Chances Are… You’re a Side Chick

Urban Dictionary.com defines a “Side Chick” as

the other woman; also known as the mistress; a female that is neither a male’s wifeor girlfriend who has relations with the male while he is in another relationship
Kimmy: Look at Tina and Josh…are they going out?
Sally: No Kimmy! Josh is datingLaura. Tina is just his sidechick.
From reading the above, TWO words stood out to me in two mini sentences. ( if that makes sense)
“neither wife” . “neither girlfriend”
The main idea behind being a side chick baffles me. I guess I just can’t, or should I say couldn’t fathom how any girl could willingly entertain a man SHE knows is taken.
I told myself for years I would never allow any man to play me for a fool, never take second place because I knew my worth and knew I was a main chick or nothing.
I never had issues getting guys so I thought I would never had to be put in a situation where I am a “side chick”.
I’m a selfish person when it comes to what’s “mine” or who I want. I don’t like to share my significant other with anyone at any time unless it’s me sharing their time and energy with the kids we would make together.
Other than the above I never considered myself “side chick” material bad talked girls I knew who proudly played their side chick position to a T.
Like I have referenced in many posts, I am always so quick to judge someone before I myself end up in that same predicament.
A little while ago, ( date, year and time will remain undisclosed) I found myself a predicament that I had no business in.
*Slowly Airs Out My Dirty Laundry*
It’s always the person, thing or places we say we never want to go too or be around that we always end up mixed up in and with.
At one point in my life I was a PROUD side-chick. <- may  be over-exaggerating just a bit.
Imagine that eh! ( typical Canadian Slang) I Alicia Sarah Harper, who grew up in a good Christian home was a side chick.
So here’s the 4-1-1  with LIMITED details.
” So there was this guy, who I liked, had feelings for him and all that Jazz. Only issue was… he had a Girlfriend.. and I knew about her too. I don’t remember how long they were dating but I can assure you she was all over his IG and visa versa. Being the persistent female I am I refused to accept that chance that he had found someone else, when I had liked him for a HOT minute. In my mind she wasn’t prettier than me and I knew him longer So my inner savage didn’t care If I was potentially breaking up a “happy” home. I swear he was like a drug, a needle I was sharing with another junkie passing him back and forth too high, unaware that he was being shared. I played my part, to the outside world we had no communication, but our conversations said otherwise. There were days that I would want to see him and I couldn’t because he was with her. Times when I wanted to pop by his house but she was there, and I was far from messy and did not want any drama so I would stay home. I allowed him to play me, shoot I allowed him to play her too.
DUMB.
I wanted to tell my friends about him, but I knew how dumb I would look If they knew I was messing around with a fully relational man. “
I was once that girl that thought It would be “cool” to take a man from a girl. I was that girl who cared only about her own feelings and could care less if someone else got hurt, as long as I was happy.
I believe in Karma and I believe that whatever you reap is what you’re going to sew. The emotional distress I sewed I reaped In the end. The promises of ” Im going to leave her for you, just give me time, I don’t want to hurt her” Plagued my mind and gave me hope for then EMPTY promises.
Promises I didn’t deserve because I was becoming a woman scorned. A person I told myself was unlike my character and against my beliefs.
It so sad to see the measures that we as women are willing to take to hold on to a man. I guess because there are like 10 women per man we feel like we have to do the MOST just to sustain our position in his life.
A wise wise woman once told me that whats meant for ME would always be for ME and that I wouldn’t have to fight, cuss, “skin out” or go against what I believe and feel just to keep what God destined for my life. Sometimes I find we overcompensate in hopes that in the end we come out on top, HBIC.. or whatever that Abbreviation is.

 

It’s sickening that we live In a world that praises side-chicks and has walks, Social Media pages and appreciation for woman who NEVER get the main title. I mean getting his love and affection is good and dandy and all that until he has to go back home to the woman who claims him as her own.

“Why be the yellow starburst when you can be the pink one”

It makes no sense settling for 2nd best if you know for yourself you deserve nothing but the best. The realization of who I was and what I was worth and helped me to remove myself from a situation that was bound to end up with me being emotionally destroyed and hurt. I am not knocking Side Chicks If there’s an agreement that’s set up and it works for both parties then do you boo boo.

I just know from personal experience that it NEVER ends well.

If you know you’re a Filet Mignon why accept Ground Beef Treatment?

Temporarily it may feel good, there may be “perks” and you may even think in the end you will win but why take the chance of a “What If” or a “Maybe”.

Disclaimer/SideNote/Moment Of Truth: Its situations like these that have motivated me to write a book, I guess I’ve felt led to share my life lessons and experiences with everyone, If my mistakes can help others not make the same then that would mean the most. <- Stay Tuned Coming 2018.

Why be the girl that only gets
  • Dates after 8
  • No Public Affection
  • Label-less relationships
  • “No Pictures Please” responses
  •  Never get to meet the Family

 

If any of the above Happen to be your current situation..

Chances Are, You’re a Side Chick.

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I HATE Social Media

Yes.

I will be the First to Admit It

I HATE SOCIAL MEDIA.

I hate Facebook, I hate Twitter, Turned off By SnapChat and Loathe Instagram.

I hate how consumed and dependant we are on social media.

I hate that I wake up in the morning, and before I thank my creator for life I click to check my Instagram newsfeed to see how many likes my recent picture got.

I hate that I care about peoples opinions of me on Social Media, and that If my followers list doesn’t exceed a certain amount I feel like people don’t like me and thats probably why thy refuse to follow me.

I hate that I want the world to think Im perfect, not perfect perfect but flawless almost.

I hate that I only want people to see me at my best, when my outfits look a certain way, or my hair is laid.

I hate that I feel that If my pictures lack a certain amount of sex appeal people will think I am boring , dull or basic.

I hate that I see people living a certain lifestyle and it makes me feel like I’m not good enough or even that I am not working as hard as I should be.

I see people living what seems to be these perfect lives filled with designer clothes, shoes and luxury cars and often question how far am I willing to go to get the life I see others live.

I hate that I cut my hair, and even though it was my own decision and is something I try to deal with everyday, I hate that seeing woman around me with longer hair makes me feel unsure and insecure about what I don’t have.

I hate when people draw attention to my relationship status or try to make me feel as if I am incomplete or “diseased” because I don’t have a significant other.

I hate Instagram Filters, and how they can make or break my pictures drawing attention to some flaws and highlighting some problem areas.

I hate the pressure I feel to make it.

I hate that some days im proud of my complexion and other days Im not

I hate that social media makes me feel that I’m too dark too be “light skinned” but not dark enough to be dark skinned.

I hate that some days I am made to feel that having natural hair is a blessing, but then other days it’s a curse

I hate the pressures social media puts on me to “filter” my face with apps that hide my scars and blemishes, because if people see the real me… they may not “LIKE” me.

 

Hate that more people believe in me than I do myself.

I hate that my desire to make it is so strong that It makes me cry when life doesn’t go my way.

I hate the memories that linger on Facebook, The pictures of ex lovers and Long long friends.

I hate being reminded of my past by posts from 2,3,4 or 5 years ago .

 

I hate that I can’t be where I want to be because of financial obligations and travel restraints.

I hate that fact that in the midst of it all , between hating and juggling 4 Instagram pages , a YouTube channel and Facebook account that I still let social media “run” my life .

I hate that we have become so brainwashed as a society by social media that woman and men are looking up to ” Instagram “celebrities who elude a certain lifestyle that is 100% fake and all done for the “Gram”.

I hate that we’re out here spending our hard earned money on clothes and shoes to impress people we never met and don’t know .

“DO IT FOR THE GRAM”

 

I miss the days when life was simple .

The days when it didn’t matter if you had 1000 followers or 0.

I miss the days when I didn’t care about what other people thought or didn’t think about who I was .

I miss the days when my taste of luxury came from reading Gossip Girl books, but still I remained humble and appreciative of what I had .

I miss my childhood , days when I had imagination and creativity shooting through me.

This isn’t a post to ask for attention ,

give off a bitter impression

Or show signs of regression.

I guess you could call this a transparent moment . A rant even.

So forgive me if I come across abrasive , condemnatory, despondent or annoying…

 

I can’t help it .

I hate social media .

But I need It.

I need my Snapchat to vent, my Instagram to advertise and my Facebook to talk to my family across the world.

Ugh, I hate social media.

But I love it .