Ella Mai: “When I first met Jason Tatum, I’ll be honest—I didn’t think too much of it. She wasn’t what I expected, not at all. At that time in my life, everything revolved around MUSIC—MUSIC was taking shape, and I was consumed by the MUSIC, the MUSIC, the road ahead. Romance? It wasn’t on my radar. But—Jason Tatum—he walked into my life like a different kind of melody. Not loud, not flamboyant, just real… I was used to the chaos of the Sports, the wild nights, the constant movement. And she was steady—firm, thoughtful, sincere. At first, I didn’t know what to..
“I was used to the chaos of the Sports, the wild nights, the constant movement. And she was steady—firm, thoughtful, sincere. At first, I didn’t know what to…”
I was used to the chaos of the Sports, the wild nights, the constant movement. And she was steady—firm, thoughtful, sincere. At first, I didn’t know what to make of that. It threw me off. I didn’t know how to let calm in when I’d built my life in the middle of a storm.
I was constantly flying between cities, chasing wins, being pulled into interviews, meetings, endorsements—always on. Always proving. Always performing. The silence between the noise wasn’t peace to me back then—it was uncomfortable. Like I wasn’t doing enough. And then Ella showed up in my life, and she didn’t try to match the pace. She didn’t try to compete with it. She just stayed her course—slow, grounded, graceful.
I remember the first real conversation we had. We’d been introduced at a party, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. A quick hello. Nothing more. But a few weeks later, we crossed paths again, and this time something was different. I was coming off a tough road trip—mentally drained, sore all over, running on caffeine and frustration. She saw me—not the version people cheered for on TV, but me. The tired, worn-out, unsure me.
We talked for over an hour that night. No distractions, no cameras. Just two people sitting on a rooftop, talking about music, family, home. She had this way of listening that made you feel like your words actually mattered—not because she was interested in who I was publicly, but because she cared to understand who I was privately.
I wasn’t used to that. Most people around me wanted something—tickets, photos, stories. Ella didn’t want anything from me. She just wanted to know me.
At first, I tried to keep it surface. Talked about my schedule, training, upcoming games—safe stuff. But she didn’t feed into that. She asked, “But how are you?” Like, really asked. And it made me pause. Because I hadn’t been asked that in a long time without someone expecting a polished answer.
That moment stayed with me.
We started seeing more of each other—slowly, naturally. I never called it dating, not at first. I didn’t know how to fit someone into my life when my calendar was already packed with commitments. But she never asked to be “fit in.” She didn’t demand attention or time. She simply offered her presence, and somehow, it became the one thing I started craving more than sleep.
It’s strange how love creeps in—not with fireworks, but with quiet moments. Like watching her sip tea while reading, humming a tune under her breath. Or the way she’d send me voice notes when I was on the road—short, unfiltered messages that sounded like home. And I’d listen to them over and over again in hotel rooms that all looked the same.
I didn’t know I needed stability until I felt it.
I didn’t know I was lonely until I wasn’t.
Being with Ella forced me to slow down. Not because she told me to, but because I wanted to. I started turning down invites, choosing nights in over nights out. I began thinking more intentionally about my future—not just my career, but the man I wanted to be outside of it. She didn’t change me. She just gave me space to grow. And she waited patiently while I figured it out.
But it wasn’t always easy.
There were times I pushed her away—unintentionally. Times when the pressure got heavy, and I shut down. I’d go dark, retreat into myself, tell her “I’m good” when I wasn’t. And she’d give me space, but never too much. She knew when to lean in and when to step back. That’s the kind of emotional intelligence you can’t teach. She just got me.
And when I finally let her all the way in, I realized something that shook me—I’d never really let anyone see all of me before. The messy, unpolished, scared parts. The side of me that wasn’t sure if I could carry the weight of expectations. But she saw those parts and never flinched.
She didn’t fall in love with the highlight reel. She loved the full picture.
And somewhere along the line, I did the same. I fell in love with her mind, her laugh, the way she spoke with intention and moved with grace. I fell in love with her discipline, her vulnerability, her unwavering sense of self. She didn’t need to be the loudest in the room—she was the room.
Being with her felt like finding a rhythm I never knew I was missing. Like the beat I’d been chasing all my life had been waiting quietly in the background, and now I could finally hear it.
She made love feel possible again. Real. Not some fairytale, not some performance, but something deeply human. Full of flaws and forgiveness. Growth and patience. Passion and peace.
Looking back, I think the biggest shift was realizing that I didn’t have to carry it all alone. I didn’t have to be the strong one all the time. I didn’t have to hide my doubts. Ella gave me the freedom to be vulnerable. And that’s the greatest gift anyone’s ever given me.
She met me where I was—but never let me stay there. She challenged me to be better. For myself. For her. For us.
And now, I can’t imagine my world without her. Not because she completes me—but because she reminds me of who I truly am when everything else fades away.
Would you like this adapted into a monologue-style script or shared as part of a larger project?
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