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Are You A Side Chick or a Boss B*tch?

Becoming a side chick can either be a choice or the unfortunate path that life led you in. However, in both cases, is the side chick really the one to blame? Why does she have to be slandered as a side chick? Maybe, she just made the mistake of trusting a man. Not too long ago, I was deemed a side chick. I was in love and I trusted a man. But, I learned he had a fiancé when logging onto Facebook one Sunday afternoon. After this information surfaced, I lost respect, friends and the future I was working hard towards. Yet, because of this situation, I gained a business, a better future and a better concept of this term side chick. I learned that side chicks are boss b*tches too. 

Besides a childish college fling that I had with a basketball player, who lived in the dorm next door. Every Thursday night after $2 shots at a local bar, I found myself in his dorm room making-out. We called this night, “Thirsty Thursdays.” I knew he was dating this certain cheerleader and that never stopped me or him from our routine make-out session. Anywho,other than that, I had never been involved in any side chick activity. However, unfortunately, it happened to me by surprise. Here’s how I became a side chick.

 I was in a long-distance relationship with a man I knew for over ten years. We actually dated in high school. We lost contact for about seven years and I was completely fine with that. I continued living my life happily in Los Angeles, CA. He initiated contact with me after all of those years and persistently attempted to spark old flames. I was reluctant at first. I thought, why move backward?But, with the sweetest gestures- he eventually wore me down. 

He came to Los Angeles every other weekend to visit and was planning on moving there to be with me permanently in a few months. We even started apartment shopping. But, I logged on to Facebook one day and learned that he was engaged to another woman living in Georgia. And, (drum roll please) I was the side chick. I had over twenty Facebook notifications of comments from people calling me a side chick, home wrecker, slut and much more profanity that would make a woman cry. But, not me. I had other plans-no time for crying. 

Although I will admit this was extremely hard to make sense of. When did he have the time to be engaged to another woman? How long did he expect this to go on? Then the biggest question of them all: WHY ME!? The commentary from social media was horrid. However, the commentary from my friends was even worse. Some of my closest friends showed no sympathy for me. They only ridiculed my situation and repeatedly questioned me about how I didn’t know. As if I was the dumbest girl on earth. So, along with losing the love of my life, I lost a few friends as well. 

This level of deceit had never happened to me before. I think I was too hurt to be sad. I felt motivated. I wanted to fix my life and forget this ever happened. I put all my energy into starting a business that I had put on hold for the past two years. This side chick became a boss b*tch. I launched my store (with help from his money from our apartment fund) six months after this blow-up. Beyoncé said it best, “the best revenge is yo’ paper.”

I met a new friend at this time. Her name was Italy and we met at a networking brunch event. I had one or two many mimosas on an empty stomach. Italy volunteered to guard the bathroom door for me as I puked.  After that mishap, we continued to vibe the rest of the event. We started talking about men and it had turned out that Italy was currently a proud side chick. 

Italy’s story was a little different than mine. She was warned about being a side chick in advance. I had so many questions:

“Why would you willingly walk into all of that drama?” I asked. 

“Girl, what drama?” She replied. 

“I know how to play the cards I’m dealt”

This led to a deep discussion about side chicks. We lost all interest in the event. Italy explained how lately every man that approached her was in a relationship. At first, she was opposed to dating them. However, she said it was nonstop, and it began to make her feel insecure. She wondered, what was it about her that attracted this shady behavior from men? Italy is a hair stylist and salon owner. She’s very private and mostly a loner. She didn’t wear provocative clothing and carried herself as a young professional woman should. Still, men chose her as the side chick. “I realized it’s because I’m a boss b*tch,” said Italy. “These men aren’t happy with themselves or their partner. They have the insecurities, not me… I think they admire me and know they could never keep me, so they’ll risk it all just for my company. I don’t prefer this, but I’ll do it on my terms” 

She did state she’ll never mess with a married man (thank goodness). Italy is currently dating and having occasional sex (onlywhen she wants to) with a man in a relationship. She figures if that man decides to cheat on his girl, that is his problem, not hers. Italy doesn’t expect a relationship with this man. She made sure that he understands that as well. “I make sure he knows not to come to me with problems or anything other than a good time. I’m not your girlfriend and never will be.” 

According to Italy, she’s still waiting on a loyal man. But, until then she’s just dealing with what is present. “If it isn’t me it’ll be someone else and I doubt I’m the only one” -Italy.

I understand Italy’s stance. Instead of allowing him to control the terms of their situation, she took the wheel. If he wants her to be a side chick it has to be beneficial to her. Ladies, we always have the right to choose no matter what society labels us. Every side chick has her own story. I have mine and Italy has hers. I don’t like to share much; therefore, I could never willingly take a walk in Italy’s shoes, but would you? 

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T. Rogers

T. Rogers is a reader by day and writer by night. With over 7 years of content writing, she continues to prevail in her world of sour patch kids, expensive shoes and awkward moments that spark her courage to tell the greatest stories never told.