Side Dishes, Side Eyes, and Side Chicks: A Thanksgiving Story.

I love a good Thanksgiving spread. Well-seasoned side dishes, a perfectly baked mac and cheese, and a table full of baked goods and desserts. What I do not love is being served a heaping plate of drama alongside the cranberry sauce.

The title tells you most of what you need to know: I was officially designated the "Side Chick" at a family Thanksgiving dinner, and I didn't even know it until the meal was halfway cold. Because when you’re dating in your 40’s, the red flags don't come on tiny little sticks; they come dressed in jeans, uggs and fall hues, giving you the meanest side eyes you’ve ever seen.

I had been dating this man, and things felt promising; you know the vibes: good conversation, consistency, and a seemingly shared vision. So when he invited me to Thanksgiving dinner with his entire family, I saw it as a green light. I showed up, prepared to be charismatic, complimentary of the cornbread and sweet potato soufflé (the one with the nuts and toasted marshmallows on top; you know, the fancy kind), not expecting any drama or shade.

As I circulated, shaking hands and being introduced, I noticed something odd. The women, his sisters. aunties, and female cousins were giving me the “mean mug,” stare down and the most intense side eyes. I’m talking full-on head turns, the type of surveillance I complained about in "The Algorithm of Envy," but in real life. I initially dismissed it: Maybe they just don’t like me. Maybe it’s just that mean girl energy.

But the energy was too synchronized, too intense, and far too uncomfortable to be random jealousy. It wasn't until I went to the kitchen for a second piece of sweet potato pie (don't judge my priorities) and overheard two cousins whispering, when I finally connected the dots.

I realized I wasn't just a girl he was dating; I was a mystery guest. A last-minute substitution. The silent judgment wasn't about my personality; it was about his deception. Those side eyes were the flashing red light I needed, delivered by women who were trying to signal a warning without risking a scene with their family member.

In that moment, I found the only thing that felt right was leaving. The integrity of the side dishes was the only thing I could trust.

This experience was a spiritual accountability check wrapped in a linen napkin. It showed me that clarity often comes through uncomfortable moments, and sometimes, God uses the least expected sources, like a table full of side-eye-throwing cousins, to expose a lie.

The lesson for my 40+ self: Stop trying to mentally justify what your gut is clearly telling you. If the energy is off, the energy is off. We are too grown to ignore coordinated side eyes. We need to trust the warnings, even if they aren't delivered with kind words. My healing journey continues to teach me that my peace is too expensive to be exchanged for a plate of deceptive hospitality.

I left Thanksgiving that day grateful for a full plate, an empty schedule, and the beautiful, undeniable truth that God will use anybody, even the pettiest cousin in the kitchen to deliver you from a man who doesn’t respect your time or your worth.

And here's the best part: I never contacted him, and he never reached out to me. It was a beautiful, mutual understanding that I picked up with they put down. He knew he was caught, and I knew I was gone. No drama, no arguing, no rationalizing, just the quiet dignity of a woman who values her time more than a lie.

His Momma’s mac & cheese was fire though!! Lol

Continue to write your story, one healing page at a time... QP