By Jason Dunbar
Hometown: Woodbridge, NJ
Major: Radio, TV, Film
I have just become a victim of my own crimes. I have just been played at my own
game. If one had seen how I used to operate, one would say I was a philanderer
or, in urban colloquial terms, a “player”. It was something that just became
a way of life for me; it was routine. In my day, I would “kick my game”, so
to speak, and at night, I would have indiscretions of my own kind. Day after
day, I would break hearts of innocent girls. I would tell those ladies that I
loved them, but, in actuality, it was a short-lived lust. Playing the role of a
thief in the night, I would say those special words that females love to hear
just to capture their heart and soul after the sunset, then I was off by the
break of dawn to seek my new victim. It was a scandalous lifestyle that I had
become accustomed to. I thought that I could do this forever until…
Her name was Faith. I met her during my third year in college. At first, she was
nothing more than another target I was trying to hit, but little did I know, she
would end my “career”. She was a very attractive lady from New York and was
here at school studying law. She had direction. She had her own ambition. She
was independent, and maybe that is what attracted me to her even more. After
getting to know her better, I started to see her in a different light. She
stimulated me mentally, was fit physically, and comforted me emotionally and
sexually. She was the perfect package. I started to look at her as someone I
could be with for the long-term, someone whom I could be with for the rest of my
life. We soon became inseparable. Where I was, she was, and vice versa. I never
met anyone who impacted my life to such a great extent as she did. I was in love
with her, and for some reason, I thought she was in love with me too.
Things slowly started to feel strange to me after awhile. I got the feeling in
my stomach that something was wrong. It first happened when I said “I love
you” to her on the phone one day and she refused to reciprocate the comment.
Then, I would call her on her cell phone, only for her to say that she was busy
and had no time to converse. Soon, she never had the time to do anything. One
day, while hanging out with her, I leaned over to kiss her, and she quickly
shoved her hand in my face. When asked why, she said that she didn’t think of
me in that way. She told me that I was probably falling in love with her and
that she only viewed me as a mere friend. In fact, she said that, at the present
time, she only wanted male friends—ones with whom she could be comforted,
physically or financially, and only when the occasion called for it. After
placing a kiss to my forehead, and thanking me for all that I had done for her,
she walked away, and I never spoke to her nor saw her again. I had been played.
It has been two months, and I still sit here sadly nursing my inner wounds. I
guess it was deserved. It was inevitable that something like that would happen
to me. I just wished I would have seen it coming, but it was only a matter of
time before game recognized game. As I retired from that “game” and hung up
my proverbial towel, I recognized that life, in general, is like a boomerang:
what you throw out will come back to you later on in life.
© 2001 Jason Dunbar
© 2001 Howard University.
(First Published in limited print edition, An Anthology of Verse and Prose, by the Composition for Honours Class, Howard University, Spring 2001. Professor E.R. Braithwaite)
HOWARD UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES, 500 Howard Place, NW, Washington, DC 20059. Phone (202) 806-7234.