Thief of Hearts 


Dear Walter,

I am a 25-year-old lesbian who desperately needs your help. I just broke up with my girlfriend. She has been mad disrespectful lately.

I broke up with her because I got sick and tired of the way she’s been treating me. And she had the nerve to cheat on me. It was then I decided, enough was enough. 

A week later, my place was robbed. They stole my TV, phone, and clothes.

I have a feeling that my ex-girlfriend and her “friend” were involved. Did I mention her ass is crazy? And I don’t want her coming to my job fucking up what I got going on. So I’m asking, what should I do with my ex and her friend?  

—25-year-old Lesbian

Dear 25-year-old Lesbian,

Wow, I’m sorry this happened to you. It’s fucked up that a break up leads to a robbery. These are two things I have experienced firsthand. Just not back to back.

Let’s first address your break up. There are a lot of lonely hearts in my inbox lately. Winter seems to be the season for ending things. And the loneliness is palpable. It hurts when you end things with someone you care about. It’s worst when you end things because the motherfucker cheated.

When dealing with cheaters it’s important to remember that what they did had nothing to do with you. Unless you’re the catalyst for straying. Let’s not play the blame game. But if you’re not giving your partner what they need they may find someone else who does. When you’re in a sexually committed relationship, you’re obligated to satisfy that person sexually.

It’s 2018, and we have no tolerance for motherfuckers gambling with our health. If you’re in an open relationship, you’re entitled to communicate with every person you’re fucking, so each person can make healthy decisions regarding their sex lives.

An ex-boyfriend cheated on me and I was the last to know. I coped with alcohol and chaos. Ray, his best friend Sean and I planned to meet at a Brooklyn restaurant.

Sean and I waited and waited. Three martinis, two appetizers, and one entree later, I was ready for the check. He finally arrived drunk with a party of three—a band of drunks.

“I need to tell you something,” Ray said.

“What do you need to tell me? Does it has something to do with why you’re late?”

“Last night, I was with someone. But, I only gave him head.”

I blacked out like Britney with the umbrella. I went from “I’m a Slave for You” to “He About to Lose Me.”  I’m about to shut it the fuck down. 

I pushed him. “Who the fuck you cheating on me with?”

“Which one of you bitches fucking my man?”

“It was me. But I’m far from a bitch.”

I snapped. Two people held me back while I launched at him.

“It’s not worth it,” Sean said.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?” I asked. “You think you can cheat on me? And then bring this bitch here?”

I finished my drink before management put us all out. He begged and pleaded. “It was a one-time thing,” he said. “He doesn’t mean anything to me. I only did it because he was masculine.”

Fuck him. I hopped in the back of a taxi in tears. “Just drive,” I said. “Take me away from here.” In hindsight, I was quite dramatic. I went to the liquor store and purchased a bottle of Hennessy.

An hour later, I called a friend and headed to club Taj. I bounced back at the venue with a different outfit. I saw him and a coterie of his friends and ignored them. I just wanted a moment with some music to dance the stress away like Rihanna. He followed me everywhere.  

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“Really? Because you cheated. You don’t get to put this on me. What you did says everything about you and nothing about me. You can go suck another dick!”

“I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I should have never done this to you. I love you. I only want you.” He said as tears ran down his cheeks. And then he kissed me.

That night, we fucked the pain away.

It took a while to forgive him, but I never forgot. I guess part of me will always love him. We left that night changed by this experience.

This motherfucker better not break my heart again.

Infidelity runs through the gay community like a sale at Zara. Everyone seems to be doing it. Cheating isn’t an absolute dealbreaker. Stupid motherfuckers do bad things and sometimes they should be forgiven. But it seems your girlfriend potentially fucked up twice.

The first time someone broke into our home, I was a child. Some crackhead came in through the dining room window and stole our stereo. The police were called. They dusted for fingerprints. And nothing happened. 

The second time the house was robbed we were living in an apartment. He broke in, while I was sleeping on the love seat. How rude! He crept in through the side door, hiding behind the curtain like he was hiding behind the Candelabra like Liberace. 

“Hello, who’s that?”

He said nothing. Then he snatched my new Louis Vuitton duffel bag off the sofa across from me. Oh hell no! I chased him in a black tank top and a matching thong — bare foot.

“Let go of my bag bitch,” I said before leaping over the patio furniture like a gay superhero. 

I chased him two blocks until I lost him.

As a child I was powerless. But as an adult, I was precarious. But running around DC like a skimpy version of Batman wasn’t my classiest moment. I learned that these tiny beautiful things were just things and that can be replaced. I felt violated. I washed over my back, looking paranoid because someone stole my purse. My family was convinced that I knew him. They say most crimes committed upon you are done by people you know. I felt like somebody’s watching me like that song by Rockwell. 

And just like that, I shifted to Madonna, “You can’t take it. Not what’s mine. You’ll be sorry. No one ever takes what’s mine…Stop bitch, now sit your ass down.” To this day I can’t stand a thief.

If I discover that an ex was behind a home invasion. I would never talk to them again. I would cut them out of my life like Destiny’s Child. For her to allegedly send someone over to your place to steal all of your shit that you work so hard for is unforgivable. Repeal and replace her ass like Obama care. Change your locks, secure your place, and once your tax check comes — move. 

It takes time. It took me a year to get my shit together and move but I finally did. And I replaced that bag with something better — snap. And you can too.



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Love, Walter

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