Happy New Year y'alls. What's the absolute last day of January that you can say that anyway?
Yea I took another hiatus. I was off work and battling a cold for pretty much my entire two-and-a-half week vacay. But this one was way shorter than the rest right?!? But enough excuses and on to the post!
I’m so lazy y’all. I had started this great post about the 2009 Random Negroes and it was going to be like ‘rate your favorite’ Random Negro type thing. So didn’t happen. BUT since I believe in better late than never here are the beginnings of what I was going to post.
Random Negro Wrapup. I wanted to do one of these last year, but y’all know I take irregularly scheduled hiatuses.
Anyway, take a stroll down memory lane with me as I recap some of 2009’s most memorable Random Negros.
NFL. We started off the year right, or so I thought. Actually it was all kinds of wrong. It was New Years Eve. He had to escort me from the club’s drunk tank. Somehow I recovered from that and we kept in touch for a while. But when he came back to DC (He lived in NY at the time) for Inauguration festivities things we less than stellar. Then to make things worse he invited me up to NY in April for his birthday weekend, but then uninvited me on the sly, by not giving me the details. Actually I’m still waiting for the call to let me know about the birthday plans. Maybe I should get my local congressman to do something about that USPS service. But judging by the photos on Facebook my invite must have accidentally-on-purposely gone to his ex-gf.
The Bison. Technically he fizzled out before 2009 started, but he contacted me on Facebook in early January, just to see how I was doing. I was very short in my response and didn’t inquire about him, so that was the last I “officially” heard from him. Even though he was gone I couldn’t escape him. Yahoo Personals matched me up with him and He showed up at my old church with his new girlfriend. Talk about awkward.
Fatigues. He was a “gem” I found on BlackPeopleMeet.com. I should have known better than to go out with him when the first time he called me he was pretending to be a radio disc jockey telling me I had won a date with him. Anyway. Fatigues was in the military, Army or Air Force. I can’t really remember and don’t really want to for that matter. Anyway things pretty much ended before they started. We didn’t even make it through an entire date. I ended up walking off on him once we got to the lounge we were going to after he announced that he was sick of opening the car door for me.
Curry Chicken. He actually made it to the BF stage. I was excited too. He would have lasted longer if he hadn’t been all scarred and paranoid that I would cheat on him after I complained that we didn’t get to spend enough time together. But hindsight being 20-20 things worked out for the best. If his emotional baggage wasn’t enough (yeah like I’m one to talk) he also came with a lot of family baggage. He lived with his sister and family (husband and two kids). Counting his mama, who was always just a Bolt/Chinatown/Vamoose bus ride away I was constantly on the backburner.
Anyway, those are just a few off top. Let me know who your favorites were. The Random Negroes have been few and far between. (Thank you Jesus!) Not much new going on with me. Still trying to grow hair and lose weight.
Anyway, here’s to hoping that your Twenty-Ten is grand!
Showing posts with label Random Negro Stories File. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random Negro Stories File. Show all posts
Monday, January 4, 2010
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Random Negro Stories File: C-O-N-spiracy
You ever you talk to someone you haven’t talked to in a while and you think to yourself, man I’m glad things worked out the way they did?
I JUST had one of those moments, with a Random Negro. (Were you really expecting it to be anyone else?)
Let’s call him Conspiracy Theory. We met sometime around last winter, maybe around February or so. We had one date. I remember we met up somewhere downtown DC and he was late as hell. I chewed him out about it and he was like we don’t have to do this but I really want to because you’re cute.
I melted. I should have reactivated the icebox where my heart used to be.
He spent most of the time talking about his ex and that 2012 doomsday/conspiracy theory stuff. At the time I’d never heard of it and I just thought he was cuckoo for cocoa puffs. I’m still not buying it. Maybe I’ll ask my local congressman to start a task force to edumacate me.
Anyway I’m taking entirely too long to get to the point. He contacted me on yahoo messenger, asked how I’ve been, yada yada yada. I told him I moved to Baltimore and am in a relationship now. He congratulated me and then told me that love wasn’t for him.
I asked why and he said that he just got played recently and ended up in the hospital. Apparently he was seeing this girl and her baby daddy came after him with a pipe. He retaliated with a machete and was actually bragging about getting off scott-free.
This would be the point where I said a silent “thank the Lord” for things having worked out the way they did.
Looking back I remember being disappointed that we never had a second date. When we met I was in the middle of transitioning and after our date I cut my hair off in the spring. I told him about it and sent him a pic and never heard from him after that. Well that’s not entirely true, he did tell me that I should have known what I was doing when I decided to chop all my hair off. Then I didn’t hear from him again.
Until now. He wrapped up the convo telling me to be careful dealing with Baltimore dudes and to—get this—“live long and prosper.” Who says that?
I JUST had one of those moments, with a Random Negro. (Were you really expecting it to be anyone else?)
Let’s call him Conspiracy Theory. We met sometime around last winter, maybe around February or so. We had one date. I remember we met up somewhere downtown DC and he was late as hell. I chewed him out about it and he was like we don’t have to do this but I really want to because you’re cute.
I melted. I should have reactivated the icebox where my heart used to be.
He spent most of the time talking about his ex and that 2012 doomsday/conspiracy theory stuff. At the time I’d never heard of it and I just thought he was cuckoo for cocoa puffs. I’m still not buying it. Maybe I’ll ask my local congressman to start a task force to edumacate me.
Anyway I’m taking entirely too long to get to the point. He contacted me on yahoo messenger, asked how I’ve been, yada yada yada. I told him I moved to Baltimore and am in a relationship now. He congratulated me and then told me that love wasn’t for him.
I asked why and he said that he just got played recently and ended up in the hospital. Apparently he was seeing this girl and her baby daddy came after him with a pipe. He retaliated with a machete and was actually bragging about getting off scott-free.
This would be the point where I said a silent “thank the Lord” for things having worked out the way they did.
Looking back I remember being disappointed that we never had a second date. When we met I was in the middle of transitioning and after our date I cut my hair off in the spring. I told him about it and sent him a pic and never heard from him after that. Well that’s not entirely true, he did tell me that I should have known what I was doing when I decided to chop all my hair off. Then I didn’t hear from him again.
Until now. He wrapped up the convo telling me to be careful dealing with Baltimore dudes and to—get this—“live long and prosper.” Who says that?
Monday, May 11, 2009
Random Negro Stories File: The Gawker
Hey Peoples! I'm falling back in love with my blog so you guys get a new story. Yay!
I thought that my booedupdom would mean the beginning of the end of the Random Negro Stories File, but I now realize that as long as I am a woman I will continue to encounter random Negroes. This is great! Well at least for the blog.
Anyway, so Friday I inadvertently ended up kicking it with my BF (who will from now on be called The Boy) and his friends. We were just supposed to kick it for a minute after I got off work and then he’d take me home before going to go hang out with the boys.
We ended up doing all this running around and by the time we got around to getting something to eat it was too late for him to take me home before heading to the movies with his friends. Sadly KFC was the healthiest fast food option and we had to bypass one because the line was off the chain. I blame Oprah and her damn free chicken coupons.
Finally, after picking up two of his friends and making a pit stop to his house and the bank, we make it to the movies. He introduces me to the friends I hadn’t met previously and we settle into our seats.
After the movie one of his friends, who we’ll call The Gawker, is all like I can’t believe The Boy has a girlfriend. He’s like I’ve got to take a picture, because no one is going to believe this. So he pulls out his camera phone and The Boy and I pose for a picture. A little later we’re walking back towards our cars and The Gawker says out of nowhere—and all out loud—“And she got body.”
I, equally as loud say, “Wooooooow. Really.” The Boy, who was at my side gets behind me and says, “Stop looking at my girlfriends ass.”
I was stunned. Like really, not only are you ogling your friend’s girlfriend but you do it out loud—not only in earshot of your boy, but his girl too. I need y’all to weigh in on this. I hope in the 25 subscribers to this here blog, some of y’all are men. Help me out here. Aren’t there Man Laws against this? If not, let’s get my local Congressman to work on this.
I thought that my booedupdom would mean the beginning of the end of the Random Negro Stories File, but I now realize that as long as I am a woman I will continue to encounter random Negroes. This is great! Well at least for the blog.
Anyway, so Friday I inadvertently ended up kicking it with my BF (who will from now on be called The Boy) and his friends. We were just supposed to kick it for a minute after I got off work and then he’d take me home before going to go hang out with the boys.
We ended up doing all this running around and by the time we got around to getting something to eat it was too late for him to take me home before heading to the movies with his friends. Sadly KFC was the healthiest fast food option and we had to bypass one because the line was off the chain. I blame Oprah and her damn free chicken coupons.
Finally, after picking up two of his friends and making a pit stop to his house and the bank, we make it to the movies. He introduces me to the friends I hadn’t met previously and we settle into our seats.
After the movie one of his friends, who we’ll call The Gawker, is all like I can’t believe The Boy has a girlfriend. He’s like I’ve got to take a picture, because no one is going to believe this. So he pulls out his camera phone and The Boy and I pose for a picture. A little later we’re walking back towards our cars and The Gawker says out of nowhere—and all out loud—“And she got body.”
I, equally as loud say, “Wooooooow. Really.” The Boy, who was at my side gets behind me and says, “Stop looking at my girlfriends ass.”
I was stunned. Like really, not only are you ogling your friend’s girlfriend but you do it out loud—not only in earshot of your boy, but his girl too. I need y’all to weigh in on this. I hope in the 25 subscribers to this here blog, some of y’all are men. Help me out here. Aren’t there Man Laws against this? If not, let’s get my local Congressman to work on this.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Random Negro Stories File: Samson Strikes Back
Two blogs in two days. I know you guys are like super shocked, but I just had to come back and update you guys on the Samson situation.
So it turns out that I jumped the gun in naming my previous post “Samson’s Last Request.” I probably should have checked my myspace messages before I posted the blog, but I don’t really be on there like that anymore.
But here’s what I discovered when I logged in this morning (from Samson of course) typos and all:
It was nice talking to you yesterday. To bad we couldn't be friends but I'm glad you finally found that one man that you're on the same page with.
I wish it could have been me but I'm not a hatter just a congratulater so you're still cool peoples with me. Let me know when you have a get together so I can finally meet the man that got on the same page as you since it was impossible for me.
;o)
I guess what they say is true there is someone out here for everyone. Well I'm still single so I guess I'll run into that someone for me someday until then if you have any friends or associates that you think would click with me, then let me know. Hook a brother up.
I, for the life of me can’t understand why he’s so hell bent on meeting my BF. I talked to my trusty male adviser about it, and he said there were a few things going on:
a. he’s trying to say my expectations were too high, and he wants to stick around for when we break up
b. he’s looking for chinks in the armor, of my “perfect” dude
c. he thinks if he can keep me talking then all is not lost
Even thoough, I didn’t respond to that message I’m not sure that’s the last I’ll hear from dude. My male adviser tells me, dudes have no time limits. I wonder if my local Congressman would favor instituting a statute of limitations for these types of things. I’ll ask.
So it turns out that I jumped the gun in naming my previous post “Samson’s Last Request.” I probably should have checked my myspace messages before I posted the blog, but I don’t really be on there like that anymore.
But here’s what I discovered when I logged in this morning (from Samson of course) typos and all:
It was nice talking to you yesterday. To bad we couldn't be friends but I'm glad you finally found that one man that you're on the same page with.
I wish it could have been me but I'm not a hatter just a congratulater so you're still cool peoples with me. Let me know when you have a get together so I can finally meet the man that got on the same page as you since it was impossible for me.
;o)
I guess what they say is true there is someone out here for everyone. Well I'm still single so I guess I'll run into that someone for me someday until then if you have any friends or associates that you think would click with me, then let me know. Hook a brother up.
I, for the life of me can’t understand why he’s so hell bent on meeting my BF. I talked to my trusty male adviser about it, and he said there were a few things going on:
a. he’s trying to say my expectations were too high, and he wants to stick around for when we break up
b. he’s looking for chinks in the armor, of my “perfect” dude
c. he thinks if he can keep me talking then all is not lost
Even thoough, I didn’t respond to that message I’m not sure that’s the last I’ll hear from dude. My male adviser tells me, dudes have no time limits. I wonder if my local Congressman would favor instituting a statute of limitations for these types of things. I’ll ask.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Random Negro Stories File: Samson's Last Request
Hey peoples. I know it’s been a looooooong time. But the Random Negro Stories have been on hiatus because well, I’m booed up. Yes, officially. And it’s not even Winter Bun Season. Go me!
But guess what?!? I got one hot off the presses for y’all.
So yesterday I was on myspace on my phone, trying to figure out if I could update my relationships status without effing my profile up. I did not succeed, so I take a look at my inbox and see what’s been going on.
Right at the top is a message from DRUMROLL PLEASE, Samson!
Yes! I could have sworn the last time we exchanged messages on there that I told him it wasn’t a good idea to try to force a friendship. He is the most persistent man I have ever encountered in my life.
For whatever reason (shits and giggles mostly) I write him back. Nothing special. Just say that I’ve been good and ask the same of him.
Then if that weren’t enough, why do I run into this bamma on the train!
So of course he bombards me with a whole bunch more questions: do I still live in the same place, am I still working two jobs, how’s my car situation going, and of course the question of all questions—have you found that man that’s on your level yet?
I answer that last one in the affirmative and he’s all like I need to meet this dude. WTF? Dude we are not friends. Why would I even consider that proposition? How am I supposed to explain that to the BF? What the hell do you say? “Yeah honey, this dude that was trying to holla at me for the longest wants to meet you. Maybe we can do brunch?” He must think I’m a damn fool. Maybe his braids (yes he still has them joints—and he’s 30) were too tight. I’m gonna ask my local Congressman to get some laws in place to fine men over the age of 22 who are still wearing cornrows. Hell I might ask him to take it further and fine any stylists caught braiding them up.
Anyway, I just laugh him off and go wait for my bus home.
But guess what?!? I got one hot off the presses for y’all.
So yesterday I was on myspace on my phone, trying to figure out if I could update my relationships status without effing my profile up. I did not succeed, so I take a look at my inbox and see what’s been going on.
Right at the top is a message from DRUMROLL PLEASE, Samson!
Yes! I could have sworn the last time we exchanged messages on there that I told him it wasn’t a good idea to try to force a friendship. He is the most persistent man I have ever encountered in my life.
For whatever reason (shits and giggles mostly) I write him back. Nothing special. Just say that I’ve been good and ask the same of him.
Then if that weren’t enough, why do I run into this bamma on the train!
So of course he bombards me with a whole bunch more questions: do I still live in the same place, am I still working two jobs, how’s my car situation going, and of course the question of all questions—have you found that man that’s on your level yet?
I answer that last one in the affirmative and he’s all like I need to meet this dude. WTF? Dude we are not friends. Why would I even consider that proposition? How am I supposed to explain that to the BF? What the hell do you say? “Yeah honey, this dude that was trying to holla at me for the longest wants to meet you. Maybe we can do brunch?” He must think I’m a damn fool. Maybe his braids (yes he still has them joints—and he’s 30) were too tight. I’m gonna ask my local Congressman to get some laws in place to fine men over the age of 22 who are still wearing cornrows. Hell I might ask him to take it further and fine any stylists caught braiding them up.
Anyway, I just laugh him off and go wait for my bus home.
Monday, March 30, 2009
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!
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!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Random Negro Stories File: No Paparazzi
Hey peoples! I'm back with yet another Random Negro Story. (When will these things end?) So Saturday night I went to this lounge to celebrate a friend's birthday. It was pretty cool. The party was in the VIP section so my friend and I kicked it up there drank a little, danced a lot and were having a really good time. All the guys there for the birthday party came with their gfs/wifeys so I went into the crowd in search of some unattached (or seemingly so) men and dragged my girl along with me.
So we're on the dance floor and I strike up a convo with this guy and start dancing with him when all of a sudden I see a flash. So I look around for the "club photographer" but he or she is not in the vicinity, but there is this guy, who we'll call The Cameraman, with a regular ass digital camera pointed in my direction. So I stop dancing with the guy for a moment and ask The Cameraman if he just took my picture. He said yes and shows me the picture. Thankfully I had turned my head and all he got was my hair.
I don't understand people who take random pictures of people at the club. I mean it would have been one thing if he talked to me or danced with me before trying to take my picture. But to just point and shoot without even having acknowledged my presence--that's crazy. And even after he showed me the picture he didn't attempt to strike up any conversation. He just wanted my picture. For what? I don't even want to think about it. Club photos are fine when you want to remember/realize what that guy/girl you were grinding all up on really looked like after the aaaa...aaa...aa....aaa....aaaaacohol--as Jamie would say has worn off.
But clearly that was not the case here. He was probably going to have my likeness plastered all over the Internet somewhere. Sure he probably thought I was attractive, but I am not a public figure or celebrity. (Although I'm on my way! Ya girl was on MSNBC last week doing the pundit thing about the Madoff ponzi scheme! Still can't find the clip though *sad face*) You don't get to just take pictures of me without my consent or at the very least my awareness. (Dang, at least give me a chance to flash my million dollar smile) There must be some rules on this. I need to check with my local Congressman about that.
But back to the story. I went back to dancing with other guy, and I look up and The Cameraman is again trying to take my picture. So I put my hand up to block my face. So I turn to the guy I was dancing and I'm like why is he trying to take my picture? He says to me, "That's what you call a fan." And I'm all like but I'm dancing with you. And he says well he likes what he sees and I can't say that I blame him. Way to sneak a compliment in. I did end up giving that guy my number and he sent me a text at 3 a.m. asking where I live. I didn't get the text until Sunday morning, but it matters not anyway. I'm done with the random hookups. 2009 is a new year! Yay me!
In other news, No Love in '08, sent me a text the other day so I ask him how his wedding plans are going and he said "They're not yet. she has some issues to work on before that happens." A minute later he adds "Minor adjustments." I write back "minor adjustments?" He says "yep" and doesn't elaborate. He asks me about my love life and I say I'm dating and weighing my options. Then I ask him how he decided to take the plunge, but that question got no response.
The whole thing sounds weird to me. First, why are you texting me? We are not friends. I never wanted to just be your friend, so I don't understand this out of the blue texting. When I get engaged, the last thing I'm gonna to be doing is texting some dude it didn't work out with. For what? I'm going to be too wrapped up in my boo to be worried about catching up with that whack guy--and I'm going to be even less concerned about the state of his love life.
Second, shouldn't the "minor adjustments" have been worked out before you decided to propose? I'm pretty sure whatever it was didn't just pop up after he showed up with a ring. The only minor adjustments I want to have to make after I get engaged are cosmetic. Like how much weight do I have to lose to get into the wedding dress of my dreams type stuff.
I do wonder why he decided not to answer my question about how he decided to take the plunge. I wonder if it means that he really doesn't have an answer. Or maybe he just feels like he doesn't have to explain himself to me. The world may never know.
So we're on the dance floor and I strike up a convo with this guy and start dancing with him when all of a sudden I see a flash. So I look around for the "club photographer" but he or she is not in the vicinity, but there is this guy, who we'll call The Cameraman, with a regular ass digital camera pointed in my direction. So I stop dancing with the guy for a moment and ask The Cameraman if he just took my picture. He said yes and shows me the picture. Thankfully I had turned my head and all he got was my hair.
I don't understand people who take random pictures of people at the club. I mean it would have been one thing if he talked to me or danced with me before trying to take my picture. But to just point and shoot without even having acknowledged my presence--that's crazy. And even after he showed me the picture he didn't attempt to strike up any conversation. He just wanted my picture. For what? I don't even want to think about it. Club photos are fine when you want to remember/realize what that guy/girl you were grinding all up on really looked like after the aaaa...aaa...aa....aaa....aaaaacohol--as Jamie would say has worn off.
But clearly that was not the case here. He was probably going to have my likeness plastered all over the Internet somewhere. Sure he probably thought I was attractive, but I am not a public figure or celebrity. (Although I'm on my way! Ya girl was on MSNBC last week doing the pundit thing about the Madoff ponzi scheme! Still can't find the clip though *sad face*) You don't get to just take pictures of me without my consent or at the very least my awareness. (Dang, at least give me a chance to flash my million dollar smile) There must be some rules on this. I need to check with my local Congressman about that.
But back to the story. I went back to dancing with other guy, and I look up and The Cameraman is again trying to take my picture. So I put my hand up to block my face. So I turn to the guy I was dancing and I'm like why is he trying to take my picture? He says to me, "That's what you call a fan." And I'm all like but I'm dancing with you. And he says well he likes what he sees and I can't say that I blame him. Way to sneak a compliment in. I did end up giving that guy my number and he sent me a text at 3 a.m. asking where I live. I didn't get the text until Sunday morning, but it matters not anyway. I'm done with the random hookups. 2009 is a new year! Yay me!
In other news, No Love in '08, sent me a text the other day so I ask him how his wedding plans are going and he said "They're not yet. she has some issues to work on before that happens." A minute later he adds "Minor adjustments." I write back "minor adjustments?" He says "yep" and doesn't elaborate. He asks me about my love life and I say I'm dating and weighing my options. Then I ask him how he decided to take the plunge, but that question got no response.
The whole thing sounds weird to me. First, why are you texting me? We are not friends. I never wanted to just be your friend, so I don't understand this out of the blue texting. When I get engaged, the last thing I'm gonna to be doing is texting some dude it didn't work out with. For what? I'm going to be too wrapped up in my boo to be worried about catching up with that whack guy--and I'm going to be even less concerned about the state of his love life.
Second, shouldn't the "minor adjustments" have been worked out before you decided to propose? I'm pretty sure whatever it was didn't just pop up after he showed up with a ring. The only minor adjustments I want to have to make after I get engaged are cosmetic. Like how much weight do I have to lose to get into the wedding dress of my dreams type stuff.
I do wonder why he decided not to answer my question about how he decided to take the plunge. I wonder if it means that he really doesn't have an answer. Or maybe he just feels like he doesn't have to explain himself to me. The world may never know.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
At the Polls/Weekend in Review
Hey Blog Fam. I’m going to interrupt the regularly scheduled Take ‘em Back Tuesday to tell y’all all about my voting experience this morning.
Since I’m motor vehicularly challenged, I waited until the sun came up to walk to my polling place. It’s like around the corner from my house and I figured that even if I had to wait a while I wouldn’t complain because I was just going to go back home and get in the bed anyway. Still I wasn’t quite prepared to see the line wrapped around a part of the parking lot of the community services center that I didn’t even know existed. Folks were out there deep! Shout out to my local Congressman for getting early voting on the ballot. I hope people vote in favor of that joint so that I can choose when I want to vote next time. Still, if voting for Barack weren’t incentive enough then the folks at my polling place made my two-hour wait worth every second!
There were the “entrepreneurs” taking advantage of the captive audience. One man was out selling Obama t-shirts. One had “him” (and I say that loosely because whoever drew the template either can’t draw or confused Obama with Samuel L. Jackson) with a basketball in hand making a slam dunk. The other shirt he was showcasing had “Obama” in Tom Cruise stealth mode and it read Mission Possible. But the thing that got me was he was wearing a jacket with Obama’s rising sun symbol emblazoned with red, white and blue rhinestones. Black folks love them some rhinestones. That thing had more rhinestones than a Kimora Lee Simmons runway collection. Then there was this kid, who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, walking around trying to rent this folding chair, a dollar for 15 minutes. Errrybody got a hustle. I wasn’t even mad at him. I didn’t give him no dollar, but I respected his gangsta. But I can’t lie the EBP in me made me cringe at the thought of being the mother of that child.
Then of course there were the bad ass kids that make you want to take two birth control pills, the shot and double up on the condoms before having sex. One little boy was swinging around one of those metal parking signs and busted his head. He was trying to act all hard like he wasn’t hurt but he stood his ass in one place after that. Shortly thereafter this lil girl busted her ass hopping on and off the sidewalk. I love when bad little kids hurt themselves. I be like, “Yes! That’s what you get! Now sit your lil bad ass down!”
Then there was the political banter about the candidates. How even though he was ahead in the polls Obama had to campaign like he was underdog. One lady was like despite the fact that he was raised by white women and went to all the “right” schools he’s still a black man. One-drop rule.
And as we made it inside the building folks were getting off their cell phones talking about, “Girl I gotta get off this phone. I’m not trying to jam up the machines. I want my vote to count!”
I love it. I hope everyone did their civic duty and went out and voted. If not take the time to do it and maybe you’ll get a few stories out of the experience.
On to my weekend. I spent more time with The Bison. He’s quickly becoming a “part” of my life. Thursday we did a late happy hour at Fridays and on Halloween we went party hopping. I was Lady Elvis. He’s not the dress up type so the most I could get him to do was to put on a black suit and be my “security.” LOL.
Here’s a couple of pics.
Saturday after we went to work he picked me up, we went to Macy’s. (He didn’t even mind pouring over the MAC counter with me), got some soul food at this place on U Street called Ooohs and Aaahs, and saw Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Hilarious! A must see I tell you! Sunday we lazed around my house. I made breakfast and we watched Friday. I had forgotten how much I like that movie. “I’m just gonna tuck mine in.” LOL.
And of course what would my weekend be without a couple Random Negro Stories. I was working from home on Friday waiting for the gas company to rectify my situation, when I logged into yahoo and was greeted by this message from Friendship and Fun:
I chatted with him for a while and he tells me that he’s interviewing for some jobs in D.C. and basically asked to crash with me for a while—talking about he wants to help me pay my rent. I’m like ummm no.
Then The Mason performed the reappearing portion of his disappearing act, trying to ask me out on date. I told him I already had plans and that he should have hit me up earlier in the week because a lady needs three days notice. He complained about the new “rules” and I told him that he—being a Republican and all—didn’t do too well in the free market and now it’s time to abide by the regulations. I told him that if history were any guide there would be a time for deregulation. But honestly I seriously doubt if I ever see him again. He’s too flaky and even if he weren’t I know he wouldn’t be what The Bison is—a true gentleman, opening doors, helping me with my coat, and taking out my trash, kissing me and randomly telling me I’m beautiful. Ok. Let me stop before this gets too mushy. What am I turning into?????
Since I’m motor vehicularly challenged, I waited until the sun came up to walk to my polling place. It’s like around the corner from my house and I figured that even if I had to wait a while I wouldn’t complain because I was just going to go back home and get in the bed anyway. Still I wasn’t quite prepared to see the line wrapped around a part of the parking lot of the community services center that I didn’t even know existed. Folks were out there deep! Shout out to my local Congressman for getting early voting on the ballot. I hope people vote in favor of that joint so that I can choose when I want to vote next time. Still, if voting for Barack weren’t incentive enough then the folks at my polling place made my two-hour wait worth every second!
There were the “entrepreneurs” taking advantage of the captive audience. One man was out selling Obama t-shirts. One had “him” (and I say that loosely because whoever drew the template either can’t draw or confused Obama with Samuel L. Jackson) with a basketball in hand making a slam dunk. The other shirt he was showcasing had “Obama” in Tom Cruise stealth mode and it read Mission Possible. But the thing that got me was he was wearing a jacket with Obama’s rising sun symbol emblazoned with red, white and blue rhinestones. Black folks love them some rhinestones. That thing had more rhinestones than a Kimora Lee Simmons runway collection. Then there was this kid, who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, walking around trying to rent this folding chair, a dollar for 15 minutes. Errrybody got a hustle. I wasn’t even mad at him. I didn’t give him no dollar, but I respected his gangsta. But I can’t lie the EBP in me made me cringe at the thought of being the mother of that child.
Then of course there were the bad ass kids that make you want to take two birth control pills, the shot and double up on the condoms before having sex. One little boy was swinging around one of those metal parking signs and busted his head. He was trying to act all hard like he wasn’t hurt but he stood his ass in one place after that. Shortly thereafter this lil girl busted her ass hopping on and off the sidewalk. I love when bad little kids hurt themselves. I be like, “Yes! That’s what you get! Now sit your lil bad ass down!”
Then there was the political banter about the candidates. How even though he was ahead in the polls Obama had to campaign like he was underdog. One lady was like despite the fact that he was raised by white women and went to all the “right” schools he’s still a black man. One-drop rule.
And as we made it inside the building folks were getting off their cell phones talking about, “Girl I gotta get off this phone. I’m not trying to jam up the machines. I want my vote to count!”
I love it. I hope everyone did their civic duty and went out and voted. If not take the time to do it and maybe you’ll get a few stories out of the experience.
On to my weekend. I spent more time with The Bison. He’s quickly becoming a “part” of my life. Thursday we did a late happy hour at Fridays and on Halloween we went party hopping. I was Lady Elvis. He’s not the dress up type so the most I could get him to do was to put on a black suit and be my “security.” LOL.
Here’s a couple of pics.
Saturday after we went to work he picked me up, we went to Macy’s. (He didn’t even mind pouring over the MAC counter with me), got some soul food at this place on U Street called Ooohs and Aaahs, and saw Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Hilarious! A must see I tell you! Sunday we lazed around my house. I made breakfast and we watched Friday. I had forgotten how much I like that movie. “I’m just gonna tuck mine in.” LOL.
And of course what would my weekend be without a couple Random Negro Stories. I was working from home on Friday waiting for the gas company to rectify my situation, when I logged into yahoo and was greeted by this message from Friendship and Fun:
ending one love
one warm hug
one prayer full of...
a solicitation for the emancipation
of the dreams you have on reservation
I wish God upon you
You've been patient
Today's the end of your waiting
Arise and be who you were created to be
Let's begin your celebration
This is me
lending myself
lending tears for life's cries
understanding for life's whys
comfort for life’s sighs
for hugs, I’m lending arms and shoulders
giving the muscles in between to help you with life's boulders
sending warmth when hearts around seem to get quite colder
you can borrow my legs when u need someone to run with you
We can serve together, I'll use my gifts too
when down, I'll lift you
there's nothing we can't get to
and sift though
This is me... always with you
one warm hug
one prayer full of...
a solicitation for the emancipation
of the dreams you have on reservation
I wish God upon you
You've been patient
Today's the end of your waiting
Arise and be who you were created to be
Let's begin your celebration
This is me
lending myself
lending tears for life's cries
understanding for life's whys
comfort for life’s sighs
for hugs, I’m lending arms and shoulders
giving the muscles in between to help you with life's boulders
sending warmth when hearts around seem to get quite colder
you can borrow my legs when u need someone to run with you
We can serve together, I'll use my gifts too
when down, I'll lift you
there's nothing we can't get to
and sift though
This is me... always with you
I chatted with him for a while and he tells me that he’s interviewing for some jobs in D.C. and basically asked to crash with me for a while—talking about he wants to help me pay my rent. I’m like ummm no.
Then The Mason performed the reappearing portion of his disappearing act, trying to ask me out on date. I told him I already had plans and that he should have hit me up earlier in the week because a lady needs three days notice. He complained about the new “rules” and I told him that he—being a Republican and all—didn’t do too well in the free market and now it’s time to abide by the regulations. I told him that if history were any guide there would be a time for deregulation. But honestly I seriously doubt if I ever see him again. He’s too flaky and even if he weren’t I know he wouldn’t be what The Bison is—a true gentleman, opening doors, helping me with my coat, and taking out my trash, kissing me and randomly telling me I’m beautiful. Ok. Let me stop before this gets too mushy. What am I turning into?????
Friday, October 24, 2008
Random Negro Stories File: Dirty Old Man With a Cause
Hey peoples. Sorry for my MIAness. Life got in the way of blogging, but I have a few moments and a story that I must must must share with you guys.
This afternoon I was walking to my office from the Hill and I pass by this old man. Because my luck would have it he swoops in from the corner up to me and says, “My my my, the gates of heaven must have opened up and let you right on out.”
Amused by his compliment I smile and say, “Apparently.” I tried quickening my pace to lose him, but he keeps up with me and keeps going on about how I’m such a beautiful woman and what not. Then he starts talking about this newspaper created to give homeless men a way to make money other than just begging on the street. I look up and notice his “Street Sense” badge. Oh so that’s what this was about. This bamma was sweet talking me to get me to give him some change. He’s like anything you can give to help is fine. I mean it’s a really good skit. They get some money, you get a tangible product. It’s win-win. I’ll encourage my local Congressman to get this going in Maryland.
I reach in my bag and give him a dollar and try to move on my merry way, but he’s not done with me. He’s like, “One more thing can I take you out later tonight for a piece of chicken?” *Insert Record Scratch* Something to keep in mind: these Street Sense vendors are homeless people, not just the volunteers helping them out, but the homeless people themselves! According to their website, “The vendors make an average of $40 a day, and some have even been able to use this money to move out of the shelter.” So I guess he can afford the chicken, but still! I don’t know how I feel about getting hit on by homeless men.
Being polite I said no thank you I already have plans tonight. (I do! Supposedly going on a date to see the new Saw movie.) Why did this man say, “That’s ok. I’ll bring him a piece of chicken too!” What in ham sandwich?!? I laughed and walked away and he finally moved on probably to his next customer/potential date.
This afternoon I was walking to my office from the Hill and I pass by this old man. Because my luck would have it he swoops in from the corner up to me and says, “My my my, the gates of heaven must have opened up and let you right on out.”
Amused by his compliment I smile and say, “Apparently.” I tried quickening my pace to lose him, but he keeps up with me and keeps going on about how I’m such a beautiful woman and what not. Then he starts talking about this newspaper created to give homeless men a way to make money other than just begging on the street. I look up and notice his “Street Sense” badge. Oh so that’s what this was about. This bamma was sweet talking me to get me to give him some change. He’s like anything you can give to help is fine. I mean it’s a really good skit. They get some money, you get a tangible product. It’s win-win. I’ll encourage my local Congressman to get this going in Maryland.
I reach in my bag and give him a dollar and try to move on my merry way, but he’s not done with me. He’s like, “One more thing can I take you out later tonight for a piece of chicken?” *Insert Record Scratch* Something to keep in mind: these Street Sense vendors are homeless people, not just the volunteers helping them out, but the homeless people themselves! According to their website, “The vendors make an average of $40 a day, and some have even been able to use this money to move out of the shelter.” So I guess he can afford the chicken, but still! I don’t know how I feel about getting hit on by homeless men.
Being polite I said no thank you I already have plans tonight. (I do! Supposedly going on a date to see the new Saw movie.) Why did this man say, “That’s ok. I’ll bring him a piece of chicken too!” What in ham sandwich?!? I laughed and walked away and he finally moved on probably to his next customer/potential date.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Weekend In Review/Random Negro Stories File: Homecoming Winning Weekend
Oh my. Where do I start? So many stories to share from this weekend! Are you ready? My apologies in advance for this thesis length post, but this is gonna be a good one! I promise.
Thursday night my friends and I had a girl’s night in with Hooters Wings, Sweet Potato Pie, French Vanilla Ice Cream, and a wide array of white liquors. We laughed it up, shared war stories and love stories. Good times. We hadn’t gotten together like that since my friend’s baby shower last July.
Sobering up Friday morning we got dressed and headed to Howard’s campus for Yardfest. I didn’t pay much attention to the musical acts, but it was nice to be out and about and see old friends and take pictures and eat fried fish and chicken wings. We visited our Journalism mentors and ate up mass amounts of free chicken at this reception hosted by the School of Communications.
Friday night was the big Diddy party at Love and where my interesting Random Negro Stories File begins.
One of my random negroes, No Love In ’08, resurfaced. He texted me asking what I was getting into for the night and I tell him and he says he’ll be there too and maybe he’ll see me. Several shots of Patron and the fact that I probably still haven’t gotten over him had me feeling all nostalgic so I replied that it would be nice. Mistake number one.
So we got all dolled up and rolled out with liquor in car to pre-game. So we pull into the club’s parking lot and notice that two cars full of dudes on either side of us were doing the same. Already having downed several shots of Patron I roll down my passenger side window and start asking what they were sipping on. They answer Ciroc and we start making jokes about how this economy has gainfully employed folks drinking in the car. (Free drinks in the club are getting more and more scarce these days. I think I’ll thank my local Congressman for that. He better hope that SuperBailout Fund works and things get back to normal!) Anyway we end up chatting with the guys in the car on the driver’s side. One guy preemptively laid his claim on one of my girls. We were like dang already we haven’t even made it out the car yet.
Once inside danced around and I swear the music activated my buzz because I wasn’t feeling anything before that. Maybe I’m just becoming a lush. No Love In ’08 texts me and after I while I find him on the dance floor on the second level. We dance for a bit but he kinda moves on but is still hovering in the area. Meanwhile other dudes start dancing with me and he takes it upon himself to start dancing with my friend. I got a lil jealous and started putting on a show with whatever random negro was behind me. I was putting in some serious work. He does the same with my friend. So there we are eyeing each other up going tit for tat with our dance partners. Eventually we get back to dancing with each other and then end up moving on once my friends were ready to check out what was going on in the rest of the club.
So up we went. The third floor was pretty cool. We moved to this “outside” area and danced. I got a Bonecrusher and after I finished my drink I got back to dancing. I ended up dancing with some dude. He offered to buy me a drink so we headed back to the bar but it took so long to get the bartender’s attention that he just ended up handing me some money and took off to find his friends or whatever. I didn’t particularly care. I already had my free drink money in hand so I got some Ciroc to see what everybody has been raving all about. I asked the bartender to mix it with Pineapple. To tell the truth I don’t know if I just got a bad drink or something, but I really wasn’t that impressed with it. Glancing across the bar I noticed this dude that I had a crush on freshman year. We made eye contact so I tipped my drink up to him and he did the same. He was still cute but he looked bammafied to me. He had on one of those puffy vests (probably a North Face) with a long sleeved button up.
After Free Drink Dude rolled out I ended up dancing with this other dude who I later discovered I went to school with. (Duh it was a Homecoming party!) Anyway we’ll call him The Bison. He seemed nice enough so we exchanged numbers. After he left my friends and I finally made it up to the fourth floor where I ran into more people I knew. My friend was texting this guy she wanted to meet up with but en route we ran into one of her old hoes. Trying to run interference for her I ended up getting half molested on the dance floor. But tell me why once we got up there the dude text her back and said he went back downstairs. WTF. So back down we went. All the way to the first level.
I ran back into No Love In ’08. We hugged and started talking. He ends up inviting me back to his place, but the conversation took a nosedive. Somehow we started rehashing ancient history (from him almost becoming my baby daddy to the revelation that nothing was going to happen between us in 2008—hence his nick name—to him telling me that he’s no longer with the girl he chose to be with instead of me, but now talking to someone else—still not me.) I had this Grey’s Anatomy moment where I’m basically drunkenly asking him to choose me. He doesn't. I'm tearing up at this point and he wants a chance to explain later that so much had happened and it was because we lost touch and that I have bad timing. I asked him what was I really supposed to do given that he told me that nothing was going to happen between us this year. I'm quasi yelling, "It's still 2008." He said if the shoe were on the other foot he would have stayed in touch because he wanted my friendship. I swear that's code for lemme keep you on the sidelines just in case I need to make a substitution. I don't want that. I ended up walking away and back to a guy friend who consoles me for a moment. We leave the club and I go to bed disheartened.
Luckily I bounce back quickly. Or at least pretend to. What about the football? Oh yea that. Howard lost of course—at least it was in double overtime though. A little before I got on the Yard to watch the game Saturday afternoon The Bison sent me a text telling me how he met me at Love and wanted to know if I was just in town for the weekend or if I live in the area. I tell him I live here and he tells me that he lives in Hyattsville. He suggests getting together on Sunday to hang out since we both had plans for Saturday night. I agree, but of course because he's a young Alumni I ended up running into him at the Yacht Party that night. I was doing a quick scan of the room when I end up bumping right into him. He hugs me for a long time and then we start dancing. He's like girl I'm so gone right now. You need to be gone like me. So I say, "Well get me gone" and we head to the bar. He buys me a Bonecrusher Leaning in close to me he says, "I was hoping your sexy ass would be here tonight." We danced for a bit and afterwards he tells me he'll catch up with me later and I go back in search of my friends. I make it to the second level of the boat where most people were, so I dance around and run into people.
Like an hour before the boat was supposed to go back to the dock The Bison and I have this drunken text exchange (complete with ignorant slang and typographical errors for your enjoyment).
The Bison: I am gone.
Me: I'm done son.
The Bison: Me too lol.
Me: wheer r u
The Bison: outside the second floor of the boat.
Me: Come back in.
The Bison: I can't lol. I'm done. come home with me and i'll take you home in the morning
Me: If I can find u
The Bison: I'm on the 2nd floor of the boat
The Bison: outside
Me: Outsside too
Despite this clearly drunken exchange I do end up finding him and going back to his place with him. He shuttles his friends back to their cars and we head out to his spot. We get there and bammas are up like it's 4 o'clock in the afternoon rather than 4 o'clock in the morning. One of them is walking around with half a chicken in his hand and offers me some. I decline and he's like, "I made it before I was drunk so it's good." I'll take your word for it playa.
The Bison shows me to his room only to discover there are no sheets on the bed. So he starts yelling at his roommates about where his sheets went. One yells back they're in the dirty clothes. He starts dropping all kinds of F bombs like, “Like what the fuck. Where the fuck are my sheets dog.” He finds a pillow and throws it on the bed and goes back out the room—in search of sheets I guess. I start to curl up on the bed but then I start smelling something rank. I start to move around but this rancid smell is still invading my nostrils so I open my eyes and start looking around. I get up from the bed when I figure out where the smell is coming from. Dude has still not come back to the room, so I yell to him, umm I think someone threw up in your bed. He runs back to the room like are you serious? He looks and sees that indeed someone has regurgitated only God knows what onto his bed. More F Bombs. He figures out which roommate upchucked all in his space. The bathroom is across from The Bison’s bedroom so he’s still yelling, “What the fuck, did you mistake my room for the bathroom?”
He gave up and we go back into the living room. He shifts gears and then starts yelling at him to give up his sheets. The roommate is like is it for her or for you. He’s like for her and her and he comes out with some comforter. I’m dumbfounded that any of this is actually happening. I mean I really thought I was in an alternate universe but then I remember who I am and figured that if this was going to happen to anyone it would indeed happen to me. We end up moving to the couch but the roommate—still wide awake—has brought out his laptop and is surfing the net I guess at like almost 5 a.m. I end up falling asleep and when I woke up sometime around 9 a.m. the roommate is in the exact place he was when I fell asleep. Sitting at this small ass “dining room” table. I swear it was like a tall coffee table, but what really what really made me lose it was seeing the roommate in a recliner pushed up to the table. Ghetto! I woke up dehydrated of course so I ask dude for some water and he brings it out in a wine goblet. Gotta love bachelor life.
So he starts getting ready and asking me if I’m hungry and suggests getting something to eat and then chilling at my place. I’m like only one problem. I don’t have my keys. I left them at my friend’s house fearing that I’d lose them on the boat. He’s like damn and then finally agrees to just drop me back off at my friend’s place. On the way back we talk and discover that we have friends in common and that we actually could have met a couple weeks earlier at a birthday party I was supposed to go to. He said he still wanted to get up later in the day per our original plan from Saturday afternoon, but he was feeling sick all day and I was just tired from the whole crazy weekend.
If that wasn’t a crazy enough random negro story this is sure to put it over the top. Sunday after riding with my friends to see one off to the airport and the other back to her spot, I get home. I start reconnecting with the online world, checking Facebook, Myspace and instant messaging folks online. I sent a quick message to this one dude I met on this dating site, we’ll call him Esquire. So we’re chit chatting about Colin Powell endorsing Barack Obama but then I shift the conversation to when we’re gonna get together and he starts talking about how things are crazy and he tells me that he ended up going out on a date with some woman he was dating about a year ago and that he actually had a really great time and that he was probably going to see “what was up with that.” He said he didn’t (insert air quotes) know that I wanted to date him. Oh really. Last weekend he was talking about how he wanted to go see W with me, but of course that wasn’t going to work out because of my prior Homecoming engagements.
So I’m thinking to myself are you serious. In the span of one weekend I’m really going to get passed over twice?!? I must have been a horrible person in my past life. So I start thanking him for being honest and not wasting my time and he’s like well I’m sure you’re dating other people anyway. So I’m like I thought you didn’t assume things. He’s like I’m not. So I go well unless you’ve seen me on a date how is that not an assumption? He reveals that some conversations we had about blogging (I told him I was addicted to reading them) got him curious about blogging so he did some research about local blogs and found mine. He put two and two together with my blog name and the job and location. Shit. Not that I necessarily wanted to hide the fact that I’ve been dating, but there’s something about discovering that someone you’re trying to date has information that you didn’t intend for them to have. Well at least not all the sordid details.
He confessed that finding it made him realize that he wouldn’t start one because anyone that he might write about could quite easily stumble upon it and that talking to me became a low priority because he felt like he’d just be added to the mix of men in my life and he’s not looking for that. So my big ass mouth and open ass blog cost me a potential relationship. Now I’m all paranoid about who else might be reading this thing. Oh well I’ll keep searching. But maybe I should restrict my Random Negro Stories File entries to foolishness so far in the past it won’t have any impact on my current love life. Or maybe it’s time to lock this baby down and only let invited readers into my crazy world.
Thursday night my friends and I had a girl’s night in with Hooters Wings, Sweet Potato Pie, French Vanilla Ice Cream, and a wide array of white liquors. We laughed it up, shared war stories and love stories. Good times. We hadn’t gotten together like that since my friend’s baby shower last July.
Sobering up Friday morning we got dressed and headed to Howard’s campus for Yardfest. I didn’t pay much attention to the musical acts, but it was nice to be out and about and see old friends and take pictures and eat fried fish and chicken wings. We visited our Journalism mentors and ate up mass amounts of free chicken at this reception hosted by the School of Communications.
Friday night was the big Diddy party at Love and where my interesting Random Negro Stories File begins.
One of my random negroes, No Love In ’08, resurfaced. He texted me asking what I was getting into for the night and I tell him and he says he’ll be there too and maybe he’ll see me. Several shots of Patron and the fact that I probably still haven’t gotten over him had me feeling all nostalgic so I replied that it would be nice. Mistake number one.
So we got all dolled up and rolled out with liquor in car to pre-game. So we pull into the club’s parking lot and notice that two cars full of dudes on either side of us were doing the same. Already having downed several shots of Patron I roll down my passenger side window and start asking what they were sipping on. They answer Ciroc and we start making jokes about how this economy has gainfully employed folks drinking in the car. (Free drinks in the club are getting more and more scarce these days. I think I’ll thank my local Congressman for that. He better hope that SuperBailout Fund works and things get back to normal!) Anyway we end up chatting with the guys in the car on the driver’s side. One guy preemptively laid his claim on one of my girls. We were like dang already we haven’t even made it out the car yet.
Once inside danced around and I swear the music activated my buzz because I wasn’t feeling anything before that. Maybe I’m just becoming a lush. No Love In ’08 texts me and after I while I find him on the dance floor on the second level. We dance for a bit but he kinda moves on but is still hovering in the area. Meanwhile other dudes start dancing with me and he takes it upon himself to start dancing with my friend. I got a lil jealous and started putting on a show with whatever random negro was behind me. I was putting in some serious work. He does the same with my friend. So there we are eyeing each other up going tit for tat with our dance partners. Eventually we get back to dancing with each other and then end up moving on once my friends were ready to check out what was going on in the rest of the club.
So up we went. The third floor was pretty cool. We moved to this “outside” area and danced. I got a Bonecrusher and after I finished my drink I got back to dancing. I ended up dancing with some dude. He offered to buy me a drink so we headed back to the bar but it took so long to get the bartender’s attention that he just ended up handing me some money and took off to find his friends or whatever. I didn’t particularly care. I already had my free drink money in hand so I got some Ciroc to see what everybody has been raving all about. I asked the bartender to mix it with Pineapple. To tell the truth I don’t know if I just got a bad drink or something, but I really wasn’t that impressed with it. Glancing across the bar I noticed this dude that I had a crush on freshman year. We made eye contact so I tipped my drink up to him and he did the same. He was still cute but he looked bammafied to me. He had on one of those puffy vests (probably a North Face) with a long sleeved button up.
After Free Drink Dude rolled out I ended up dancing with this other dude who I later discovered I went to school with. (Duh it was a Homecoming party!) Anyway we’ll call him The Bison. He seemed nice enough so we exchanged numbers. After he left my friends and I finally made it up to the fourth floor where I ran into more people I knew. My friend was texting this guy she wanted to meet up with but en route we ran into one of her old hoes. Trying to run interference for her I ended up getting half molested on the dance floor. But tell me why once we got up there the dude text her back and said he went back downstairs. WTF. So back down we went. All the way to the first level.
I ran back into No Love In ’08. We hugged and started talking. He ends up inviting me back to his place, but the conversation took a nosedive. Somehow we started rehashing ancient history (from him almost becoming my baby daddy to the revelation that nothing was going to happen between us in 2008—hence his nick name—to him telling me that he’s no longer with the girl he chose to be with instead of me, but now talking to someone else—still not me.) I had this Grey’s Anatomy moment where I’m basically drunkenly asking him to choose me. He doesn't. I'm tearing up at this point and he wants a chance to explain later that so much had happened and it was because we lost touch and that I have bad timing. I asked him what was I really supposed to do given that he told me that nothing was going to happen between us this year. I'm quasi yelling, "It's still 2008." He said if the shoe were on the other foot he would have stayed in touch because he wanted my friendship. I swear that's code for lemme keep you on the sidelines just in case I need to make a substitution. I don't want that. I ended up walking away and back to a guy friend who consoles me for a moment. We leave the club and I go to bed disheartened.
Luckily I bounce back quickly. Or at least pretend to. What about the football? Oh yea that. Howard lost of course—at least it was in double overtime though. A little before I got on the Yard to watch the game Saturday afternoon The Bison sent me a text telling me how he met me at Love and wanted to know if I was just in town for the weekend or if I live in the area. I tell him I live here and he tells me that he lives in Hyattsville. He suggests getting together on Sunday to hang out since we both had plans for Saturday night. I agree, but of course because he's a young Alumni I ended up running into him at the Yacht Party that night. I was doing a quick scan of the room when I end up bumping right into him. He hugs me for a long time and then we start dancing. He's like girl I'm so gone right now. You need to be gone like me. So I say, "Well get me gone" and we head to the bar. He buys me a Bonecrusher Leaning in close to me he says, "I was hoping your sexy ass would be here tonight." We danced for a bit and afterwards he tells me he'll catch up with me later and I go back in search of my friends. I make it to the second level of the boat where most people were, so I dance around and run into people.
Like an hour before the boat was supposed to go back to the dock The Bison and I have this drunken text exchange (complete with ignorant slang and typographical errors for your enjoyment).
The Bison: I am gone.
Me: I'm done son.
The Bison: Me too lol.
Me: wheer r u
The Bison: outside the second floor of the boat.
Me: Come back in.
The Bison: I can't lol. I'm done. come home with me and i'll take you home in the morning
Me: If I can find u
The Bison: I'm on the 2nd floor of the boat
The Bison: outside
Me: Outsside too
Despite this clearly drunken exchange I do end up finding him and going back to his place with him. He shuttles his friends back to their cars and we head out to his spot. We get there and bammas are up like it's 4 o'clock in the afternoon rather than 4 o'clock in the morning. One of them is walking around with half a chicken in his hand and offers me some. I decline and he's like, "I made it before I was drunk so it's good." I'll take your word for it playa.
The Bison shows me to his room only to discover there are no sheets on the bed. So he starts yelling at his roommates about where his sheets went. One yells back they're in the dirty clothes. He starts dropping all kinds of F bombs like, “Like what the fuck. Where the fuck are my sheets dog.” He finds a pillow and throws it on the bed and goes back out the room—in search of sheets I guess. I start to curl up on the bed but then I start smelling something rank. I start to move around but this rancid smell is still invading my nostrils so I open my eyes and start looking around. I get up from the bed when I figure out where the smell is coming from. Dude has still not come back to the room, so I yell to him, umm I think someone threw up in your bed. He runs back to the room like are you serious? He looks and sees that indeed someone has regurgitated only God knows what onto his bed. More F Bombs. He figures out which roommate upchucked all in his space. The bathroom is across from The Bison’s bedroom so he’s still yelling, “What the fuck, did you mistake my room for the bathroom?”
He gave up and we go back into the living room. He shifts gears and then starts yelling at him to give up his sheets. The roommate is like is it for her or for you. He’s like for her and her and he comes out with some comforter. I’m dumbfounded that any of this is actually happening. I mean I really thought I was in an alternate universe but then I remember who I am and figured that if this was going to happen to anyone it would indeed happen to me. We end up moving to the couch but the roommate—still wide awake—has brought out his laptop and is surfing the net I guess at like almost 5 a.m. I end up falling asleep and when I woke up sometime around 9 a.m. the roommate is in the exact place he was when I fell asleep. Sitting at this small ass “dining room” table. I swear it was like a tall coffee table, but what really what really made me lose it was seeing the roommate in a recliner pushed up to the table. Ghetto! I woke up dehydrated of course so I ask dude for some water and he brings it out in a wine goblet. Gotta love bachelor life.
So he starts getting ready and asking me if I’m hungry and suggests getting something to eat and then chilling at my place. I’m like only one problem. I don’t have my keys. I left them at my friend’s house fearing that I’d lose them on the boat. He’s like damn and then finally agrees to just drop me back off at my friend’s place. On the way back we talk and discover that we have friends in common and that we actually could have met a couple weeks earlier at a birthday party I was supposed to go to. He said he still wanted to get up later in the day per our original plan from Saturday afternoon, but he was feeling sick all day and I was just tired from the whole crazy weekend.
If that wasn’t a crazy enough random negro story this is sure to put it over the top. Sunday after riding with my friends to see one off to the airport and the other back to her spot, I get home. I start reconnecting with the online world, checking Facebook, Myspace and instant messaging folks online. I sent a quick message to this one dude I met on this dating site, we’ll call him Esquire. So we’re chit chatting about Colin Powell endorsing Barack Obama but then I shift the conversation to when we’re gonna get together and he starts talking about how things are crazy and he tells me that he ended up going out on a date with some woman he was dating about a year ago and that he actually had a really great time and that he was probably going to see “what was up with that.” He said he didn’t (insert air quotes) know that I wanted to date him. Oh really. Last weekend he was talking about how he wanted to go see W with me, but of course that wasn’t going to work out because of my prior Homecoming engagements.
So I’m thinking to myself are you serious. In the span of one weekend I’m really going to get passed over twice?!? I must have been a horrible person in my past life. So I start thanking him for being honest and not wasting my time and he’s like well I’m sure you’re dating other people anyway. So I’m like I thought you didn’t assume things. He’s like I’m not. So I go well unless you’ve seen me on a date how is that not an assumption? He reveals that some conversations we had about blogging (I told him I was addicted to reading them) got him curious about blogging so he did some research about local blogs and found mine. He put two and two together with my blog name and the job and location. Shit. Not that I necessarily wanted to hide the fact that I’ve been dating, but there’s something about discovering that someone you’re trying to date has information that you didn’t intend for them to have. Well at least not all the sordid details.
He confessed that finding it made him realize that he wouldn’t start one because anyone that he might write about could quite easily stumble upon it and that talking to me became a low priority because he felt like he’d just be added to the mix of men in my life and he’s not looking for that. So my big ass mouth and open ass blog cost me a potential relationship. Now I’m all paranoid about who else might be reading this thing. Oh well I’ll keep searching. But maybe I should restrict my Random Negro Stories File entries to foolishness so far in the past it won’t have any impact on my current love life. Or maybe it’s time to lock this baby down and only let invited readers into my crazy world.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Random Negro Stories File: The Staffer
Hey people. I’m gonna be MIA until Monday when I fill you in about my Howard Homecoming Winning Weekend. No I don’t actually expect them to win the game (Howard is not known for its athletic programs), but it just sounded good. Like those radio promotions when you call in to win free tickets to stuff. Anyway I’ve got a quick story to tell y’all.
So where was I? Oh Homecoming. So I’m at work this morning waiting on this Committee hearing to start. (Sidebar: You know they are really ruining my “recess.” I mean my local Congressman is back in his district probably campaigning or something, why can’t they be?) Anyway I overhear these two dudes talking about Howard Homecoming. After a while I interject and ask if either of them went to Howard. One actually did and we start the whole when did you graduate, what events are you going to thing. The dude he was talking to had to run, but we kept talking.
Turns out he’s the IT Director for one of the Committees I regularly cover, so he’ll be called The Staffer. Trying to get into my networking mode I ask him if he has a card and he’s like I’ll get one for you. I thought it was one of those lines that people say when they really don’t want to give you their card, so I was surprised when he actually came back to the room and hands me his card. I gave him mine and he left.
I got this email about some alumni parties for the weekend, so I sent him a quick email telling him about the parties and that it was nice to meet him. He replied saying it was nice to meet me as well and thanked me for the party information. I reply no problem. And then he writes back, “Sorry I know you are probably busy but after sitting in the hearing for about 2 hours you may be a little hungry. If you are free after this is over we should grab lunch.”
After some consultation with SuperDave about the nature of this invite (Is it a date or just a networking opportunity?) I accept the offer and tell him I just have to finish up some work and drop my stuff off and I’ll be free.
I’m thinking since we’re on the Hill we’ll just go to one of the cafeterias on site, so when he suggested going to Uno’s I’m starting to think this isn’t just networking. I’m not a big Uno’s fan so I ask him what else he’s got in mind and we agree on going to the Capitol City Brewery not too far from Union Station.
I dropped my stuff off and did a quick hair/makeup check. Date or not you will not catch me slipping. I meet him outside of his office and we walk over there. As we sit down he starts asking me all these date type questions like what’s my favorite food and where’s my family and stuff, so I conclude that this is indeed a date. He did pay and as we walked back to the Hill he was like well it was nice and said he’d give me a call and maybe we could do it again next week.
So there! I finally met someone in person and outside of the club scene. I thought I was going to be totally dependent on the Internet to find dates, but guess what?!? Ya girl still got it!
So where was I? Oh Homecoming. So I’m at work this morning waiting on this Committee hearing to start. (Sidebar: You know they are really ruining my “recess.” I mean my local Congressman is back in his district probably campaigning or something, why can’t they be?) Anyway I overhear these two dudes talking about Howard Homecoming. After a while I interject and ask if either of them went to Howard. One actually did and we start the whole when did you graduate, what events are you going to thing. The dude he was talking to had to run, but we kept talking.
Turns out he’s the IT Director for one of the Committees I regularly cover, so he’ll be called The Staffer. Trying to get into my networking mode I ask him if he has a card and he’s like I’ll get one for you. I thought it was one of those lines that people say when they really don’t want to give you their card, so I was surprised when he actually came back to the room and hands me his card. I gave him mine and he left.
I got this email about some alumni parties for the weekend, so I sent him a quick email telling him about the parties and that it was nice to meet him. He replied saying it was nice to meet me as well and thanked me for the party information. I reply no problem. And then he writes back, “Sorry I know you are probably busy but after sitting in the hearing for about 2 hours you may be a little hungry. If you are free after this is over we should grab lunch.”
After some consultation with SuperDave about the nature of this invite (Is it a date or just a networking opportunity?) I accept the offer and tell him I just have to finish up some work and drop my stuff off and I’ll be free.
I’m thinking since we’re on the Hill we’ll just go to one of the cafeterias on site, so when he suggested going to Uno’s I’m starting to think this isn’t just networking. I’m not a big Uno’s fan so I ask him what else he’s got in mind and we agree on going to the Capitol City Brewery not too far from Union Station.
I dropped my stuff off and did a quick hair/makeup check. Date or not you will not catch me slipping. I meet him outside of his office and we walk over there. As we sit down he starts asking me all these date type questions like what’s my favorite food and where’s my family and stuff, so I conclude that this is indeed a date. He did pay and as we walked back to the Hill he was like well it was nice and said he’d give me a call and maybe we could do it again next week.
So there! I finally met someone in person and outside of the club scene. I thought I was going to be totally dependent on the Internet to find dates, but guess what?!? Ya girl still got it!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Random Negro Stories File: The Mason
So many of you may be wondering what happened to the guy from “The Date That Went Well” blog. Well guess what?!? So am I.
The Mason, much like many of the other guys I find myself digging, is a mess. What a disappointment.
A week after that date he promised a day of quality time with lunch, shooting pool, and then DVD watching at my house. Well the night before all of that was supposed to go down, he went to his ten-year high school reunion, got drunk off his ass because it was open bar, and canceled on me. Fine I said. I know all too well what a hang over of that magnitude can do to a person. So I didn’t trip. He said he’d make it up the next day.
Well the next day came and went with nary a call, text, smoke signal, or carrier pigeon from The Mason, to offer any explanation about why he stood me up. You think I’d learned from Iraq and just let it go right. No I can’t leave well enough alone so I asked him what was up. He apologized saying he had an emergency and that he fucked up by not calling. Ya damn right you fucked up. Again he promised to make it up. Silly me I believed him.
I did see him once more after that great date, but it was an impulse come over and spend the night with me type thing. We didn’t do the hokey pokey after acknowledging that it would muddy an already unclear situation. We even chatted the next day. But then communication faded to black. Again I asked him what was up and he said that he was busy and probably too busy to date and ended things saying he hoped I was available when he wasn’t as busy.
So there it was: my brush off. Or so I thought. Three days later he sends me an unsolicited text message talking about how he owes me a date and that he wanted to pick back up where things left off that night he came over. Figures. So I text him back saying “Oh, guess you’re not too busy for that.” We go through this whole exchange over text (that by the way really should have been a phone conversation) about how he wants more than a FB, but that it’s hard for him to devote the time to a relationship that he should. Foolishly I told him that I was still willing to work with him. He said fine and said that we would talk about it after he got out of his class.
Well of course you know he didn’t call. So I did but it was sometime later. I just had to know why this fool keeps breaking his word. He said something about how it slipped his mind and I shouldn’t let him forget. Whatever. But still we make plans to meet up one day after I get off work. So day of, I call him and am like what we doing tonight? He said he wasn’t expecting me to get off work as early as I did and he made plans to feed the homeless. How convenient. But he says he’ll be done in a couple of hours. He lives out in Alexandria so I said well I have to run an errand at Pentagon City so I can waste time there and you can scoop me from there when you’re done. He agrees.
No sooner than I step foot off the escalator at Pentagon City do I get a text message from him saying, “Bad news I have to go into work.” I’m like are you serious. Now I’m hotter than the pressing comb that my momma used to straighten out my hair when I was young. I say to him this is no longer cute. He says, “It never was, but I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry.” He offers to come over if he gets off work at a reasonable time. I’m mad, but I accept anyway. He never showed up, but the next morning I got a text talking about how he was just getting off work and he was just going home to shower and change and go back.
Like a week later he texts me asking to email him my available off days as far as I know them. This was during the SuperBailout period of my life so I told him what my usual days are and said that it was subject to change at any moment because of my crazy work schedule. Congress always has a way of ruining my love life. I’m going to write my local Congressman and ask him to try and keep all Congressional matters to normal business hours.
Eventually things died down at my full time job and then my part time job canceled evening work “until further notice.” So I was excited that I might actually get to see him again. I told him of the changes and he said that he’d probably have time on Thursday. So I said great.
I figured I would spend the night over there so I was going to pack a bag so I’d have clothes to wear to work the next day, but I woke up late that morning and figured that he’s so flaky I better not waste any time trying to get an overnight bag together. Good thing I didn’t. I got to work and sent him a message on Gmail chat. No answer. Several hours later I send one that says, “Hey I know you’re busy but I’m just trying to see if we’re still on today.” Still nothing. At 5:30 p.m. I gave up and went home. I called and left him a message saying, “Well I guess you’re standing me up again. I mean you could have at least called and said you weren’t going to be able to make it, but then that wouldn’t be considered standing me up would it?” I paused and said goodbye.
On my way home I called New Dude and we made plans to go out instead. Around 7 p.m. as I’m getting dressed for my date The Mason finally calls and says that he didn’t intentionally stand me up and that he had been swamped at work all day. He said he guessed I was already home. I responded with a series of mmm hmmms. He didn’t even try to fake a make up date this time so I knew it was time for me to just let it go.
I guess I was just hoping that at some point he would stop disappointing me and we would get back to that fun time we had. He was perfect on paper. Single, no kids, stable job, working on his a degree, non-smoker. He seemed to be everything I've been looking for that I just wanted so badly for it to work out. That and the fact that all I had going on otherwise was a series of baby daddies, but I'll have to tell y'all the story on that another day.
The Mason, much like many of the other guys I find myself digging, is a mess. What a disappointment.
A week after that date he promised a day of quality time with lunch, shooting pool, and then DVD watching at my house. Well the night before all of that was supposed to go down, he went to his ten-year high school reunion, got drunk off his ass because it was open bar, and canceled on me. Fine I said. I know all too well what a hang over of that magnitude can do to a person. So I didn’t trip. He said he’d make it up the next day.
Well the next day came and went with nary a call, text, smoke signal, or carrier pigeon from The Mason, to offer any explanation about why he stood me up. You think I’d learned from Iraq and just let it go right. No I can’t leave well enough alone so I asked him what was up. He apologized saying he had an emergency and that he fucked up by not calling. Ya damn right you fucked up. Again he promised to make it up. Silly me I believed him.
I did see him once more after that great date, but it was an impulse come over and spend the night with me type thing. We didn’t do the hokey pokey after acknowledging that it would muddy an already unclear situation. We even chatted the next day. But then communication faded to black. Again I asked him what was up and he said that he was busy and probably too busy to date and ended things saying he hoped I was available when he wasn’t as busy.
So there it was: my brush off. Or so I thought. Three days later he sends me an unsolicited text message talking about how he owes me a date and that he wanted to pick back up where things left off that night he came over. Figures. So I text him back saying “Oh, guess you’re not too busy for that.” We go through this whole exchange over text (that by the way really should have been a phone conversation) about how he wants more than a FB, but that it’s hard for him to devote the time to a relationship that he should. Foolishly I told him that I was still willing to work with him. He said fine and said that we would talk about it after he got out of his class.
Well of course you know he didn’t call. So I did but it was sometime later. I just had to know why this fool keeps breaking his word. He said something about how it slipped his mind and I shouldn’t let him forget. Whatever. But still we make plans to meet up one day after I get off work. So day of, I call him and am like what we doing tonight? He said he wasn’t expecting me to get off work as early as I did and he made plans to feed the homeless. How convenient. But he says he’ll be done in a couple of hours. He lives out in Alexandria so I said well I have to run an errand at Pentagon City so I can waste time there and you can scoop me from there when you’re done. He agrees.
No sooner than I step foot off the escalator at Pentagon City do I get a text message from him saying, “Bad news I have to go into work.” I’m like are you serious. Now I’m hotter than the pressing comb that my momma used to straighten out my hair when I was young. I say to him this is no longer cute. He says, “It never was, but I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry.” He offers to come over if he gets off work at a reasonable time. I’m mad, but I accept anyway. He never showed up, but the next morning I got a text talking about how he was just getting off work and he was just going home to shower and change and go back.
Like a week later he texts me asking to email him my available off days as far as I know them. This was during the SuperBailout period of my life so I told him what my usual days are and said that it was subject to change at any moment because of my crazy work schedule. Congress always has a way of ruining my love life. I’m going to write my local Congressman and ask him to try and keep all Congressional matters to normal business hours.
Eventually things died down at my full time job and then my part time job canceled evening work “until further notice.” So I was excited that I might actually get to see him again. I told him of the changes and he said that he’d probably have time on Thursday. So I said great.
I figured I would spend the night over there so I was going to pack a bag so I’d have clothes to wear to work the next day, but I woke up late that morning and figured that he’s so flaky I better not waste any time trying to get an overnight bag together. Good thing I didn’t. I got to work and sent him a message on Gmail chat. No answer. Several hours later I send one that says, “Hey I know you’re busy but I’m just trying to see if we’re still on today.” Still nothing. At 5:30 p.m. I gave up and went home. I called and left him a message saying, “Well I guess you’re standing me up again. I mean you could have at least called and said you weren’t going to be able to make it, but then that wouldn’t be considered standing me up would it?” I paused and said goodbye.
On my way home I called New Dude and we made plans to go out instead. Around 7 p.m. as I’m getting dressed for my date The Mason finally calls and says that he didn’t intentionally stand me up and that he had been swamped at work all day. He said he guessed I was already home. I responded with a series of mmm hmmms. He didn’t even try to fake a make up date this time so I knew it was time for me to just let it go.
I guess I was just hoping that at some point he would stop disappointing me and we would get back to that fun time we had. He was perfect on paper. Single, no kids, stable job, working on his a degree, non-smoker. He seemed to be everything I've been looking for that I just wanted so badly for it to work out. That and the fact that all I had going on otherwise was a series of baby daddies, but I'll have to tell y'all the story on that another day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
RSS Feed (xml)
