He kept blowing up my phone. I ignored him. Then he got his mama, his grandmama, his aunties, all these people in his family to start calling me. They laid the guilt on thick, telling me that “You destroying him. He loves you so much. He’s so depressed. He can’t function without you.”
I never told them that he cheated on me or that he made this sex tape or anything like that. I don’t know why. As much bad as he’d done to me, I just didn’t want to do that. I knew how much they put him on a pedestal. They really loved him. I didn’t want to destroy that.
But they kept bothering me about him, making me feel like it was my fault. I know he didn’t tell them about all the shit he’d done to me. Then Anna pointed out some real obvious shit that I’d missed.
Anna: “Why you lettin’ him hide his dirty shit? You should make everybody in that family fucking pay. They knew about that bitch. If the little sister knew, they ALL knew. They knew what the fuck he was doing. They knew.”
She was right. They had to know. Ain’t no way the only person in the family to know the truth is some eight-year-old girl.
I devised a plan. Oh, it was so fucking devious. It was straight-up evil . . . but that motherfucker, and his family, deserved it.
First I got about fifteen bootleg copies of that movie Charlie’s Angels. It had just come out. Anna’s boyfriend was a bootlegger, and he helped me make some . . . alterations . . . to the movie.
I made copies for all the family members who called my phone, all of them that called me and was telling me, “He love you. You’re doing him wrong.” Christmas was coming up, so I wrapped them up real nice, and I sent all fifteen copies to his family members as gifts.
Then I ate a lot of corn. A lot. And I didn’t chew it so well. And I made a different present for him.
Once it was ready, I called him.
Tiffany: “I was tripping. I love you. I can’t live without you. You’re like the best thing that ever happened to me. I can’t be without you. I really want to be your girl. I just need you to stop messing with that chick.”
Titus: “I’m going to leave her alone. No problems. I wasn’t making no real money off of her anyways. Fuck the pimp life. I’m not going to live that life. I’m not doing it no more. It’s just me and you.”
I went over to his house, and I brought his shoes and other stuff back to him.
Tiffany: “Babe, we should, for our first thing together, let’s go play basketball. We should play basketball.”
Titus: “Bae! That’s what I’m talking ’bout!”
He was about to put on some regular shoes, and I stopped him.
Tiffany: “Nah, you should put on your Jordans, the ones you had at my house. You’ll be the freshest dude. You’ll be the shit on the court. You’ll be killing them out there. Put these on. If you’re my man, you’re going to be the finest dude out there.”
Titus: “All right. All right. I like this.”
He put his foot in the shoe.
Titus: “What the fuck? What’s in this shoe?”
He pulled his foot out and there was shit all over his foot.
And the shit was full of corn.
Titus: “What the fuck? Somebody shit in my shoe! Is that human shit?!? There’s corn in it!”
Tiffany: “Yeah, all the shit you put me through, NOW YOU WALKING THROUGH IT, MOTHERFUCKER!!!”
I took off running out of the apartment, because I figured he might try to do something. When you ruin a black man’s shoes, you never know what’s going to happen.
But then I stopped running. I realized he wasn’t going to do anything. Besides being a coward—which he was—he was not about to track shit all through his mama’s house, right?
Once I got outside, I could hear him yelling, screaming from his balcony, being all hysterical.
Titus: “YOU A DIRTY BITCH!! YOU A NASTY, DIRTY BITCH!!”
Later that day, his mom called me.
Mom: “Why would you shit in his shoe?”
Tiffany: “I hate your son. I fucking hate him. I mean, I love him, but I hate him. He’s a fucking loser. He’s a shitty-ass motherfucker. He wanna drag me through shit? Then he can walk in it, too!”
Mom: “Girl, you fucking crazy. Something wrong with you. You have a mental problem.”
Tiffany: “I didn’t have no mental problem until I met your raggedy-ass son.”
Mom: “And he got shit all over my carpet, how am I going to clean this up?”
Obviously, that broke us up for good.
But my master plan was not over. There was one more chapter.
Christmas Day came. I was at work at the airlines, at the ticket counter. My white manager came up to me.
Manager: “Tiffany, there is a woman on the phone for you. She is very angry. She sounds black, and she is . . . very, very angry. I don’t normally like employees taking personal calls on shift, but she is, well . . . she is very insistent that she talk to you.”
I already knew who it was, and what it was about.
Tiffany: “Hello?”
Mom: “MY CHILDREN SAW THAT!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! MY CHILDREN SAW THAT!!”
It was Titus’s mom. Remember the fifteen Charlie’s Angels VHS tapes I sent out to all of his family for Christmas?
I had Anna’s bootlegger boyfriend splice in the porn that Titus shot with Bertha, right into the middle of the movie.
He even made up a little title card that said “Titus’s Angel” that cut right to him fucking her.
Oh hell yes, I went there.
Mom: “WHY YOU PUT THAT FILTH IN MY HOUSE?!”
Tiffany: “WHY YOUR SON FUCKING AROUND ON ME WITH SOME HORSE-MOUTH HO?!?! ON MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!! WHAT’S UP WITH THAT???”
Then his grandmother took the phone from her.
Grandmother: “Oh my God, girl! You got my grandbaby dick out. I done had a seizure. I got these kids up in here watching Charlie’s Angels, and then all of a sudden, you got my grandson on here fucking this bitch.”
The whole family—it was like the kids, grandkids, everybody—sitting there watching. His whole family saw that shit. They all saw what a fucking lying cheater he was, they all saw them big gums and those tiny teeth. They saw it all. I was tired of being framed as the bad girlfriend, when I wasn’t. Titus couldn’t hide no more.
Then I heard his auntie in the background.
Aunt: “My nephew got a big ol’ dick.”
Grandma: “I should beat your ass. You better bring me every copy of that tape you got. Oh my God. You better not put my grandbaby dick on no Internet. I will sue you, bitch. I will have you killed, if you got my grandbaby dick out here like this.”
Best revenge ever, right?
That was the end of my relationship with Titus and his family.
But the fallout was not over. Oh, no. In some ways, it was just the beginning.
Because Titus tried to be a pimp (and failed), I ended up actually becoming a real-life pimp, but that’s another story altogether.
The Pimp Gets Pimped The day after the Charlie’s Angels Christmas, Bertha called my house, looking for Titus.
Bertha: “Hi. My name is Bertha, and I’m looking for Titus.”
Tiffany: “Titus don’t live here.”
Bertha: “Well, he calls me from this number sometimes. I can’t find him. He’s been missing for a couple of days.”
Tiffany: “He’s been missing? Oh, you that bitch, ain’t you?”