Tag Archives: drinking

17 – They Have Options

21 Oct

options

Today, my co-workers called me and told me to meet them at this sushi restaurant they frequent.  I thought it was a GREAT idea after the long day of NOTHING that I had accomplished!  LOL!  As soon as I walked in, I noticed the hot guy sitting at the table with my friends…but my girlfriends dance to their own beat…so I knew if I asked directly, “Who’s the hotness sitting at the table,” I would not receive a straight-forward answer.

So I start telling them about how, on my way over, I was pulled over by a cop whose main objective was heavy flirtation.  The cop was cute, smart, and extremely sarcastic-funny…I totally would have given him my number had he asked.  Although now, in hindsight, I’m realizing I probably should have given him mine!  My girls were laughing at the story, and Mystery Hottie smiled as well.  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

Me (to Hottie): Who are you?

Hottie: I’m Damon.

Me (to girls): Did he come with you guys?

Girls: No…we just made him sit with us.

Damon (laughingly): I was hijacked.

Me: Wow! Interesting!

Damon (to me): You know, you are absolutely beautiful! They didn’t tell me that!

I blushed profusely.  It has been a long time since a man has told me that…so straightforwardly.  I, of course, said “Thank you.”  I also assumed that his comment meant that he would possibly ask me for my phone number before departing.  We were sitting across from one another, so I asked a few questions…the obligatory Where are you from? How long have you lived here? Family?…blahblahblah…

When he left, he did not ask for my number…and, boy, was I disappointed!  I couldn’t figure it out.  My girlfriends said that I should have asked to hold his phone, and then typed my number in the phone…She’s says that always works for her.  I guess I’m going to have to abandon my old fashioned views about If he’s interested then he will let you know, and become more aggressive…?

Our waiter, who was re-named “James” by one of my girlfriends, engaged us in conversation after Hottie left (the restaurant was slow and my friends were harassing/flirting with him).  James is 30, a college graduate, no kids, a girlfriend, and has aspirations of opening his own recording studio.  I asked James, “Why do you think Hottie didn’t ask me for my number?”

James’ response:

“In this city, successful black men are in high demand.  A man who dresses well, has his own place to live, transportation, job, etc. is highly sought after…and he knows it.  Here, men have options.  Men don’t have to get the number of a “pretty girl” just because she seems to want him to have it, because here, a pretty girl is a dime a dozen. I noticed his body language toward you, and I could see that he was attracted to you…but you never know what other options he had for the evening.”

“By noon, I may have had three offers from three different women, for sex.  I used to date doctors and lawyers because they were attracted to me because of my credentials on paper.  I chose the girl I’m with now, over the doctors and lawyers, because she liked me for me…and also because I was READY and WANTED to stop fucking around and be with ONE person.  It’s all about where we are in our lives when you women meet us.”

Kismet!  A perfect stranger professed what I expected, without even knowing what I have always thought about the state of African-American male/female relationships.  I say African-American male/female relationships because I can’t speak for other races/ethnicities.  What I can say is, that as an African-American female, finding a mate with the same credentials I bring to the table is extremely difficult.  More Black males are incarcerated than in universities.  Less Black males finish college than Black females…I teach high school…I know what I’m talking about.  And no, I’m not opposed to dating outside my race…it’s just that the opportunity hasn’t presented itself.

So…folks…how is it where you live?  Do men have all the options in your city as well?

11 – More Match Madness…But Nothin’ a Little Shag Can’t Cure!

7 Jul

shag notice

So, after my “eventful” date with Mr. MBA…I decide to venture off on a night of tried-and-true fun.  I called Kenneth and asked him if he had already seen Transformers.  Seeing as how it was only released twelve hours before I asked him, I figured that some other bimbo had not beaten me to the punch.  So my Thursday evening was spent in high contrast to my Wednesday evening…laughing, joking, eating, drinking, shagging.[1]

In fact, that was the night of MJ’s death, and Kenneth and I had a talk about loneliness and how much it sucks.  He even mentioned being ready to “settle down” soon.  I found that statement hilarious…seeing as how he was sitting there, with me…and not with whomever he deems “settling down” material.  Although, knowing him, she’s somewhere close by.  See, Kenneth and I have been doing this “thing” for about three years now.  Last October, his “roommate” (read: GIRLFRIEND of twelve years) died suddenly[2], and I was momentarily rendered retarded by the event.  He leaned on me for emotional consolation[3], and I thought, for the blink of an eye…that he would choose me.

I’m over that now.  I know better.[4]

So, I was recovering from my Match Madness and beginning to embark upon another journey…down the road to perdition!  LOL!  A new guy contacted me.  He looked mama’s boy/latent gay/church boy on his profile.  I thought that that could be what I needed…someone to anchor my free-spirited waywardness.  The Latent Gay called me every day, and sometimes even TWICE a day.  He often texted me while he was at work.  We shared our hopes and dreams, while eagerly anticipating the climactic moment of our physical meeting.

I was nervous because Latent gay had not posted any full body shots of himself…nor did he offer.  I did not have any full body shots of myself, however, I did ask Latent Gay if he wanted me to email a full body to him.  He said that he didn’t care about all of that.  He said the most important thing was our ability to communicate.  I was beginning to like him more each day.

So…”D-Day,” we met at a central place in the city.  He had to drive an hour and a half to reach the city, but he said he didn’t mind.  He said he was always in the city.  He even hinted at picking me up, but I told him that coming to my place would add another thirty minutes to his drive.[5] He put the activities of the evening in my hands, and I chose a place where several events were occurring at one time.  There is a bowling alley/lounge, movie theater, restaurant/sports bar, and several places to eat in this one location.  I told him that we could meet and then decide what to do.  He was adamant about pinpointing a time and a “thing” to do, so he called me back and said The Hangover was playing at 6:30pm.

So that’s what we did.  We saw a movie.  With the warmth of a cactus, he gave me a hug…told me how GREAT it was to finally meet me…and that he would call once he made it home.  Well, he did call, but he was not at home.  I heard loud voices and music in the background.  He said he made it home and had a wonderful evening.

I never heard from him again.

I went salsa dancing.


[1] In no particular order…but the shagging part was my absolute fav! J

[2] No, he did not kill her!  It was a blood clot in the lung.  She was only twenty-nine.  Very sad.

[3] In fact, called me the day she died and had me sit with him until his parents could make it to his apartment.  It was a six hour wait.

[4] But it still feels like a gigantic cleaver in the heart, regardless!

[5] Okay…so I exaggerated!  I didn’t know him, and I don’t allow strangers access to the location of my home.