fuck was on that tape.
I parked a block away, and walked in the rain back to his place. My hair was fucked, but I gave zero fucks at this point. I broke into the apartment building that he lived in with his mom. I hopped over this gate and jumped into the dumpster. I was diving in that dumpster for like an hour looking for that tape.
And I found it.
I was so dirty. I just remember feeling like a piece of shit. I felt like garbage—I literally had actual garbage all over me—but I had to find out what the hell was on this tape.
This was one of those mini-videotapes, and I needed an adapter to play it on my VCR. Once I had the tape, I drove around for about three and a half hours looking for an adapter. I drove all the way to Orange County, still smelling like garbage, trying to get one, but no one had it.
I bought a pack of cigarettes. I didn’t even know how to smoke. I went home, and I smoked like three cigarettes. I was going, I hope this kills me right now. I have no idea why I thought three cigarettes was going to kill me, but I did. That’s how fucking loopy I was right then.
At 5 a.m., I called my friend Anna. Her work involved some kind of media stuff, and I remembered she had the same kind of video camera as Titus had.
Tiffany: “Can I borrow your camera?”
Anna: “What do you need it for? What’s going on? It’s 5 a.m., what you need a video camera for? You murder someone?”
Tiffany: “I just need it.”
Anna: “Why do you sound like that?”
Tiffany: “I just smoked cigarettes.”
Anna: “Why are you smoking cigarettes?”
Tiffany: “This motherfucker scratched my face, and I found his videotape in the dumpster and I just hope I die.”
Anna: “What does that have to do with cigarettes? What is going on?”
Tiffany: “Anna, look . . . you want weed? I’ll get you some weed if you let me borrow that camera.”
Anna: “Okay, yeah. Bring me some weed, and I’ll bring my camera.”
I got the weed and went over to Anna’s. I guess I was in worse shape than I realized.
Anna: “Tiffany, you need to calm down. You should probably hit this weed.”
Tiffany: “Fuck the weed. I just need that video camera. I need to go home and watch this tape.”
Anna: “Tiffany, I ain’t givin’ you the camera till you hit the weed and have a drink. You need to relax.”
She opened a bottle of Cisco. It was peach Cisco, because we classy. We sat there, 7 a.m., smoking weed and drinking peach Cisco. Then I calmed down a lot.
I went home and plugged the video camera into my TV. Oh man, it was so bad. Lemme try to explain it.
It’s that girl, Bertha, that his sister told me about. It starts out with them talking.
Bertha: “I’m better than your girlfriend, Tiffany. I can do everything better than her. She’s not all that. You always talking about her like she’s so special, but she’s not special.”
Titus: “She is special. But I’m going to have to teach you how to do it better, because you’re not making me enough money. I’m going to teach you how to suck a dick right.”
Bertha: “Okay. Show me how to suck your dick right.”
Titus: “Now, when Tiffany sucks my dick . . .”
I just started bawling out of control.
The whole tape was “Tiffany does it this way” and “No, when Tiffany do it, she don’t do this. She do this.” And she was all into it, “Does Tiffany do this? Does Tiffany do it like this?”
I cried hard. For a long time, I just cried and cried. I cried until I cried so much that I got fucking dehydrated. I cried all the fucking water out of my body.
Then I started to get pissed. I realized this motherfucker is giving this bitch all my fucking tricks. Ain’t that some bullshit?
Then he started fucking her. And he’s fucking her without a condom.
And my birthday is time-stamped at the bottom of the fucking video.
I wasn’t crying no more. I started screaming at the TV. I was screaming at the TV like some crazy woman, I was so mad.
And that bitch’s face. Oh hell no. You ever see them chicks that got the big gums and little baby teeth? That was her. That old dog-mouth bitch was staring at me as she got fucked by my man, on my birthday.
I watched it probably about four times. I called him.
Tiffany: “I’m done with you. This relationship is over. I’m not fucking with you no more. I fucking hate you. You a dog, nasty, dirty-dick motherfucker. You ain’t shit.”
I was just going in on him, right? For, like, fifteen minutes, I used every curse word and bad thing I could think of. I didn’t let him get a word in, I didn’t listen to shit he said, I just went in on that motherfucker.
A few hours later, he showed up at my house. He walked in and saw the tape playing.
Titus: “How did you get that tape?”
Tiffany: “How you think I got it, you dumb motherfucker?”
Titus: “You fucking crazy. You a crazy bitch going in the trash like that. That shit is garbage.”
Tiffany: “You best get the fuck out my house, before I commit murder.”
Titus: “Oh come on Tiff, that doesn’t mean anything. I was teaching her. I was teaching her.”
Tiffany: “Nah, you a fucking cheater. You a liar. Your sister was right.”
He was thinking he would take the tape from me when he came over there. HELL NO! I hid that shit, then I called the police.
Tiffany: “You best to get out of here. The police coming.”
That phrase will scare off any black guy (except Obama . . . maybe). He left so fast, he didn’t even get his clothes and shoes and other stuff he had left at my place.
Once he left, my anger subsided, and the sadness came back. I was just devastated. This hurt so much.