Love Struck: Abusive Relationships Pt. 1
Written by Elle Capone
April 16, 2007

I'm tired of losing my home-girls to their no good boyfriends. This is one of those I don't respect you if you don't respect yourself, you like it I love it kind of stories. I've titled this part one because abusive relationships are like never ending sagas, they go on and on and on, if there isn't a part five there will at least be a part two.

Scenario: You're dating a guy for a few years, he gets you pregnant, beats you, you lose the baby and after playing Vivian Green on repeat, you finally leave and find out he got another girl pregnant at the same time as you and he's about to move the baby's mama in with him. Then the Skid row-Bum sends you a text message with a picture of the baby's mom and the baby with the caption "ha ha ha" under it. Wow.

So whatcha gonna do shortie? Let me tell you what my girl "B" (I'll refer to her as "B" because I’m not trying to put shorty on blast) did; she's still running behind that fool like a fat kid at a track meet. Lawd have mercy. I sat her down and spoke calmly on the situation, I tried to reason with her, and I screamed on her, I don't know how much more I can do for her as a friend. I told her she might as well slit her wrists if she's going to be with him because she’s abusing herself every time she gets back into that relationship.

She's not one of those females that never had her father in her life and or was sexually abused by a family member so now she's seeking all the love she can get from a man. This girl grew up with both of her parents, in a nice home, in a nice neighborhood. She had cool friends and a nice life. She got with this twerp and let him turn her whole world upside down. She doesn’t want my 2 cents she just wants me to have this revolving door that she can run in and out of when ever she has an issue with him.

I tried to explain to "B" that her "boy" is poison like the song says and that if I didn’t care I wouldn’t say anything and let her walk around looking crazy with her purple eye. He puts his hands on her and calls her "Bitch" like it's on her birth certificate. People treat their pets better than he treats her and it makes me sick to my stomach watching this bullsh*t.

Maybe I shouldn't care maybe I should let her stay with this dude, tell her "If you like it, I love it!", and wait for the day she tells me she has HIV or for a nurse to call me and tell me she’s in the ER and ask me for my blood type. Or maybe I've just seen too many Lifetime movies and after-school specials about teens in abusive relationships. Maybe I should tell her mama and daddy, take her ass on Montel; or write an article and publish it for other young women to read hoping they'll take heed and not have to walk in "B's" shoes.

Whatever I do, I won't hold my tongue. "B" recently stopped hanging out with me; she's got a new group of friends that don't know the truth about her and Jerk-Face. I pray for her every night, I guess some people can't know what love is until they experience what isn't.

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