You Know Better

CHAPTER 1

I was fresh out of a breakup, still dusting myself off, when I headed to the States for a trip I’d already planned.  While scrolling through Facebook, a friend request popped up from a girl I didn’t recognize. Her profile picture stopped me cold—bright eyes, a figure that demanded attention, a smile wrapped like a gift in soft curls. Intrigued, I accepted. We texted for three or four days, our banter sharp and easy, and decided to meet.

The crazy part? She lived just ten minutes away by car. She drove to my place, and we clicked instantly, talking for hours in her parked car. The conversation flowed—movies, family drama, local gossip—like we’d known each other forever. Could this be something serious? Off one conversation? We both seemed to need someone to listen.

She mentioned we’d attended the same university. I froze. “What?” I’d never seen her before. Stranger still, she knew my close friends—my boys—and none of them had ever mentioned her. I made a mental note to text them back in Ghana. We kept talking about everything, from past relationships to who was who in the area, losing track of time until it got late. We said goodbye, but later that night, we were back on the phone.

The next day, she returned. The air between us crackled with tension. We talked for hours, then kissed. One thing led to another, and we ended up in bed. She left, and I lay there, reeling.

That’s when I remembered to text my boys. I messaged two of them, asking if they knew her. The first confirmed she was familiar. Then he dropped a bomb: my other friend had been intimate with her. I stared at my phone. “Ain’t no way.” He asked why I cared, and I admitted we’d hooked up. It was too late.

I called the second friend. Dating your boy’s fling—even an old one—was a line I didn’t cross. I explained everything, and he appreciated the honesty. “It’s cool,” he said. Their thing had been low-key, and he knew I had no clue. Relief washed over me. I hadn’t meant to step on toes.

I should’ve walked away from her then. But we were close now. Tumblr was new, so we made blogs together, posted poetry, and took walks in the park, admiring bold paintings in art galleries and artifacts in museums, hands intertwined. We’d hook up, feel guilty, go to church, then fall back into bed. I was falling for her—harder than I expected. or so I thought.

Then the arguments started. She was moving to another state for school, threatening our routine. Insecurities crept in. Was another guy waiting to take my place?

She left. The hugs were tight, but she had to go.

Six weeks later, she visited. A petty argument flared up, and we got on the phone to resolve things. As the call wound down, she hit me with the truth: she was going on a date with a guy I knew.

Worse, she’d warned me about him early on. He was a major drug dealer, low-key but powerful. You’d never guess from his quiet demeanor—just two sentences when we met, but his presence lingered, sharp and commanding. At 6’3”, an athletic fit body, with money to burn, he was everything I wasn’t. I had $300 to my name, a chubby frame, and no job.

Insecurities I didn’t know I had roared to life. She’d told me to avoid him, yet here she was, dating him. We weren’t official, so I had no right to complain, but the betrayal cut deep. I could only muster, “Okay.” My head spun.

I took it like a man—no calls, no texts, no Twitter rants. It hurt, but part of me laughed. Kasen, you should’ve known better.

CHAPTER 2

Her choice lingered in my mind as I prepared to return to Ghana. Her semester wrapped up too, and she was back in town, wanting to catch up. I was hurt but missed her, so I agreed to meet at my place. We sat on the couch, watching a TV show, chatting through it, sidestepping her date like it never happened.

It was getting late, I had to get some groceries before the store closed so I said I’d be back and dashed out

When I returned, her face was twisted, mean mugging. She’d gone through my laptop, left open by mistake.

She launched into me. “You’re talking to other girls?” she started, voice rising. “Who’s Salma? Akua? I told you Akua liked you. Who’s Colly? Why’s she sending half-naked photos? Why’s she offering to buy you a laptop? And you spent the night in Jersey with Mimi? I saw your Twitter DMs.”

Some were just friends. Two girls liked me, but it wasn’t serious. Weeks ago, I’d have cut them off for her. But her audacity—after her date—lit a fire in me. I wasn’t even mad about her snooping. It was the entitlement.

I had the urge to explain, but the more I considered what she had done, the angrier I became. I wasn't even mad that she'd gone through my personal messages. It was the audacity. The entitlement. I thought: how dare you? After what you did?

"Yo. I want you to leave. We'll talk about this later," I told her.

Fortunately, my brother and cousin, whom I was staying with, came home and felt the tension immediately. She greeted them, and I walked her to her car—no hug, no eye contact, no words. In that moment, something shifted. The feelings I had for her simply evaporated.

I avoided her until I left for Ghana.

Back home, gossip circulated through her friend group that I was seeing other people. I had gone to the States chubby and returned transformed. I was looking good and proud of myself—flat belly, well-fitting clothes, fresh haircut, smelling great. I was glowing, radiant, fresh in a way I hadn't been before.

I'd always received attention, but now it felt like everyone was looking, wondering, "Who is this guy?" I had that mysterious, confident aura and was having the time of my life.

Then photos of Akua and me appeared online, showing us hugged up like a couple.

Guess who called me with an attitude?

Before she could get another word in, I told her: "You're not my girlfriend. You know better."

Lol this was a picture I took the day before I left.