Drunk Cigarette Break.

It is inbred in us that we have to do exceptional things for God: but we have not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things, to be holy in mean streets, among mean people, and this is not learned in five minutes”

-Oswald Chambers

By the end of this blog, you’ll understand why I chose to begin with this quote.

So bare with me as I write.

Five years ago, I was attacked downtown while leaving a bar.

I had ran into my ex while having a drunken cigarette break.

The ex, we all have, the one we know we’re not supposed to talk to.

The one, you should run down the street screaming from.

The one, most girls, don’t have the strength to say no to…and in the end, we’re all in the same damn place.

Feeling like a chump, rejected and pathetic.

Even, bloody and broken.

He had even gone so far to tell me, not to be around him, that the guys he was with we’re serious bad news, and if I knew what was good for me, I’d leave.

Of course, being the stubborn lil’ shit I can be, I stayed.

I’d been around hustlers and criminals a million times over, and I wasn’t just going to leave because he said so. As if I didn’t know what the scene was like. I’d known this guy since I was 15 years old, and loved him every day since we’d first kissed. I loved him for being so lost, he’d always been this way, and I wanted to be there despite it all. Like my love could change something. They say guys have this knight in shinning armour hang up, but to be honest, I think women are blinded by this even more then men.

So, I stayed.

We drank.

The whole time I had my eyes on him, watching him hit on other chicks (really Ang?) hoping that at some point we’d get away from this mess, and I’d be with the man I saw in my heart.


As usual.

Instead his friend hit on me all night, buying me roses and drinks.

I accepted ’cause I didn’t want to be rude, and who wouldn’t want free shots…

But the entire time, I had this churning feeling in my gut. I couldn’t place it, and figured because he was with me, I’d be safe. I mean, he loved me right?

My ass.


Leaving the bar, my ex pulled up his car, and yelled at me to get in.

I thought about going, but knew it would be an all night cocaine binge, so I said no.

He yelled at me again, to get in, and this time he was pissed.

Again I said no. My hands shaking.

He told me off, slammed the car door and drove away.

Leaving me there with his friend.

The one who bought me Jagger and roses.

So, buddy offered to walk me to the bus, his french accent kind of appealing.

Within a few minutes he was violently shoving me into a stair well, and pinning me up against the wall.

Tearing at my clothes, forcefully.

I tried to fight back initially, but when he gripped his hands around my throat, and slammed my head against the brick, I froze.

When I looked in his eyes, I saw it. Pure chaos and deep sickness. A predator. Calculating and wrought with oozing sexual deviance.

Details aren’t what I want here, so lets just say, at one point, I was able to push him down the stairs and run. But, it’s important to me, that girls understand, the best of predators hide it very well. Very, very well. Remember that, and if your gut says this ain’t right, like mine did, listen. I don’t care if you have six drinks covering it up. Just leave. Trust yourself.

Once I was out the door, he chased me, and just as I was hopping in a taxi, he banged on the cabby’s window, and out of breath, threw money at the driver, telling him to take me home.

Some kind of twisted apology.

The next morning my best friend told me to read the paper, a man matching his description, with a french accent, had attacked and raped a girl about an hour after I had jumped in that cab. I’ll never forgive myself for not going to the cops that night. I have personal reasons for that, which I’ll be writing about another day. But, I knew it was him. I could feel it. Swiftly running to the bathroom to vomit, the newspaper page still gripped in my hand.

So, why would I tell you all this?

This is an extreme example of why, we need to just trust God, and let go. Let go of a person, a situation, a fantasy, a dream. A conclusion. Of closure.

We are inbred to believe we must do exceptional things for God, when we need not. Holding someones hand through life, and becoming obsessed with fixing them, can lead down dark vicious roads. It can lead to places where all the control you thought you had, is ripped from you. Sometimes you think you’re doing the right thing, when really your just abusing yourself, and in your own prideful way, saying, they can’t make it without me. Maybe, they don’t even want to.

It’s not our job to cling, and love someone to death.

It’s our job to pray for them, and be an example, without becoming attached to their outcome.

Becoming attached to results, can lead us to falling into a blinded pit of pride and despair.

I’m obviously not saying it’s always going to be this bad, I’m just saying, it has been for me.

I’ve put myself in very dangerous situations at the expense of the ones I love.

In the end, it shows me, two things.

They didn’t feel the same way.


I can’t control one’s heart, or future, no matter how hard I try.

This is really hard when your the kind of person who genuinely has a heavy compassion for people.

But, we need to also have compassion for ourselves.

And, trust our Father, no matter how bent our world can be.

I still don’t know if my ex knew his friend was going to hurt me, my gut tells me, yes. He did.

I still haven’t healed from all this yet, and I’m hoping this blog will help.

I’m just glad that, at this point, I’ve learned, and am learning, what my place is. In the lives of the ones I’ve loved, love and will love.

“We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things, to be holy in mean streets, among mean people, and this is not learned in five minutes”

I forgive that man, and will be praying for him after this blog is posted, because that’s what God tells me will bring my healing. I forgive you, ex boyfriend, and despite all this, I wish you a good, whole and happy life. I forgive myself too…because it’s not my fault.

I know that now.


I love you all, and thank you for listening.


3 thoughts on “Drunk Cigarette Break.

  1. I often wondered what happened that night and as I write this reply, tears are rolling down my face. No one should have ever experienced how another human treated you. Through prayer and belief, you will be able to move on…love you Angie.

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