Genc Jakupi always looked out for me, which made the target on my back bigger when he was away. A playboy, or a womanizer, the semantics are up to you. He’s had his fair share of staff members, models, socialites, actresses…So when he treated me special, green-eyed monsters awakened en mass. Women would flock to the restaurant to see me, the girl that suddenly gave him a heart. This was a man who was feared, admired and had a new lady on his arm every single night. Charismatic, intelligent and fun, they literally threw themselves at him. Young, rich and handsome with a full head of hair, it was a no brainer for ovaries.
Eyes locked. “Do not have sex with that hot neighbor.” I told myself, having no idea he was an owner. I found him sitting in one of the booths before open the next day, I had half a mind to tell him service didn’t start until six. For some reason I bowed as a hello, then left him to stare out the window broodingly as it was in his nature to do. Always donning that long black peacoat like Christian Slater in The Heathers.
Valentine’s Day at The Box, he asked me if I was going. I said no. A rule of thumb, don’t eat where you shit, is one I take to heart. Roommates, coworkers, bosses and clients are a big hell no. It gets too convoluted. I try to avoid drama as much as possible, even though my life is a soap opera continuum, says Melinda. The irony. For some reason I trusted him, which was unnerving. How could you trust someone you just met? Everything about him freaked me out, my physical reaction to his physical presence roamed untamed. Butterflies flew from unknown fields in my stomach, as though frightened to flight. My heart bashed my ribcage trying to abandon my chest. Somewhere along the way I believed him to be my twin flame, I sought out the equal and opposite piece of my soul desperately.
Everyone else had, let’s say a different view of him. When he entered a room terror permeated. No one wanted to get on his bad side, a side I’d never seen. He was revered and feared. Apparently the leader of the you’re fired squad. People who would be complete assholes to me would do a 180. Treating me like the queen of fucking everything. I felt safe when he was around.
His parents were my first friends at a hostile work environment (I didn’t know they were his parents then). Agron humored me when I talked to him about karmic cycles, planetary alignment and retrogrades. Turns out he didn’t know a lick of english beyond the basics. We developed our own understanding, able to communicate our way. Those are the most beautiful types of languages. Returning from trips I would hug him, he was missed. Feride his gorgeous, over protective mother was my favorite. She was out for a good time. When I appeared topless in a red sheath on New Year’s Eve, she gasped “You look beautiful.” I was so relieved, my own mother would admonish me for this dress even when wearing a bra. That night I stopped working and danced the night away with her. I should have been fired when I went to sleep in the front booth, but I wasn’t because of Genc.
Jordan Barrett made me feel so disloyal. I wanted to be around him all the time, usually guys try to tame me, but Jordan would let me run wild. I dreamed of him, craved him, he was infectious. How could I turn my back on someone who defended me on numerous occasions? Who took care of me in their own way? I was the only employee to receive paid vacation. But at this point Genc moved to Europe, he wasn’t there, what was I waiting for? We never had a conversation, I never knew what he was up to. Still I waited, hoping not in vain.
There was only one member of his family that irked my soul. No matter how many olive branches I extended, attending his birthdays, trying to be nice to him, he snapped the twigs. Despite popular belief Taurus and Pisces in my experience (from my sister on) have a horrible dynamic. We just don’t mesh. Making it messier was when I blacked out and led him on. Genc was dating Romanian actress Madalina Ghenea, one of the women who came to see me. His brother was wearing his shirt, a long sleeved blue with white polka dots thermal type top. One I always affiliate with Genc from photos. In a drunken stupor Lupe the busser told me I was with his brother and tried to make out with the blonde lady, who turned out to be Dua Lipa’s mother. Ashamed I swore off the bottle for thirty days.
It all ended in a cataclysmic, inevitable shit show. After I left with my karmic justice. He started to keep an eye on me in ways that were invasive. At first I excused his behavior, this was a man who walked over dead bodies in a war torn country, but soon it got dark. The methods in which he kept tabs were toxic and took a toll on my mental well being. So finally after a breakdown I confronted him, calling him out, in hopes that he would realize this isn’t the old country, I am not your property. I’m also not going to throw myself at anyone, women need to remember they should be coming to you. This world has been constructed in favor of the patriarchy, putting women down as inferior, conditioning us to hate ourselves and each other. That’s not my vibe, which infuriates powerful men.
Without Genc I wouldn’t love myself, so I don’t want to paint it one way. This was one of the most crucial relationships of my life. I started taking care of myself, he made life worth living. Still when the milk spoils you have to throw it out (https://sainttwenty.com/2019/08/15/learn-to-let-go/). Via: Guns X Bibles Mag