An overly-eager artist being welcomed into the industry is taken on a bumpy ride as she learns life does not have as many sunny days as she thought. Within the process, she comes to learn that her tour guide is a lot more important to her than she e...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
January 27, 1986 Los Angeles, California
The plethora of first times I experienced at 21-years-old have nothing to do with the shifts I experienced last year. There was a new regime coming and it started out completely in my favor. The pieces of my external success were all falling into their rightful places and it was suddenly time for to step to the plate. I had some changes to make.
My jealousy of my peers' love affairs struck a nerve in me, fueling irrational thinking that I deceived me as it posed as maturity. I wanted my man and I wanted a ring. I thought if I moved in with Omar then he'd be happy enough to finally 'give me his all,' as I used to say. The face value of the move looked like it was working.
As soon as I let him know that I was ready to live with him, Omar went and bought a brand house for the two of us. The place was a beauty that resided near Prince's past Kiowa Trail home, a house he was planning to gift his father now that he's set up shop on Galpin Boulevard. The home Omar purchased was three bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, and nothing short of pretty. I loved it. I'm a simple girl and it felt like the right fit for me as I entered what I considered heaven.
But just like Aaliyah said, jealousy is a motherfucker. Jealousy drove me to push for the move and jealousy drove Omar crazy as he constantly attempted to compete with everything about my existence. He wanted to compete about money with me, he wanted to compete about hours spent working anyone, and he wanted to compete with Prince about time spent with me. We were about eight months into our relationship and I thought he'd be adjusted to my lifestyle. Many of those things were out of my control but a few of the things he disliked most weren't. His biggest nuisances were my focus on my career and, well, Prince. The two interlacing placed us on the boarding floor for a trip through hell.
I struggled to pull the phone away from my ear as Omar ranted and yapped about his family drama between his cousins over a parking spot. "Okay, baby, I gotta go! Remember why I'm here?" He wouldn't let me get off of the phone. Ending phone calls with him continued to get harder and harder over time. I didn't want to be rude and hang up on him but I had to get to wardrobe in the next fifteen minutes. It was the night of the thirteenth American Music Award ceremony and I didn't want to be late. One thing I wasn't going to be was late.
"I know. I just—"
I had to drop the phone. I couldn't do it. I felt so bad but so would my publicists, Maria, if I was late for the red carpet. I was fresh off a tour and movie set after announcing the next leg of the tour I paused. I had no choice but to walk that carpet. The constant running and gunning never silenced my conscience. I felt bad for him sometimes. The simplest things I had to do cut him out of the equation. For example, getting ready took at least two hours for me and that was what I had to do. So, I had to get him off the phone. I was slowly cutting him out of my everyday life and while it was completely unintentional, I know it was eating him alive.
