True Story: I Was Dragged by Social Media When My Wedding Video Went Viral

Photo BlackLove.com
By Nicole Pender

“Love is patient, love is kind, love requires longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, and faith.”

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True Story: I Dated a Guy with a Foot Fetish


By Tiffy Kink

When it comes to dating, I am a huge fan of three things: Openness, comfort, and communication. Openness, meaning nothing is off limits to talk about, comfort, meaning both parties in the relationship never feel as though they will be ostracized for having opinions that differ from the other party, and communication, being able to have an open-ended dialogue where we listen to one another not for the sole purpose of reacting to ones words but understanding them and asking one another to clarify ones point and hear each other out. While I do believe all three are encompassed in the word communication, I don’t believe that many people consciously apply openness and comfort into the dialogues they have with their partner.

So what does all of this have to do with dating someone who is into feet? A damn lot, that’s what.

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True Story: I Became a "Trailing Spouse" and Hated It


By Nissa Francisco

Over seven years ago I left Canada to live in London where my husband was pursuing a work opportunity in his career. The idea of moving to a different country to be with him was something I didn’t think twice about at the time. There was nothing more thrilling to me than having the opportunity to support his career endeavors while giving me the opportunity to start fresh somewhere I had never been before. I had just fought my way to finishing a Masters degree I wasn’t even sure I wanted, while working a full-time job that was not fulfilling or progressive in the ways that I had hoped it would be. I was really beginning to question my purpose and my life condition was at an all time low. London seemed like just the shake up I needed. I would take the opportunity to pursue interests that I would never dare pursue in Canada while taking advantage of a new culture and way of life. I worked in fashion retail, took acting classes and completed a course in fashion buying and merchandising. I ended up working for a really great start-up clothing company and could see myself growing with their brand…but I still wasn’t happy.

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True Story: I Was Dying Until I Took Out My Breast Implants

Photo courtesy of Sabrina Nelson
By Sabrina Nelson 

I was 21 when I got breast implants in 2002. My boyfriend at the time suggested I get them and even offered to pay for them if I lost 10 pounds and I was only 110 pounds at the time. He was 10 years older than me and had implanted an ideal image of what I should look like in my head. This was the Pamela Anderson/ Carmen Electra era when extremely skinny with large breasts were in. I was a 34aa. Yes smaller than an A cup. I was also waitressing in Las Vegas so small breasts were not attractive for the typical cocktail waitress. I went to a popular doctor in town, the only doctor I consulted with, and decided on him to do my procedure. Electing to have surgery was extremely scary and I didn’t realize it until I lying on the operating bed about to go in for surgery. Up until then the excitement overcame the fear.

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True Story: I Removed My Weave in Front of My White Classmates


By Onicia Muller

In celebration of completing our freshman year, we’d decided to gather at a cohort’s apartment to watch one of the final World Cup matches.

The weeks leading up to that fateful day were epic. I’d figured out how to save costs on books so I could splurge during Spring Break. Florida was magical: we got T-shirts with custom airbrushing, ate some delicious BBQ, and had an authentic African American salon experience. My stylist argued with her baby daddy on the phone while doing my hair. Amazing! My leave out blended seamlessly with the highlighted wefts. Those feathered layers, ooh child, I was living!

True Story: My Mother Shut Me Out When I Started Suffering from Depression at Age 14


By Shanice-J-Douglas

It has been about 10 years since the relationship that I once had with my mother transitioned into the crumbled shell that it is today. Today, the status of this non-relationship is not a bother to me, and I know that many people wouldn't understand that.

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True Story: The One Time I Disobeyed My Mom She Kicked Me Out


By Onicia Muller

“Get out of my house! You think you grown?! 

After seven long years of high school (it’s a Dutch/Caribbean island thing), I had less than a month before leaving for college. I could practically smell the jet fuel and salted peanuts! However, what was supposed to be a summer of fun parties and sappy goodbyes became known as the summer my mom kicked me out.

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True Story: I Became a Surprise Stepmother


By TaNeisha Gates

My partner walked into the room bearing a brown envelope, and the look he gave me, I immediately knew something was wrong. I had only seen that look a few times in our lives together. The day his mom passed was one of them. He sat at the dining table, opened the envelope, and indicated that I should take a look. I did so, and just from peeping over his shoulder, I saw a name at the bottom of the page. I knew that name. Now I wished I could un-see what I saw. I wished I could unread what I read, but it was too late.

True Story: I Married a Weed Head Part 2



By Angela Perry


He quit. For anyone who read part 1 of this story you know that things were getting bumpier than the Democrat’s road to take back the Senate. But he quit. It took basically alienating myself from him and ultimately deciding that I was just going to leave him alone. Meaning, I wasn’t going to get mad at him anymore for smoking. I came up with that because I felt that I was only hurting myself every time I got mad, while he continued on. Now it didn’t mean that I was going to smoke myself, because I quit. It also didn’t mean that I was going to sit with him while he smoked. I had shit to do. But he stopped; and while I'd like to think that it had something to do with me, I can't take that credit. So how did he quit?

True Story: I Negotiated How Long My Man Should Go Down On Me




By TJ

“Are you going to cum?” asks my dude of some months, breaking the momentum of going down on me to rub his neck once again.
“Yea. I’m close.”
“You said that 15 mins ago.”
Sigh.
“You can’t have me down here all day.”
“Ok. So what’s the cutoff time?” I ask.
“Hunh?”
“What’s a decent amount of time that you feel comfortable?" I repeat.
“15 no more than 30 mins.”
“That’s plenty!”
“But you already used up 30," he says.
“That can’t be right," I frown.
“You do it all the time.”

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True Story: I Witnessed a Murder in Amsterdam


By Erickka Sy Savané

His eyes meet mine. They are the coldest, darkest eyes I have ever seen, and this I can tell from all the way across the street. What a life this person must have lived to have eyes that could damn near kill you. I force myself to look away. As does my friend Vanessa who is feeling, I’m sure, the exact same way. It is impossible to see what we see and not be affected. In silence, we turn our heads in front of us, pick up our pace and carry on to the club that is our destination. We don’t speak the entire way. There is this knowing that to even talk about it before we are somewhere safe is in some way putting ourselves in jeopardy. It is best to pretend that everything is fine. But when the doors to the club shut behind us we exhale for the first time in at least ten solid blocks.
“What the hell was that?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think we’re safe?”
“I don’t know,” says Vanessa.

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True Story: I Married a Weed Head.



By Angela Perry

Let me start by saying that I didn’t know that I was marrying a weed head. Well, I kinda did. I found out that he was a closeted daily weed smoker after we’d already been dating a year. I was already in love with him so it wasn’t a reason for me not to get married. One day, he confessed that he’d been smoking weed every day since before we met and didn’t tell me because he didn’t think that I’d be cool with it. Damn straight, an occasional smoker myself, I wouldn’t have signed up to be with a heavy smoker. My father, who I never lived with and barely had a relationship with, had substance abuse issues so men struggling with drug issues was not my thing. I even went to a narcotics anonymous meeting once with a friend years ago and they warned me of the danger of falling for a man I could save. Classic, co-dependent, child of a substance abuser shit.

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