St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands, is one of the most breathtaking places in God’s universe. About three months ago, my best friend since childhood, Lisa Walker, left Los Angeles after a failed marriage and headed for the Caribbean in search of paradise. She settled on St. John, the smallest of the three U.S. Virgin Islands. Everyday she blew up my phone asking me to join her,

“Faith, girl, there are real men out here, pack your stuff and come on!”


Real men in the islands?? Now, I like my men well-groomed. I want them to smell good, have clean nails, preferably manicured, and no little nappy peas all over their head. I will consider dreadlocks, but they have to be salon finished, not those big clunky buzzard-nest-looking ones. Only God knows what’s growing up in those things! Let’s face it, with all the new beauty enhancement products on the market, there is no reason for anyone to step outside of their front door in the morning looking rough. Even Seven-Eleven sells hair gel.


Anyway, I decided to take Lisa up on her offer. I had absolutely nothing to lose. There was definitely a dry spell going on in my life. I went to work, I went to church, and I came home. The biggest highlight of my life was watching Home and Garden TV and waiting for the brother I’d been dating for four years to put his key in my door. That was one relationship that didn’t seem like it was moving forward no matter how hard I tried. Our relationship was as stagnant as a cesspool. The sad part was he was just as happy as a pig in sunshine. I guess you could say I was partly to blame. I cooked some lip-smacking, suck your fingers, and lick-your-plate-when-nobody-was-looking dinners for him like he was my husband. I’m talking about oxtails smothered in gravy, collard greens, bar-be-que ribs in my smoker out back, peach cobbler, black forest cake and sweet potato pie just like my grandma. And did I tell you I let the man stay the night at my house? Yeah, he stayed at least five nights out of the week. On most Friday and Saturday nights, he wanted to hang out with his boys. I told myself that was cool. I’d use Friday night to do our laundry and Saturday to shop for our groceries for the week and study my cookbooks so I could come up with some more interesting and exotic meals to cook for him during the week. My mother used to ask me all the time,

“Faith, when’s that man going to do the right thing and marry you?” My dad is the pastor and my mother is the “first lady” of Christ the Solid Rock Pentecostal Church in Atlanta, Georgia. Praise God they live in Atlanta, so they aren’t seeing my indiscretions right up in their faces.


About six months ago, my father decided to do something about this life of fornication I was leading. He gave Daemon a call while he was in Los Angeles for his annual pastor’s conference. When Daddy called me to ask for Daemon’s number, he said he wanted to take the young man out to dinner and get to know him better. I thought it was a great idea. Little did I know. My daddy told Daemon,

“My daughter that you’re sleeping with…I made her, and if you think you’re going to continue to take advantage of her, I’m here to tell you I’ll hurt you and ask God to forgive me.” Daemon got so mad at him! He came in my door pacing back and forth, ranting and raving about how he’s a man and doesn’t need anyone talking to him like that. Right before my eyes, the man turned into a monster. He really lost his mind when he told me I should be grateful for all the stuff he does for me. It was sad when I asked him exactly what it was that he does for me that I should be so grateful for. The fool could not come up with a thing. Well, he did come up with one thing, but I’m ashamed to tell anybody what that was. My daddy’s words really put a serious chill on our relationship. Daemon stopped coming around. I could not believe it! All the time we spent with each other. Who would think a threat from my daddy would put an end to our relationship? I mean not even a “let’s work this thing out.” Just gone! I felt so hurt and betrayed! How could this man just drop me like that? I prayed and asked God to keep me from doing something stupid. One night I lay in bed and thought of a bunch of mean things to do to this man. I went so far as to put sugar from my pantry in a measuring cup and headed over to his house to put it in his gas tank, but he wasn’t home. I just came back to my house sad, ate a half-gallon of ice cream and cried. The next morning, I changed the lock on my door, trashed Daemon’s toothbrush, and donated the clothes he left in my closet to the Salvation Army. Daddy sure did know how to put an end to a going nowhere relationship. He and Momma had spent a lot of time teaching me right from wrong and instilling godly values in me. I guess he thought if I didn’t have enough sense to realize I was allowing this man to disrespect me, he would make it plain for both of us.


I told my parents I was going to the Virgin Islands to visit Lisa for a few weeks. I didn’t tell them I’d rented out my townhouse to one of the Sunday school teachers at my church for a year so I could see first hand what was going on under Caribbean skies.