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Open Letter to Elaina Watley: Victor Cruz Is The Least of Your Problems

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CatchingFireNYscreeningVictorCruzandElainaWatley-balleralert.com
Catching Fire NY screening Victor Cruz and Elaina Watley- photo courtesy of balleralert.com

This is an open letter to Elaina Watley. Victor Cruz is irrelevant.

A couple of days ago, I read that you sent a group text to your man’s chillas (allow him to translate that) to incite anger between the dumb ass broads that are sleeping with your future husband. They didn’t fight with one another. They, probably, traded info because they don’t care.

Anyway, I get it. Totally. It came from a place of anger. A place of immense pain and I’m not here to judge you. I reflected on past relationships in which I had been betrayed by lovers. In some instances, the betrayal left me feeling a little bleh and others left me feeling like I wanted to drag the chicks and my exes by their skin through a street lined with spikes. We all get passed the hurt eventually.

Elaina Watley's text message

The text message that Elaina Watley sent to the mistresses.

Elaina Watley, I know that you love that man. You’ve asked, repeatedly, for him to love you the same way that you love him. He can’t, mamita. His ego won’t allow him to. In his twisted mind, he doesn’t owe you monogamy or respect because he’s Victor Cruz.

To be frank, he doesn’t owe you a damn thing. He should do right by you because karma is a bitch, but he doesn’t give a damn about her either. In a perfect world you, Kennedy, and Victor would live a beautiful life far away from the fame, cameras and other women. In a perfect world, you wouldn’t be scrutinized for what your heart wants but doesn’t need.

Victor Cruz and Elaina Watley.

Elaina Watley and Victor Cruz. Photo courtesy of playerswiki.com

I’m sure that your girlfriends have and are supporting you through this situation as they have before.  I’m certain that you are putting on a brave face for your daughter. Continue to do that because I know that you aren’t leaving. That’s not shade by the way. It is what it is. While you are confiding in the people who care about you, consider this: you need to take care of yourself and your baby.

I’m going to say a few things that will piss off feminists everywhere. Pay them no mind.  Stop. You don’t owe any of us shit so stay if that’s what you want to do. When you marry him (and you will), you treat your marriage as it was originally meant to be; a business arrangement.

Marrying for love is new in terms of history. Marriage was a business arrangement between families to combine wealth which is why the bride’s family or bride received a dowry before the actual wedding ceremony. You’ve given this man a child so you’ve done your part. He has an heir. You find love and happiness elsewhere. Secure a future for you and Kennedy. Do the bare minimum in your marriage. Hell, you don’t even have to screw him since he’s so busy. If he gets tired of the new and improved “Elaina Watley”, let him leave. You maintain your cool and status. Yep, I said it. Bathe in his insecurities and do not allow him to break your spirit.  Live your damn life as so many women of your stature do and have done. Stack your bread and don’t sign a prenup. This is real talk. This doesn’t make you weak. You see, my love, you can’t control what he does, but you CAN control what you allow to affect you. Everything has a price and it’s time to pay the piper. Take care of yourself.

Negra With Tumbao
K. Araújo, a native Detroiter, is a cross between Claire Huxtable, Rosie Pérez and Millie Jackson. Widow, bruja, Oni Yemaya, palera,  professional dragger of filth and Mami to the dopest Ethiopian EVER, she is the Editor in Chief of “Negra With Tumbao”, Staff Writer for “The Urban Twist” and a freelance contributor for major publications like The Root, VSB, Huffington Post, My Brown Baby and The Glow Up. ​  ​She has been known to shake what her mama gave her, is the hell and high water, an expert salsera and cussologist with a penchant for the finer things in life and is and forever shall be- unapologetically black.

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