Random Negro Stories File: Return of the Bison/One Degree of Separation

I’m convinced that God uses my dating life for his personal entertainment. You know what’s coming: another installment of Random Negro Stories File. Yippee!

This one features an oldie but goodie: The Bison.

I told y’all about how since the break-off dude hit me up like a month later, making small talk and I pretty much shut him down. Well since then I discovered that he reconnected with the chick he might be talking to (since I can’t definitively say that he is) just a few days after he stood me up. Facebook gives out waaaay too much information. I have to stop e-stalking people because I always find out stuff that I could have lived without knowing.

Then the other day I log into my yahoo personals account and guess who these folks have matched me up with. Yep. The Bison. So I was confused because as far as Facebook tells me (LOL), he’s still dating that girl. So why is he on Yahoo Personals? Of course you know I clicked on his profile, just to see how he advertises himself and after reading it I wish I hadn’t because it wasn’t worth him being able to see that I had viewed his profile. LOL.

So anyway, because that wouldn’t be a random enough story, guess out of all people the in the world who walked into the doors of my new church home: The Bison, and his “new chick.”

They were sitting in the front row, so I’m not sure if he saw me when I walked by to put my offering in the basket, but as I was leaving I got cornered by a church lady and almost ended up bumping into him. I haven’t seen him since the last time we hung out and I didn’t really want to have that awkward ‘oh hey how you doing’ convo with his new chick just a few feet in front of us.

Oh, and tell me why in the course of writing this post did I discover (on Facebook of course, didn't I just tell myself to stop!) that a new guy I’m quasi dating is friends with The Lube Thief. (Sidebar: The Lube Thief also has a profile up on BlackPeopleMeet.com. I’m starting to hate the Internet.) Like they go back to elementary school. I finally meet a guy in person (at a club) and then my Internet transgressions still catch up with me. Why me? I wonder how close they are and whether I’d have to reveal that I did the hokey pokey with his friend. I need my local Congressman to write some laws on this. HELP!

A Plea for Help, From Me to You.

Hello my good readers. I was talking to a good friend the other day about why he had to break up with his girl, and it prompted me to write the following open letter to the women who are making my dating life hard. Yea I know you teach people how to treat you and all that jazz, but my life would be so much easier if I didn't have to undo all the bad habits you've instilled in your former beaus with your actions.

Dear Bad Women Daters:

Let me open this letter with a spirit of thanks. Thank you for being a bad girl friend, thus making your ex available for me to date. However I must say that you did quite a number on him because I’m sure had he not dated you prior to me, I wouldn’t have to encounter the foolishness that makes my Random Negro Stories File possible. Well maybe I should thank you for that too. It does make for good blogging. But we are getting off track here.

On to the three things I'd like you to stop doing ASAP:

I would like you to stop not acting like a lady. Let your guy open doors for you and help you with your coat. Maybe then your ex wouldn’t have told me “this sh*t is getting old” when I sat in the car and waited for him to come around and open my door. (Needless to say that date ended before it really started.) As Uncle Steve says, “Chivalry is not dead, it’s just not required anymore.” Maybe I can get my local Congressman to slip some language into a bill to mandate chivalry again. I'd appreciate it.

I would like you to stop making first date plans. I need me a man with a plan. And you bad women daters have made it way too easy for these dudes to not come up with anything to do. I have great ideas for dates. I’m always emailing myself links for things and take note of the stuff I hear other couples doing, but I want someone who’s going to come up with something for us to do. For a first date (and let me emphasize first date here) all I want to have to do is show up, look cute, and engage you with my conversation. There’ll be plenty of time later for me to come up with things for us to do (outside of the bedroom).

Which brings me to my last point:

I would like you to stop sitting on your lazy ass talking about all you want to do is lay up in the house and f*ck. I am a social being, and while I enjoy the occasional “Let’s make it a blockbuster night” or the “Let’s cuddle to the sound of the rain against my window pane” moments, I want my dating experience to be about way more than that. I actually want to get out of the house. I want to go to movies, museums, happy hours, live band nights, and miniature golfing, and to amusement parks! I want to have picnics in the park and go to wine tastings, and gush at the cherry blossoms. Stop letting these men get out of practice!

I promise to do my part to leave the world with better men so you should do yours.

Thanks in advance for your time and consideration,

CocaColaCutie

Random Negro Stories File: Mr. Telephone Man

Hey peoples. I know it’s been a long time, but I figured I’d dust off the old blog, to share another one of my Random Negro Stories.

Last night I was home minding my own business when my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, but local, so I figured it was someone I’d recently given my number to and I answered.

The person asked for me by name but because I had no idea who it was I asked what his name was. The name doesn’t sound familiar, but to protect the “innocent” well call him Mr. Telephone Man. In an effort to jog my memory, the dude says, “I met you on the chat line.”

RECORD SCRATCH.

Now I know I use a lot of unconventional methods to meet men, but a chat line is not one of them. I ask Mr. Telephone Man for the number to this “chat line” and proceed to google it. My search yields me this result.

Here’s an excerpt for what the chat line promises:

Nightline chat line is the hottest female adult and male adult telephone personals dating service in Baltimore connecting hundreds of local women and local men everyday. Whether you are looking for long-term relationships in Baltimore, casual dates in Baltimore, erotic encounters in Baltimore, fantasies in Baltimore, or couples and swingers in your local Baltimore area Nightline has it all. Nightline Baltimore members ranging from various ages, interests, lifestyles, backgrounds, and personalities.

According to the site, finding the person you want is “fast and easy.”

WHAT IN THE HE SAY SHE SAY?

I don’t even live in Baltimore! Granted it’s not that far from the part of Silver Spring that I live in, but I’m vehicularly challenged so there’s absolutely positively no reason for me be trying to solicit B-more booty.

According to the site here’s how the chat line works:

When you call Nightline we will set you up with your own free voice mailbox that lets you receive messages from other members. You can also record your own audio greeting for others members to listen. Afterwards, spend some time browsing the Baltimore chat network and check out member profiles in five distinct communities. Nightline also has the hottest live chat room where members talk and discuss anything they like.

So Mr. Telephone Man continues to insist that he spoke with me earlier in the day (via this live chat) and that I gave him my number. I continue to insist that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Dude starts recounting “my” description of myself, but when he says light skin, he’s obviously all kinds of off. (CocaColaCutie is not only a reference to my coke bottle shape—watch out now—but also to my coca cola complexion.)

With all my badgering about where this dude came up with my number from, he gets scared off and says he’ll “call me right back.” He doesn’t, so I looked up his number in the White pages, but it turns out to be a mobile number. I called it back today (from the work phone) to see if I could get any more details from a voicemail greeting or something. But it was a generic one.

At first I started to think Nephew Tommy (from the Steve Harvey Morning Show) was playing on my phone, but dude hung up without revealing as much, so I had to rule that out. So now I’m like who in the eff is impersonating me on a dating/erotic services chatline.

Friends I’ve told this story to asked if there was a crazy ex-bf or someone else that could have put dude up to this. I haven’t had a bf in a minute so I’m left only to think that it’s one of the random negroes in my life that may or may not have warranted a mention on this blog. WTF. Why do these things only happen to me? I wonder if I can get my local Congressman to launch an investigation into this.