Sanity Addiction Part 1:

I grabbed my keycard off the dresser and proceeded to the Standard Hotel’s elevator in my favorite Michael Kors black patent leather biker boots and T by Alexander Wang classic jersey mini dress. I was in Manhattan for a week and experienced the whole weather wheel. First it was raining, then it was sunny and warm and then gloomy again. Tonight, it was abnormally mild, so I decided to walk across 14th street to catch the C train on Eighth Avenue downtown to Soho. I was going to meet Rachel, my best friend from the fashion industry, for a drink at the Mondrian Hotel’s bar. As soon as I got to the subway platform and peered down the tunnel, I saw the train less than a stop away.

“Yasssss” I said audibly. Right on time. I didn’t want to be super-late, but fashionably late was acceptable. Besides, I was in NYC with Jacob, my rapper boyfriend and PR client. We had a huge meeting at the label he’s signed to and I was planning on using the extra time to meet business associates over dinner at my favorite restaurants and bars. In general, I knew not to mix business with pleasure but Jacob’s my sweetie and getting money together is the ultimate relationship goals in this day of the social media celebrity.

However, this sporadic girl’s night out was well needed with Rachel. Jacob and I were having major problems and I needed a night off. We got into a major fight that almost drove me to hurt myself. Jacob was supposed to be at the studio with a Grammy - winning producer all night, so it was the perfect night to hang out with friends to take my mind off my life. I hadn’t been to New York in a while and the fact that it was such a beautiful night, I knew that we would get into some honest trouble.

When I arrived to the Mondrian, Rachel was already at the bar sipping her first vodka martini.

“Sorry, girl! I needed this drink” she says taking a sip of her martini as she proceeds to explain. “Work has been crazy! We go to print on our music issue in two days and I still don’t have anything about Sapphire- she’s like this new hit singer who has over three million plays on Soundcloud.” Rachel says all in one breath. Rachel just got promoted to a director position at a high fashion magazine. It was a good time for both of us in our careers. We met when we were both interning at Teen Vogue around ten years ago. Now, as career-driven women in our late twenties, we knew that people were finally starting to see the fruits and benefits of our domination.

“No worries.” I said as I signaled the bartender over to our side of the bar to order a drink.

Two martinis in and we were going on and on about work-related drama that centered on the fact that a lot of people in our industry have shitty business ethics.

“….Plus, I had to get out of there. You know Jessica and Sam are dating now.” Rachel says casually.

“You’re kidding! She couldn’t find a man on Tinder? “ I said.

“I wish I was. The fur closet hasn’t been the same since! And everyone in the office knows, you know!”

Rachel spills this tea like it’s 2 day old news in a Gossip Magazine. I mean I guess we were in our own exclusive gossip vortex.

“So you mean to tell me she’s fucking a gay man?” I needed confirmation.

“Listen...It may be the best relationship to have in this fucking city and that’s what toys are for! So whatever! Don’t be jealous.”

“Wow. Has everyone at that glossy lost their damn mind? A lot has changed since I stopped swiping my key card at 16 Times Sq.” I said as I took the last sip of my vodka.

The scandalous conversations continued. Rachel wasn’t dating anyone serious and didn’t have her own relationship drama to spill so I had to tell Rachel about how dishonest Jacob had been on tour with groupies, the text messages, the DMs on Instagram (since I had access to his social media channels), and the late night phone calls that he didn’t want to pick up. I hated that I was feeling this way, but Rachel was semi non-judgmental. She knew how much time I devoted to the relationship and career and why it was so hard for me to leave. Of course, I held back from telling her the full story. It was embarrassing but not as embarrassing as dating a gay man when you’re supposed to be all about getting dicked down.

I had to save face. I couldn’t be truly open to a friend; she would chew me to pieces while casually swiping left on an online dating app. I told her what was on the surface and let her know that I wasn’t abusing alcohol that night, that we were each other’s saviors, that we were looking to only dance with straight tall light -skinned guys with good hair tonight. Rachel nodded in agreement.

We grabbed our cheap clutches, we headed to our favorite spot in Chinatown, for more cocktails and dirty dancing. I greeted the doorman with a big hug and headed straight to the bathroom to do a line off my keys. My wounds were still open that night and I knew that through time and dancing with strangers, that they would heal.

It was well past 3am when I made my way back to The Standard. But when I arrived, Jacob was standing outside of my door.

“What are you doing here?!” I shouted. “Why can’t you understand I can’t deal with this shit anymore?”

In that moment, drunk and enraged, I grabbed some of my things from the hotel room’s bathroom (my La Prairie Dry Oil, sweaty silk pajamas and toothbrush) and ran towards the elevator, pushing the button frantically, hoping the doors would open sooner before Jacob would appear behind me. I wanted out. I knew we were both faded, and flashbacks of the comments made by the internet bullies swept through my mind.

“I’m just trying to make things right.” He responded with glassy eyes. I knew he was trying to lure me into bed to possibly mend what he had broken. But I was done. He was on one.

“Don’t touch me.” I said as I smacked his hand out of my space at the same time the elevator doors finally opened. I scurried onto the elevator barefoot with my biker boots in my hand, my black purse and tote bag of things swinging off my left arm, trying to swat loose hair from my face behind my ears with my right. Mascara started to sting the corners of my eyes. I knew I looked good even in my consistent state of dispair. Jacob watched me disappear as the elevator doors closed in his face.

At that moment, the tears that were gathering in my eyes, ran down my cheeks. They didn’t stop and the more I thought about what I’ve had to deal with during the past few years, the revenge porn, the rape shit, the cheating and the lies, they came down like cold New York rain in the dead of winter. I knew it had to be over. I had to end the relationship, but I was scared for my career deep down in my heart. Who was I really without my Jacob?

******** Let me take a few steps back. Our relationship wasn’t always this chaotic. A few years ago, when we first got together during Summer 2013, we were inseparable.

I was on high vibes. Jacob and I first met at his (now) label’s release party at some gallery on the Lower East Side of New York for another musician Jacob was ghostwriting song lyrics for while struggling to pay his rent and jumpstart his music career. A career in music really only pays if you have a label’s budget and keep booking shows.

I was standing alone in an open corner of a crowded gallery. I was wearing a tight little blue dress that I purchased on sale at Barney’s that I paired with a pair of black heels from ShopChicGirls.com. It was the beginning of the summer and my hair was falling to the side, the reddish color had turned it to blond streaks by July. I was meeting Rachel who was actually writing about the album release party. I was just there. There to possibly find another story to write about, there to meet a guy because when we took shots at the bar beforehand I was anxious because I knew I was going to meet the love of my life.

As always, the night I met Jacob I was faded. My other colleague slash friend, Alexis, left me early (as per usual) because she was tired and had a deadline the next morning. So I stayed because I knew Rachel was pulling up with some of her editor friends, and I didn’t feel like going back home. And well, I needed to make connections to keep my career in constant rotation. So when Alexis left me to go tend to her deadline, I casually posted up in a spot next to a blue painting to wait for Rachel and her mean fashion girl squad. Little did I know that this would be the start of my year-long blue period.

That night, it was open bar and a Sachi* had just walked past me with a smile and I wanted so badly to touch her big red hair. This was before she got together with other pop stars and was serving as big sister to a *Lee Smith on a track recently posted on SoundCloud. I was super excited for Sachi, even though we never really met. I secretly wanted to be her publicist, but I knew one of those other fashion publicists who didn’t know shit about R&B would represent her because of their fashion magazine connections. However, we knew each other’s faces because black women in this industry always peep other black women. For that reason of becoming a familiar face, I stayed for the album release party. And that’s when I first caught a glimpse of Jacob. He was leaning seductively against the wall with a cocktail straw in his mouth. His hair was pulled into a sloppy dreaded man bun, he was rocking the most casually rich hipster outfit ever: distressed Saint Laurent jeans with a wrinkled tee shirt and white vans. I stared in awe, and kept staring until Rachel had to wave her henna painted hand in my face. “Hello!” She said with a drink already in her hand from the open vodka bar. But I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Finally, Jacob came up to me and introduced himself as Jacob Vargas.

*Name has been changes for legal reasons.

I don’t remember what I said to Jacob, but we exchanged numbers within minutes. He told me he was going to the bathroom and to stay close, but I disappeared. I left the party with a photographer because I was too drunk and broke to go home alone.

That night, I texted Jacob. “Nice to meet you.” I couldn’t get him out of my head.

He texted me back right away. I smiled because that was a good sign to me. Days later, the texting never seized to come through my phone like running water.

“Good Morning Sexy” he’d text me every morning.“Good Morning Sunshine,” I’d respond.

By the end of August 2013, we were officially a couple. But at the time we started dating my life was in shambles even though I was trying so hard to keep it together, I couldn’t find a steady job to save my life and was surviving off of freelance PR gigs I was getting from a lifestyle agency in Tempe, Arizona. I was barely making my rent with my writing money, so I had to play devil’s advocate. I hated being on unemployment while trying to live this fancy, alluring lifestyle, but I had to do what I had to do. Working as a part-time publicist was the right move because it didn’t make me feel so guilty about chasing a superficial dream. Going back home, back to Philly, wasn’t an option and I knew my worth. Asking people for money was out of the question. When I decided to move from writing editorials to accepting more Public Relations projects, I knew it would bring me more cash because all my friends were writers who were loyal to my word and my pitches. They were basically writing stuff for me because they knew I needed the money. And when I started dating Jacob, I started to feel better about myself and that’s when strange things started to happen to me. One afternoon, I decided to go running in Central Park before finally going on my first date with Jacob. On my way back to my apartment, I decided to check my mailbox as a weekly routine. It was full of letters, small parcels and postcards from my friends who were wanderlusting, like dating kiwis and surfing in New Zealand.

“Bill, Bill, Promotion, Art Intuition promo…A gift - wait a minute,” I said audibly in my apartment building’s hallway. Was I reading this correctly?

“A special gift just for Melissa.” I read aloud in my apartment hallway.

The envelope was this creamy black matte with a little weight. My name and address was printed in gold foil. I could tell there was definitely some good things waiting to be read. So I sat down on the stairs leading to my apartment and ripped open the letter to reveal something that only happens once in a fashion girl’s lifetime.

Dear Melissa Henderson,

You have been selected for a once in a violet moon opportunity.

We can’t express how much we are honored to have you as our number one supporter of Shop Chic Girls Online dot com. We’d love to gift you with a credit for $14, 250.00 to shop all the new collections in our online store. We now carry the world’s most beloved designers, including GUCCI, PRADA, YSL and Hermes.

We’re delighted to have you as one of our most-valued and fashionable customers since 2002. The brand has transformed over the years to reflect its customers, and your style has always been on our mood board. You are devastatingly chic as fuck, as proof from your amazing Instagram feed and style shots in the New York Society Columns!

We invite you to use promo code: devastatingly chic to access the funds.

Another invitation to our first store opening in China to follow in a few weeks. We hope you can join us for the influencer trip of a lifetime.

Fashionably Yours,The tribe at www.ShopChicGirls.com

The most amazing dream in online shopping history had finally come true and it wasn’t a prank. I mean, I’ve heard of people getting an item for free or reduced priced, but credit in the mail? The universe was definitely in my favor for real!

I immediately logged onto the Shop Chic Girls app, navigated to the payment settings, then typed in the promo code devastatingly chic, and like a drawer full of quality silk scarves fourteen thousand dollars appeared in my ShopChicGirls account! I don’t remember what I was planning to do after my run, but that was the best night of my life. To say the least, I was in online shopping heaven, with free shipping at that! I requested drone shipping so that everything got here somewhere between binge watching ten episodes of Real Housewives of Atlanta and when it was time to meet Jacob for our first date. Never mind, if my rent wasn’t paid in full yet, my whole apartment was dancing the designer tune. At parties that season, I was light years away in the fashion game. Fast forward two years later, my clothes were still shitting on the fashion crowd at networking events.

Anyway back to me and Jacob, after weeks of texting, we were finally going to meet each other and I was still high as fuck off of my online shopping spree. I wanted him even though I only saw him one time for a few minutes at the album release party. Of course we exchanged pictures and a few offers to dates ensued over three weeks, but they were missed connections. We were both busy.

For our first day, Jacob casually invited me to some 2Chains event at a secret Warehouse space in Brooklyn. I set myself up to believe I wasn’t going because I was in a money making mindset, but winning designer clothes in the mail put me in a good mood. I was officially in high vibes. So, I hailed an Uber to meet him.

Thirty minutes later, my Uber driver pulled up to a dark street somewhere in the throes of Brooklyn.

“You sure this is the place?” I asked.“Yes. 2345 Willoughby Avenue.” He responded.

I got out and walked up to a steel door. I thought it would be a list and a doorman but it was none of what I was expecting. It was Brooklyn; everything’s sketchy. I texted Jacob to let him know that I arrived.

“Is this the 2Chains event?” I asked some hipster kid smoking outside the entrance.

“Yea, but you’re late, shorty. Scrappy is about to go on next.” He said to me between drags of his cigarette.

“Thanks,” I said walking through the door of the sketchy warehouse. I should have asked a friend to go, I thought. But it was too late. I had to commit.

By the way, I took a few shots of whiskey in the Uber to get me through all my nervous excitement. I was going to meet my prince charming finally!! I was wearing black strappy heels, light washed cut-off jeans, and cropped ruffled cotton-satin top from a designer I couldn’t pronounce.

I opened another door in the dark short hallway that guided me to the music and people. All I could see in front of me was red lights. The room reeked of cigarette smoke and weed. I instantly sensed Jacob and his shadow coming closer towards me. I could barely see him, but I could feel his energy. We embraced, timidly. After all, it was only our second physical meeting. Technically, this was a date in my eyes. A very non-traditional date, but a date nonetheless. He handed me a drink, and whispered “you smell good” in my ear. There in a dirty warehouse I melted and started to cream in my silk panties. Then he kissed me on the cheek and my body language instantly shifted. My chest fell slightly into his, my nose grazed his cheek, our breaths intertwined, and he smelled pretty good himself, as his head shifted, planting another gentle kiss on my lips. I caught it, breathing everything in. I perched my lips for more, but it was over as soon as I blinked open my eyes.

“That’s just a taste” he appeared to be saying as the music glared in the red-lighted warehouse. My heart beat faster, I started to sweat as I took his hand to follow him back into the only lighted area.

That night, we couldn’t wait. I wanted him and he knew it. On the way home in an Uber, we made out. I invited him in for one more drink, even though we didn’t need another. It was my ploy to get his body weight right where I could feel it the most. I opened the door, grabbed him by his belt loops and led him to my bed.

A few weeks later, on a Tuesday afternoon, he ask me to come to the Hamptons for a weekend on Shelter Island. I happily said yes.

********* Before I knew it, the summer that I met Jacob in was over, and winter was settling into its dark cold mood. It seemed like I’d been with Jacob for a lifetime. However, it was only a few months. Yet, I realized I was chasing Jacob too much at that point. He was gaining so much success for his beats and verses for upcoming trap artists in Atlanta and with a credit on some of Atlanta’s hottest trap rapper albums. He was buzzing as an up-and-coming producer in blogs and magazines like XXL Magazine and Rap Radar. We’d talk about our dreams and goals late at night as I fell asleep on his chest. I helped him form a group of managers and producers and other important

people in the industry that I happened to know from my days in college, when I was hanging out with my Morehouse babes who I knew from my hometown in Philly. I helped him with his marketing material since I knew writers at huge music publications that were always looking for content they didn’t have to get off their ass to find. He would write songs about me and then invite me to the studio to listen.

“Babe, come to the studio.” Jacob would text me. I’d come within the hour and the turnup would begin. I’d roll up a blunt or load up some dab oil in my favorite vape, and smoke until my vision became too hazy. Then Jacob would just serenade me. One song note at a time. In a moment I probably will never forget, he took my hands and led me into the recording booth.

“Do you trust, me?” Jacob asked me.“With all my heart.” I responded.He pulled me closer.“Do you trust me,” he repeated as he held me with aggressive passion.“Yes.” I said holding my breath.“Would you love me to the moon?”“I’d love you to Pluto” I responded.

He grabbed me closer and kissed me, squeezing my ass, lifting me up by my hips as I wrapped my legs around him. I lifted my dress to reveal my bare ass. I felt his manhood throbbing on my thighs as I unzipped his jeans and released it. Still holding me, I felt his hot skin touch mine as he penetrated me, leaning over to the studio wall to reach deeper inside me. I grinded closer even though there was no more room left. The booth became steamy, as the sound of our breaths was in sync. We ended up on the floor, as he licked my wet sex clean.

“Your little cunt is so beautiful” he said, looking up to me as he patted my sex like a baby’s butt. I stared seductively into his eyes, rubbing my hard nipples, feeling the softness, appreciating the moment, as my stomach got tighter, I flexed my toes, until I finally found my release.

We fell asleep on the studio floor that night, awakening to the sound producer’s loud fart. The sound was on record the whole time.

*********

Winters in New York are brutal. Jacob knew how depressed I always became in these months, so studio visits were the only thing that could make me truly happy. We loved spending time with each other when we weren’t always traveling to music events like SXSW for exposure. It was through this process that we became deep lovers. It took two years for the both of us to get our shit together. Quitting writing to work in public relations was painful but it was crucial to our plan as a couple wanting to move to Los Angeles full time. When we finally did move a year after dating, it was Jacob’s record deal with Atlantic Records that was the driving force. Up until I left the airport, I had been struggling so much, but I didn’t show it to any of my associates. My pride was too strong. On the plane ride to Los Angeles, I cried when the plane landed. I knew my life was going to be better. No more killing roaches in the kitchen, listening to dogs bark endlessly in the alleyway, no more walking home at night because I couldn’t afford a cab. I would finally be able to buy the Yves Saint Laurent logo bag I had always dreamt about since I was in high school.

We first set up our house in Echo Park, a developing area in Los Angeles. We didn’t have to ball to know that we finally made it. But then again. Life’s never that easy. When Jacob and I moved to Los Angeles, that was the downfall of our relationship. The palm tree lifestyle and sunny weather made room for lots of shady dealings. I tried to keep my sanity by eating healthy and embracing going on hikes with a friend from college, and by going to the beach more, but that didn’t stop me from indulging in the LA club life. 1Oak was my gateway drug.

Jacob and I were both guilty of partying with other people and stopped communicating about each other’s daily whereabouts because we lived together. I would host meetings at the Label and treat him like a regular on staff employee on nights he wouldn’t come home because he was “at the studio.” We shared some great times at the studio, but that was also becoming a place for his slopping ass friends to trip up on groupie ordeals.

We tried to follow date night every Saturday but there was always something else going on. We were struggling with that work-life balance even though we were essentially in charge of each other’s daily schedules. My responsibilities with the label as Director of Public Relations for the hip hop division had increased tremendously. I was finally making a six figure salary. It was all a dream. It happened all so fast. At one point we were living in Echo Park, then we got a place in the Marina Del Rey, and I just remember waking up every morning to the sight of boats and the sound of seals.

Meanwhile, Jacob was traveling to Atlanta a lot to record with some of the best producers in preparation for his upcoming EP. This is when I began to feel the distance brewing by the week. I rarely met the people he was working with; he always had to schedule me in to facetime.

“Hey baby!” as a took a drag of my vape.“Hey sexy. You look tasty.” Jacob would say.“Screenshot this.” I adjusted my pose and exhaled from my vape.

That was on a good facetime call. More than often, I’d called his phone, he wouldn’t answer. This is where separation happened and I didn’t like it one bit! After all, we started out as stargazed lovers but Jacob quickly transformed into a savage.

Being on tour with an artist is thrilling. I was in charge of scheduling interviews at every local radio station in the city we played. I remember that we were touring in Europe. It was Jacob’s first tour abroad with the intention of building a fanbase. We stopped in O Porto, Portugal to play a gig at Plano B, one the best clubs in Portugal and in the world for that matter. The club was so full that night. People were waiting outside to get in. “Plano B, I’m coming for you tonight.Pull Up.” Jacob’s tweet read. By the next hour, that tweet had garnered over 3,000 retweets and hundreds of comments from excited portuguese fans. His social media fame was building up and the engagement was a key indicator.. At that point, Jacob had more than a 200,000 followers on Instagram and his Twitter was always the center of conversation for his fans, so it was amazing to see people show up for his gigs.

After that show, we danced all night. I put my hands on a wall. “Take me” I whispered to Jacob as he grinded slowly up against my ass to some reggae song, slipping his hand under my skirt, caressing my inner thighs, as he moved my panties over to touch my bare skin. We got closer. I lifted my leg a little, and my head dropped to his chest, as two fingers slipped right into my wet sex, it didn’t take 2 minutes before I climaxed right on the dance floor. My sex dripped down my legs to my ankles as I turned around to devour him with a thousand little kisses and lick his finger clean. We went there. It didn’t matter where or who was watching.

Before shows, we needed it. After shows, I wanted him even more, as he always glanced to the side of the stage to look me in the eyes as he sang lyrics he wrote for me in bed or in the studio. My pussy throbbed when I knew he was going to pull up to our house in Los Angeles after days of not seeing him.

***********

The first strike was on Instagram. I threatened to break up with him. Actually, I did break up with him over email because he went off on his ex.

From: Melissa Gmail To: Jacob Vargas Gmail Subject: Moving Forward Body: I can’t with this anymore. I’ll make arrangements to get your shit out of my space. I haven’t met any of your producers in Atlanta, we rarely go out, and you’ve been savagely drinking and doing you lately. Those things combined don’t look good for our future. So I’m removing myself from this story. Effective immediately. Love you but I need to love myself.

xxMEnd of email.

Our relationship was getting weirder by the day. Email served as our main source of communicating when we were in a fight. We thought about it as serious business because our relationship was business. But when Jacob went crazy on his ex, who was super basic compared to me, things weren’t the same since. Actually, correction: he went slightly insane. Apparently, the his ex was slandering his name to all his colleagues at the Label even though I never heard anything suspicious. This bitch wasn’t even industry and she managed to infiltrate and pretty much ruin any hope of us.. When he went crazy, he had like five hundred thousand followers on his social channels at the when he posted a video of her twerking in a thong in a hotel room. The video was hard to watch, because clearly it had been something private that she may have shared with him a few years of my existence in his life. After he posted the video of her seductively twerking, he tagged her work place and her organizations to get back at her. When I saw that, I was confused and called Jason as soon as I could. People were already reposting it, but it instantly put a bad taste in my mouth. At the very least it was a serious red flag and a PR crisis.

“Ughhh, why aren’t you picking up!” I screamed to myself. Of course he wasn’t going to pick up, he was in the middle of some really fuckboy behavior.

“Are you okay?” I texted Jacob when I saw a video.I didn’t want to totally freak out via text because I needed to get to the bottom of it.

“Nah, man.” Jacob texted. “I’m pissed off! That bitched slandered my name. I need some time to myself, Melissa.”

“Excuse me?!” I texted. 47

“You have some salacious video on your instagram account, broadcasting your shit to the entire world and you want me to be okay with that as your girlfriend- the woman that you love, and your publicist? I’m ordering you to TAKE THAT FUCKING VIDEO DOWN NOW!“ After that text, Jacob stopped responding to me. Then the label called and here I was in deep doo doo because my client, my boyfriend, was acting out again, on the internet.

“Is she coming for me?” I asked in a text a few hours later when I was in sitting down, at our apartment. Jacob, was nowhere to be found as per usual.

“Nah, I want to leave you out of it sexy.” He responded.

But I didn’t want to be left out of it. How could I be left out of something so crazy it baffled me? Why did Jacob think that posting a video of his ex on social media okay? Eventually, after hours of communicating to the blogs and TMZ, we managed to get the video taken offline. It wasn’t right. The poor girl was a victim. At the end of the day, it was intrusive and an invasion of privacy.

Meanwhile, Jacob took an erratic flight to Miami to file a “restraining order” on his ex (because she lived there), and I wasn’t able to reach him for hours, again. I called Rachel to bitch at her instead but she made me feel even worse with her intelligent sex talk.

“Melissa, that’s Revenge Porn and that’s illegal.” She said to me over the phone.

“What?! Revenge porn? What is that? Who’s monitoring the report button on Instagram anyways!?”

“It’s when you post sexually-oriented content on the internet about someone else to get revenge on them. I don’t really know any of the staff at Facebook.

“Um okay! So What am I going to tell the label now? This is horrible. “ I responded.“Are you going to stay with him? That’s the most important question.”

Rachel kept asking all the questions that I had no answers to at that point. Not only was my boyfriend cheating but he was also a misogynistic idiot and I’m suppose to be a feminist! I didn’t know what to think. I felt sorry for his ex in that instant. I wondered if she was dealing with this shit at her workplace as a black woman whose ex put her ass on the internet. She wasn’t necessarily a thot, so it must have been shocking and embarrassing in some way. •Read Part 2 on www.violetsummerzine.com •