Tiffany: “Can he go home to his mom for six months, so I can learn how to just be a wife for a little bit? Can I just learn how to do that part for a little bit? Then he can come back, and then I can assume the mommy role? Because this is stressful.”
I loved the little boy, but I was instantly being thrown into this mommy role. And honestly, it made me feel like I was nine years old again, taking care of somebody, trying to do my thing, too. I was trying to learn how to be a wife and be a loving partner and all this also.
I was confused as fuck. That was a lot for me, because I was also trying to do my comedy. I was trying to do this for real. And then he told me he don’t want me talking about his son onstage, but his son is funny as hell. He’s doing really crazy, funny stuff, and I really want to talk about it, and he tells me don’t talk about him? Then he tried to tell me not to talk about him, either. But my whole world was those two. What else am I going to talk about?
There was all kinds of stress like that. Basically, he was trying to shrink my world down, until it was nothing but him and his needs. But I wasn’t about to let that happen, and I didn’t see what he was doing at the time.
Then the relationship got violent.
I was drunk one night, and I just kept saying over and over:
Tiffany: “I want to eat. I want to eat. I want to eat when we get to the house. I can’t wait till we get to the house. I’m going to eat that cabbage that you cooked. Oh man, it’s going to be so good. I’m about to tear that cabbage up.”
Only a drunk person could be excited about eating cabbage, so you know I was drunk as shit.
I honestly don’t remember how it happened, but we were in the kitchen, and I was trying to heat up the cabbage, and he choked the shit out of me. He told me I needed to shut up and listen, I talked too motherfucking much, and he choked me.
Now look—we’ve all been around drunk people we wanted to choke the fuck out of. And if I was raving about eating cabbage, then I was probably in that category. But still, it’s different to want to choke a drunk person, and to do it to your wife.
When he was choking me, at first I was just like, What the hell? Like, I could not even believe I was being choked.
Then my survival instincts kicked in.
I grabbed the pan on the stove next to me, and I hit him with it. He dropped his hands, and staggered a bit.
Now that I had my senses, and I could breathe, the rage came.
I threw a vicious right hand and punched him in the eye. That staggered him more, I guess he didn’t expect me to fight back.
I grabbed the first thing I could find, which was some pet spray—stuff for the carpet, for pets, you know? I sprayed that in his face. Apparently, that shit don’t feel good, because he started covering his eyes and screaming.
I didn’t stick around after that, I just wanted to get the fuck out the house.
But as I was running, somehow he caught me and tackled me and sat on me. He closed the door and just sat on me. He sat on me for about forty-five minutes, until I was just not moving or whatever.
He sat on me so long, because I kept fighting. I’d be still for a second, and just like bam, you know, flip out and try to get up out of there.
Ex-Husband: “You need to listen to me. You’re disrespectful. You’re ornery.”
Tiffany: “But you picked me. You married me. You came looking for me. I didn’t come looking for you. If you don’t like who I am, why the fuck you here? Let me up, and I’ll go.”
Ex-Husband: “Just shut the fuck up.”
But I wouldn’t shut up. That ain’t my thing, shutting up. He sat on me and lectured me, telling me how fucked up I was as a person or whatever for like an hour. Finally, he got off me, and he dragged me into the guest room and locked me in the guest room.
Ex-Husband: “You’re not coming out till you’re calm. Bitch, you stay in the holding tank.”
I was a prisoner. In my own home.
Ladies, a quick word of advice: that shit is a felony. I did not know it at the time, but someone locking you away without your consent is straight-up kidnapping. A felony. I should have just called the police, but I didn’t know that.
He kept me in there till the next day.
Ex-Husband: “Are you ready to be a mature adult now? Are you ready to talk up a conversation like a regular adult?”
Tiffany: “Yeah, let’s talk.”
He opened the door, and I walked straight out to the bedroom, got out my suitcase, and I started packing my shit.
Tiffany: “You can talk to me while I pack my shit. I’m leaving. I’m out of here. I’m going go to my grandma’s house.”
Ex-Husband: “Not in my car. You’re not taking my car.”
Tiffany: “That’s okay. I’ll take my Geo Metro.”
That thing was barely working, but I wouldn’t get rid of the Geo.
Tiffany: “I still got my apartment. I’ll go back to my apartment with my ornery ass.”
Ex-Husband: “No. You don’t got to go nowhere. I’m out of here. I’m leaving.”
He just got in the car and left. That was easy. Then his mama called me:
Mama: “Why did you send my son home? What the hell?”
Tiffany: “I didn’t send him nowhere. Your son choked me. Your son sat on me. Your son locked me up. Your son is abusive.”
I took pictures of my throat and stuff and sent them to her.
Mama: “Oh you’re a great actress. You’re a wonderful makeup artist.”
Tiffany: “I ain’t no makeup artist. Did you see my makeup at the wedding? I did that myself, and it was horrible, so knock that shit off.”
I ended up taking him back. He apologized, sort of, and sent me gifts, and I felt terrible about everything, and we got back together.
I felt like maybe it was my fault, because I was intoxicated. Maybe I wasn’t listening. Maybe I was doing too much wrong. So maybe it was my fault. That’s how I felt at the time.
I know, I know. You’re right. I should not have taken him back. It’s easy to sit here now and evaluate this and see I made the wrong decision. I know that.
But it wasn’t easy for me, at the time. A lot of women who suffer physical violence go through this. You get in a bad relationship, and you don’t—or you can’t—find your way out. It’s easy to talk about leaving him. It’s hard to do it. Part of you really thinks it will get better, and he said it would.
Obviously, it didn’t get better.
One night at the Laugh Factory, a bunch of friends from high school came in and saw the show and had a great time. Afterwards, we went next door, and they had drinks. I didn’t have any drinks because I had to drive seventy miles home, I just danced around. I got home about 2:30 a.m. and I hadn’t called him to tell him I was going to be out with them or anything. He was very upset.
Ex-Husband: “Where the fuck was you at?”
Tiffany: “I was with my high school friends, they showed up to the show to surprise me! Man, it would have been so great if you would have been there.”
I was all smiling and happy. He just lifted me up off the ground by my throat.
Ex-Husband: “Don’t be standing here lying to me, smiling in my face, telling me you were dancing with some bitches, you a motherfucking liar.”