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.

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.