The Love Playbook: Rules for Love, Sex, and Happiness

by La La Anthony

  TRL was a game changer. It not only exposed me to a broader audience, but I also knew that there’d never been an African-American Hispanic in the studio every day on a show like that. MTV had Sway. But he did the news. And there was Ananda Lewis. But she was more “exotic.” She didn’t necessarily come off as black. I was very proud to represent.

  TRL was the hottest show on television at the time for a young demographic, and everybody in the industry, not just music folks, wanted to appear on it. It taped live in the middle of Times Square. The studio had floor-to-ceiling windows and you could look out and see that giant Nissin Cup o’ Noodles where they dropped the ball every New Year. And you could look down on the screaming crowd of teenagers that packed Times Square when we were on. It was surreal. These kids would come there just for a glimpse of whoever would be on set that day. You could see anyone from John Travolta to Madonna, Mariah Carey to Denzel Washington. It was bananas and I was going to be a part of it. I was twenty-one years old, making six figures, and on the hottest show in the world.

  I was pulling double duty on MTV. After TRL, I would still go and host Direct Effect. I would go from interviewing Tom Cruise in one hour on TRL to chilling with Mobb Deep the next.

  Clue and I, of course, became very close. We were on the air together every day. I would host club dates with him at least twice a week. I was loving this crazy, fast-paced New York life. I was settling back into the town of my youth. I had a fly apartment in trendy Edgewater, New Jersey. I had a brand-new Mercedes-Benz truck, and I was open to having a relationship. I would always complain to Clue about being in New York and not having that special someone to hang out with. It was high school all over again. Guys weren’t approaching me, and if they were it was for me to help them with their career. “Can you introduce me to [fill in the blank]” was what I was hearing.

  I said to Clue, “Hook me up with somebody good.” And he would say, “You don’t want me to hook you up . . .”

  This one time I asked him, it was the exact moment that he was getting a text from his boy Carmelo Anthony. He looked at his phone and looked at me and said, “Oh, shit . . . I think I have somebody for you to meet.”

  “Who?”

  “Carmelo Anthony.”

  I knew the name. He had been a college phenom and had won the NCAA championship for Syracuse. He was in Denver. Denver wasn’t on my map at all. And I wasn’t a big college basketball fan, so I really didn’t know much about him outside of his championship at Syracuse.

  “He’s an NBA basketball player,” Clue told me. “He just got drafted.”

  “A basketball player? And a rookie?! For real? You must think I have ‘stupid’ written across my forehead!”

  I just wasn’t interested. A rookie to me was someone young and inexperienced in life. And a rookie baller? He had to be just out there running crazy, burning through those millions and all of the female opportunities.

  Clue kind of laughed. “No,” he said, reassuring me. “He’s mad cool. I wouldn’t do you like that.”

  “Nah, that’s okay.”

  “It’s not the end of the world. Just hang out and see how it goes.”

  Melo was in town and he just happened to be at the club where Clue was hosting that night. I remember seeing this very tall, handsome man surrounded by a bunch of girls, and I knew it was Carmelo Anthony. I went over and introduced myself and told him Clue told me he was cool. He said he knew who I was. And we chatted very briefly. I kept it casual and kept it moving. I’m sure I was thinking, “This is not going anywhere.”

  I was hanging in the VIP section with Clue and a few of my friends, and Carmelo sent a bottle over to our table.

  “This is so predictable,” I thought, but I drank the champagne and thanked him from across the room, holding a glass up. Drinks on him! When he was ready to leave, he came over to our section.

  “What are you doing after this?” he said.

  After this? It was three o’clock in the morning. I told him I was going home and going to sleep. I had to work the next day.

  “Okay, get home safe. I’m here in New York for a minute. Maybe we can hang out.”

  “I’ll see what Clue’s doing tomorrow and I’ll get up with y’all.”

  “Why does Clue have to be around for us to hang out?” he asked.

  That stuck out for me and I tucked it away for future consideration. That was the first sign that he liked me. He wanted to see me alone. For some reason, however, we could never seem to catch up with each other during his stay in New York. We would make plans and we kept canceling on each other. But we talked a lot on the phone. This is where our friendship really blossomed. The conversation never got romantic, but we had a lot in common and of course, my love of basketball had us debating stuff like who is the best player of all time all night long.

  That summer, I was in Long Beach, California. Every summer back then, MTV would move to the MTV Beach House, where the entire MTV team would move into a house together in some hot city—from Miami to Lake Tahoe. That summer it was Long Beach. Those were some of the most memorable times of my life. When you’re living it, you’re not thinking about it. But looking back, I know there will never be another time like that. To be young, free, in the mix, and having a blast . . . priceless.

  One afternoon I got a phone call.

  “Where are you?” It was Melo.

  I told him I was in Long Beach.

  He said, “I’m thinking about making a pit stop. I’ll come through and check you out.”

  It wasn’t like he was coming just to see me. (Or so I thought at the time.) I knew Nelly was shooting a video near there and he and Nelly were friends. I was like, “Cool, let me know.”

  “I’m getting on a plane now and I’ll be there.”

  After I hung up, I got butterflies thinking about seeing him. Uh-oh. I was getting a little nervous because I was starting to like him. And I knew he was starting to like me, too. He would say little things that let me know he liked me.

  A couple of hours later, I got another call from him.

  “Yo, bad weather. The flight couldn’t take off. I’m not coming.”

  I was so disappointed.

  Then he started laughing. “I’m just kidding! I’m at the hotel across the way.”

  We laughed and that was a moment for me when I knew: “I really like this guy.”

  That night we went out to eat. The next day he said he was driving to Los Angeles to hang out with Nelly on the set of his video. Oh, brother. I thought Melo was going to get on that video set and I wouldn’t hear from him. Back then, video sets for rappers were notorious playgrounds. What young man wouldn’t get sucked into all of that? But Melo said he was coming back to hang out and he did. He was back in time for us to go to dinner. He didn’t owe me that. We hung out alone that night instead of with his entourage and mine. And that’s when we had our first kiss.

  That weekend there was a major boxing match in Vegas. Melo said he was going and invited me and some of my friends to hang out with him in Vegas. I and a couple of my girlfriends who were chilling with me in Long Beach rented a car and drove to Vegas. It was the best road trip ever. We shared a room in Vegas, and after checking in, we went to Melo’s room—or should I say his suite? It was huge. I wasn’t used to walking into the biggest hotel rooms in Vegas. It was incredible. We three girls were crashing in one room together, and here he had this whole floor in a major casino. It was crazy.

  It was the night of the fight. My friends had scattered and so did his. It was Vegas. Nobody wanted to sit in a room in Vegas all night. There’s just too much to do there. It was time for the fight and I didn’t have tickets. Melo had gotten his ticket through his sports connection a while back and the fight was sold out.

  “You know, I don’t really want to go,” he said.

  “What?!”

  “I’m not goin
g,” he said.

  “But you came here just to go to the fight!” I said.

  He didn’t go and it was great. We spent the night talking. We ordered room service and had a great time. As the night went on, I was itching to gamble. Everyone knows I love to gamble. Back then I was playing the $5 and $10 blackjack tables. As we headed into the casino, we were stopped by security.

  “We need to see your ID,” they said.

  You have to be twenty-one to go into the casinos. That’s when I found out that Carmelo wasn’t of age. You have got to be kidding me! I was shocked. He was nineteen when we met. I assumed he was older. I don’t know why. I just did. He was in the club, sending over bottles—of course he was over twenty-one.

  Had I known he was only nineteen when we met, I never would have given him the time of day. He would not have stood a chance. I felt crazy enough when I found out his age, but it was too late then. When I told my friends, they started teasing me about robbing the cradle and calling me Mrs. Robinson. I was only a few years older than he was, but he was so young that it mattered. We definitely wouldn’t have gotten to the point where I could fall in love had I known his age. I guess it was fate that I didn’t.

  I was only twenty-two myself, but girls typically mature faster than guys. I had been grown (in my mind) a long time. Come to find out, he wasn’t a typical nineteen-year-old. While there were areas where he was definitely young (because as an elite baller he was coddled and taken care of from an early age), he also had responsibilities that many men his age simply never did. He was a multimillionaire. He had a full-time job that required that he perform at a high level and have a strong work ethic. He owned his own home, a large property in Denver. He had cars. He had a chef. He was a man.

  I tried to stop thinking about his age, and to judge him on how he acted.

  After Vegas, I was shocked twice. Because in addition to discovering his age, I also discovered that I was falling in love.

  When we first met, there were a few sparks, but I quickly put them out. I was adamant about not dating a professional basketball player. I was cautious because of the stereotypes. So I kept my feelings at bay. I really had to think about whether I wanted to enter that kind of world. Initially, I decided that I didn’t.

  But about three or four months into the friendship, it was becoming something and I couldn’t deny it anymore. When we were apart, he was saying that he missed me and that his life felt emptier without me—things buddies didn’t say to each other.

  A few months after Vegas, during basketball season, Melo asked me to come visit him in Denver. He was in the throes of his first NBA season and couldn’t come to see me in New York. I remember one night we were on the phone and he was saying that he needed me there.

  “I have a job. I have to work. I can’t just pick up and leave,” I told him.

  “What time do you have to be there?” he asked me.

  I told him.

  “Okay. I’ll have a plane waiting for you when you get off. You can come see me and be back in New York in time for your show tomorrow.”

  I had a car pick me up from my apartment and take me to Teterboro Airport in New Jersey. I had never flown private before and it was all very exciting. I never let on, though. I played it real cool, like I flew private all the time.

  I got to the airport, gave them the plane number. Someone came and got my bags and escorted me to the tarmac and onto the plane. No security checks. No drama. I was the only one on the plane. Just me and the pilot. I was taking pictures and sending them to my friends. The plane was like some fancy conference room with its plush seating. This was the life.

  I made that trip several times, and each time I was getting pulled in. Each trip brought me closer and closer. Before I knew it, I was in love. I couldn’t wait to see him again. And he was asking me to come every week and then every other day. I clearly remember days of flying to Denver for a few days, landing in New York and going straight to MTV to tape TRL and getting off work and flying right back to Denver. I’d be dead tired, but I never let anyone know that I literally had just gotten off the plane and gone straight on the air.

  I knew he was in love, too. Guys aren’t the most communicative beings, so when they start saying things like “I miss you!” and “Life’s not the same without you,” you start getting clues that they’re falling for you. That and not being able to get enough of you.

  We were together all the time. We were having fun, enjoying one another, just the two of us.

  Then I got pregnant.

  TIMEOUT

  And Baby Makes Three . . . but

  What About the Two?

  Becoming a mother affected our relationship. Your whole world changes in an instant. It’s no longer about you and your husband; it’s now all about the child. But if you want to keep your relationship healthy, you’re going to have to balance the baby time with the couple time. Your kids will be happier in the long run if you have a healthy, happy marriage.

  I know a couple whose entire lives revolve around their kid. Their child does everything with them . . . literally. They don’t go anywhere without their kid. They won’t even let anyone babysit for them.

  My question is, “When do you guys have time for each other?”

  You need to spend time away from your kid and focus on just the two of you every now and then. You should go on vacations without the kid and definitely have date nights where it’s all about you and him. I’m so involved that I want Kiyan around all the time. But I know that Melo and I need our time, too, to have adult time. I used to feel bad when I didn’t include Kiyan in everything we did. But there are things he doesn’t need to be exposed to.

  With children, you want to be a great parent, but you can’t forget to nurture your relationship because I believe that’s part of good parenting.

  I’ve heard people say a thousand times, “We stayed together for the kids.” I’ve seen people in miserable relationships who damn near hate each other, but they stayed together twenty years. For the kids?

  That’s classic. And while some people applaud that, I don’t. I think if you’re staying together just for the kids and you’re miserable, your kids know it, and it creates a whole different kind of dysfunction. What child feels good while Mommy or Daddy or both are miserable, having secret fights or just not speaking to each other day to day, but they’re “staying together” for his or her sake?

  Kids know. Kids are smart. And while you may think you’re hiding something, you’re not. You end up doing more damage. So don’t use your children as an excuse for staying in a bad relationship.

  And if you want to keep your relationship going well, be sure to make time for each other and make the relationship as much about the two of you as about your kids.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Scrimmage:

  Pros and Cons of Shacking Up

  Scrimmage: An unofficial game between two teams in a practice situation.

  Let me back up to . . . before I got pregnant.

  It was Christmas Day 2003, and Melo and I were going through all the gifts under the tree in Denver. I love Christmas—it’s my favorite holiday—and there were so many presents under the tree that year, I didn’t know where to begin. I was like a real kid.

  But there was nothing over-the-top among the gifts. I got to the last box and there were some pajamas in it. I thought, “That’s cool . . . but is that it?”

  At the end of the night, after dinner, he just said out of the blue, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” and he handed me a box.

  I said yes!

  This wasn’t a one-knee proposal. He didn’t call my parents and ask for permission. It wasn’t traditional. But it was romantic and I was ecstatic. I had no idea it would take six years from that Christmas Day proposal to finally tie the knot.

  Six years!<
br />
  I began to wonder if we would ever get married. I wasn’t the only one thinking it. The media had jokes calling me the “eternal fiancée.” I thought that maybe I had made a mistake by moving in with him.

  What was his incentive to get married? We were engaged, living together; we now had a child. He was getting all the benefits without having to actually say “I do.”

  I know you’ve heard the saying “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” It’s something my mother used to say to me all the time. Melo was getting the milk, the cheese, the cream, everything.

  I’ve had a few friends over the years who found themselves in a similar situation, and my advice to them was “Don’t live with him! Don’t play house.”

  Now here I was, not taking my own advice.

  The good news was that Melo really did love me and I believed that he wanted to marry me; he just didn’t have a compelling enough reason to actually go through with it. I believe it’s that way with most men. I don’t know too many men who are begging to get married, who are just jumping for joy and running to the altar. For most men, marriage is a necessary evil that they agree to because they love a woman and they want her to be happy or because it’s what you’re supposed to do. But if they can have everything without that piece of paper, they’re thinking, “What difference does it make?”

  What really changed it for me was having Kiyan. It wasn’t just having our son; it was also what we went through to have him. It could have either made us or broken us. But his birth brought us even closer together.