The Last Black Unicorn - Tiffany Haddish Page 0,51

was trying to heat up the cabbage, and he choked the shit out of me. He told me I needed to shut up and listen, I talked too motherfucking much, and he choked me.

Now look—we’ve all been around drunk people we wanted to choke the fuck out of. And if I was raving about eating cabbage, then I was probably in that category. But still, it’s different to want to choke a drunk person, and to do it to your wife.

When he was choking me, at first I was just like, What the hell? Like, I could not even believe I was being choked.

Then my survival instincts kicked in.

I grabbed the pan on the stove next to me, and I hit him with it. He dropped his hands, and staggered a bit.

Now that I had my senses, and I could breathe, the rage came.

I threw a vicious right hand and punched him in the eye. That staggered him more, I guess he didn’t expect me to fight back.

I grabbed the first thing I could find, which was some pet spray—stuff for the carpet, for pets, you know? I sprayed that in his face. Apparently, that shit don’t feel good, because he started covering his eyes and screaming.

I didn’t stick around after that, I just wanted to get the fuck out the house.

But as I was running, somehow he caught me and tackled me and sat on me. He closed the door and just sat on me. He sat on me for about forty-five minutes, until I was just not moving or whatever.

He sat on me so long, because I kept fighting. I’d be still for a second, and just like bam, you know, flip out and try to get up out of there.

Ex-Husband: “You need to listen to me. You’re disrespectful. You’re ornery.”

Tiffany: “But you picked me. You married me. You came looking for me. I didn’t come looking for you. If you don’t like who I am, why the fuck you here? Let me up, and I’ll go.”

Ex-Husband: “Just shut the fuck up.”

But I wouldn’t shut up. That ain’t my thing, shutting up. He sat on me and lectured me, telling me how fucked up I was as a person or whatever for like an hour. Finally, he got off me, and he dragged me into the guest room and locked me in the guest room.

Ex-Husband: “You’re not coming out till you’re calm. Bitch, you stay in the holding tank.”

I was a prisoner. In my own home.

Ladies, a quick word of advice: that shit is a felony. I did not know it at the time, but someone locking you away without your consent is straight-up kidnapping. A felony. I should have just called the police, but I didn’t know that.

He kept me in there till the next day.

Ex-Husband: “Are you ready to be a mature adult now? Are you ready to talk up a conversation like a regular adult?”

Tiffany: “Yeah, let’s talk.”

He opened the door, and I walked straight out to the bedroom, got out my suitcase, and I started packing my shit.

Tiffany: “You can talk to me while I pack my shit. I’m leaving. I’m out of here. I’m going go to my grandma’s house.”

Ex-Husband: “Not in my car. You’re not taking my car.”

Tiffany: “That’s okay. I’ll take my Geo Metro.”

That thing was barely working, but I wouldn’t get rid of the Geo.

Tiffany: “I still got my apartment. I’ll go back to my apartment with my ornery ass.”

Ex-Husband: “No. You don’t got to go nowhere. I’m out of here. I’m leaving.”

He just got in the car and left. That was easy. Then his mama called me:

Mama: “Why did you send my son home? What the hell?”

Tiffany: “I didn’t send him nowhere. Your son choked me. Your son sat on me. Your son locked me up. Your son is abusive.”

I took pictures of my throat and stuff and sent them to her.

Mama: “Oh you’re a great actress. You’re a wonderful makeup artist.”

Tiffany: “I ain’t no makeup artist. Did you see my makeup at the wedding? I did that myself, and it was horrible, so knock that shit off.”

I ended up taking him back. He apologized, sort of, and sent me gifts, and I felt terrible about everything, and we got back together.

I felt like maybe it was my fault, because I was intoxicated. Maybe I wasn’t listening. Maybe I was doing too much wrong. So maybe it was my fault. That’s how I felt at the time.

I know, I