THE OVERNIGHT SCENARIO
So it was a Saturday night and I was pressed.
I was pressed to get the hell out of the house and do something – any thing – fun. Sometimes Baltimore could be so dead on the weekend. Being newly separated from my wife left me to once again venturing back out into the dating world. Normally on a Saturday night, she and I would be doing something together out on the town – something couple-like. But she was gone and I was rolling for dolo.
Getting back into the swing of dating again proved to be challenging and I hadn’t gotten my dating feet back yet. So I decided to call up my boy Eric to see if anything was poppin’ with him. After about four rings, Eric finally answered his cell phone. I asked him where he was at and he told me that he and his roommate where at a private club in College Park called the 94th Aero Squadron. A motorcycle club was giving a party. In the background I could here the thumping bass and what sounded like a gang of women. I didn’t know how live the party really was, but one thing was fo’sho, I wanted to be down.
Serial Dater: Is that shit “like that” or what?
That Nig “E”: Son, it’s mad bitches here. I was just talking to two fine ass honeys when you called me.
Note: Anytime you’re not there and you’re boy is there, rest assured there will be mad bitches abound and the greatest fun in the history of going out will be had – only because you’re not there.
Serial Dater: Yo, I’m tryna be where you at!
That Nig “E”: You need to get your ass down here ASAP nigga. Ronald was about to leave, but if you coming for sure, I’ll stay and wait for you cause I was riding with him.
Serial Dater: No doubt. I’m on my way. Just make sure you save some honeys for me.
It took me no time to get dipped in a fresh pair of jeans shorts, a button-up short-sleeved polo shirt and my favorite baseball cap. After splashing on some cologne, I hopped in Mac Mobile and blast-off to College Park. I hit Eric on the cellie and we met up at the door. When I walked in, the place was packed with young black professionals, most of which were female. I was definitely in the right place.
Just like old times, we hit the club hard like we owned the joint and all the women in house belonged to us. Everyone else was just temporarily borrowing them. As was our custom, we made one complete round through out the spot before hitting the bar. Completing our “club lap” we descended upon the dance floor and got our boogie on with the nearest two available women. Quite as kept, your boy is ill with the two-step.
After dancing with this one chick and almost getting a chubby, I left Eric and went to sit at the bar for minute to have a drink. I saw something nice in a skirt that I wanted to get to know better but some clown was still borrowing her for the moment. I made eye contact as to say, when you’re finished with the JV slide on over here to holla at the Varsity. It felt good being confident again. Earlier, I was somewhere on cusps of feeling sorry for myself, but hooking up with Eric again helped me find that old me. The me I used to be familiar with.
I sat at the bar drinking my Corona when this other fine sistah walked up to me with the sexiest smile on her face. The confidence meter rose just a bit more. “Excuse me,” she said. “Would you mind dancing with my girlfriend?”
WTF? Dance with her girlfriend?
I played it cool. “Who’s your girlfriend?” I asked. She pointed the girl out. Her friend was a basic brawd – no frills kinda average looking. She would’ve gotten more points in my book if she would’ve came over and asked me to dance herself. “I’ll dance with your girl, but I’d rather be dancing with you,” I slyly said. She responded, “If you dance with her, I’ll dance with you afterwards.” So with that, I allowed myself to get pimped for a charity dance.
As I sat at the bar, I began to notice that I’d caught the eye of another female down at the opposite end of the bar. All the while I was waiting for ole gurl number one to finish talking to the lame next to me and during my conversation with the mistress of the dance, that girl at the end of the bar remained focused on me. She was kinda cute, so it wasn’t hard to notice her checkin’ me out. Finally, our eyes engaged and locked in complete contact. She never moved or spoke a word, but she urged me to come to her. So I did.
Bar Girl: I thought you were going to make me wait all night to get some attention from you.
Serial Dater: I didn’t know you wanted my attention. Why didn’t you say something?
Bar Girl: You saw me looking. Besides, you were pretty busy and I didn’t want to interrupt.
Serial Dater: Well I’m here now.
Bar Girl: That you are. I have to tell you that you look very handsome in your hat [more on the hat later].
I thanked her for the compliment and she bought me another drink. We continued to sit at the bar and talk. Of course ole gurl number one is finally free, but she sees now that I’m not and so she moves on. Mean while dance girl is still looking for me to come ask her socially inept homey to dance. I was trying to wrap up the convo with the girl at the bar, but she was having no parts of letting me go. She asked if we could take a walk and continue getting to know one another. I surrendered and we began to walk to the outside patio.
The ambiance of the 94th Aero Squadron is very nice. There were plenty of nooks and fireplaces throughout – perfect for getting to know someone better. Out on the patio there was even a huge fire pit with a sitting area around it. We took our seats and continued this “getting to know one another” session.
As we sat around the fire, she began offering me more and more information about her good qualities, her previous marriage, her life in general and her future desires. During the course of that conversation, I learned that she used to be married to a professional basketball player (the European league kind not the NBA), she graduated from Howard University, was a Delta, had a child, got her ass whupped by her husband once or twice and that she knew how to take care of a man and would do anything from cooking meals to massaging his feet and clipping his toenails to make him feel special. Yes I learned all that in a one-way 30-minute conversation.
God, I love women. ;o)
Wanting to wrap things up and get back to hanging with my boy, I exchanged numbers with her and hinted that I wanted to move on. I even put it out there, that she was neglecting her girls. “You’re girlfriends are probably wondering what happened to you,” I said. “You should probably check in with them.” Sensing my desire to bounce, she responds, “You’re probably right, can you walk with me, so that I can introduce you to them.” I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t shake this girl. What the hell did I get myself in to? At that moment, I realized what women in bars and clubs have been subjected to for eons – let a nigga buy you a drink and they think that they own you. Sheeeesh.
I met the girlfriends, who immediately began to probe and prod me like an alien abductee. “What do you do for a living?” “Are you really single?” “Do you have any kids?” “Do you have a friend or a brother?”
I wanted to get away. But somehow I haven’t mastered the skill of outwardly dissin’ bitches. So I just played along. We walked back inside the club and finally I saw Eric. “Damn nigga, what happened to you?” he asked. “ I turned around and you disappeared on me.”
I was like, “Yo I met this girl, but I can’t shake her. She cock blockin’ all the other girls up in this piece.” Eric suggested that I tell her that I hadn’t seen him in awhile and that we needed to catch up as old friends do. So I did and finally she gave me some room. About 15 minutes later, I see ole gurl and her crew walking in my direction. She breaks away from the herd to come talk to me.
Bar Girl: My girls and I were about to leave, so I wanted to see you one last time to say goodbye.
Serial Dater: Much appreciated luv. I’ll be sure to call you so that we can “hook up” sometime.
Bar Girl: I want you to know that I really enjoyed talking to you. I just wish it didn’t have to end. You really got my interest. {smiles}
Serial Dater: Yeah, I know what you mean. I enjoyed talking with you too (BS’n)
Bar Girl: Did you and your friend ride here together?
Serial Dater: Yeah I have to drop him off at his house in Baltimore.
Bar Girl: It’s a shame that you have to drop your boy off. I was going to invite you back to my place so that we could continue spending some time together.
Serial Dater: Oh really. (slow but finally catching on).
Bar Girl: Do you think he could get another ride home? I don’t live too far from here and I know you don’t want to ride all the way to Baltimore and then drive damn near to DC.
She was right, I didn’t want to burn that many miles, but I did want to go back to her place. Shit was getting expedited and I happen to like expeditions. ;o)
I found Eric and gave him the run down. Of course he was in support of me gettin’ some. Men are just supportive of each other like that. The only problem was that he still needed a ride back home. Eric was like, gimme a minute and I’ll be right back. Within minutes he came back with two white girls he had met earlier in the evening. They lived in Belair, Maryland, so they had to ride through Baltimore to get home. So they agreed to take Eric home. Problem solved.
Had we been two brawds, Eric (or Erica) would’ve initiated operation: Hater Cock Block and probably demand that I take her home. And would probably tell me how stupid I was for wanting to take home a guy I just met at the club.
After her girlfriend took down my tag number (yes she told her girls that she was taking me home to talk) I followed the cutie to her Silver Spring, Maryland apartment. Once inside her spot she showed me around and then asked me to have a seat on the couch while she went to change into something “more comfortable.”
Within moments she came back in a white sheer nightgown (no panties) and a matching satin robe. Nice. She took the liberty to light some candles and dim the lights a bit. Finally she took her place next to me on the couch striking a suggestive pose never breaking her eye contact. I didn’t know what was about to happen next but I was totally respecting her gangsta. This was a take-charge new millennium woman – she made the moves she wanted to make.
“I want to show you something,” she said and then got up and left the room. I was excited about the possibilities of what she was going to come back with. Maybe some nude pics, a multi-speed vibrator or maybe some bondage accessories. No such luck. She came back with a photo album. And not just any ole photo album, a wedding photo album of she and the wife beater. I was in total confusement. I honestly thought I was there to bone.
After taking me back down memory lane, she proceeds to continue telling me about her life for the next three or more hours. I mean I was literally falling asleep right in front of her on the couch. But that did nothing to curb her monologue. Blah, blah, blah, blah blah. It was 4:30 a.m. and finally, I had given up on the idea of having random sex. So I started gathering my stuff and preparing to make my sleepy drive back up I-95 to Baltimore. Noticing my intent to leave she plays her last card.
“I wasn’t ready for you to leave yet,” she said. “We’re still getting to know one other.” I had had enough and I leaned over and started kissing and tonguing her down. She was very receptive, which made had me pissed. I could’ve done that 10 hours ago and I would been up in some draws already. See what being a gentleman gets you. We continued making out and I began kissing on her neck and breast. She was ripe, so I began to undress. I took off my shirt, sox and shoes and then my shorts. I was just about to remove my baseball cap when she exclaimed, “Wait! I want you to leave your hat on.”
Leave my hat on?
Serial Dater: What’s with the leaving of the hat on?
Bar Girl: You look cute in your hat.
Serial Dater: No really what’s the deal with the hat?
Bar Girl: Well I have this fantasy.
Serial Dater: What kinda fantasy?
Bar Girl: Well do you watch porn?
Did she really have to ask. I have quite the exquisite collection.
Bar Girl: Well there’s this porno guy named Mr. Marcus, who always has sex with his hat on. My “brother” left this porno over my house starring Mr. Marcus and every since I saw him in the video, I’ve had this fantasy.
Okay, now I was bothered by the fact that her brother allegedly watched porn over his sister’s house, but I was even more bothered by the fact that this chick was probably looking at me all night with this “Mr. Marcus” fantasy. So I bones her with my hat on (you know I had to bone her with the hat on boo), but not before she got up to go get a condom. She tried to feed me some bogus story about the condoms. Talking about her brother stays there some time and left some condoms too. Her apartment was starting to sound like a motel 8.
As we became enthralled in doing the grown up on the living room couch, I get to thinking. Is this girl having sex with Serial Dater right now or is she gettin’ smashed off by Mr. Marcus? Either or, it didn’t’ matter. One of us was about to cum and be in the wind. I came and collapsed right beside her – hat still intact. I got up to go discard the used condom and take a piss.
While in mid stream, the bathroom door busts open and there she stood in the doorway. I looked at her like WTF! Can a nigga get some privacy while he relieves himself? Noticing me looking at her, she says, “I hope you don’t mind I like to watch.”
“Watch me do what – piss?” I asked confused. “Yes,” she said. “I gotta thing for watching a man do his thing.” I was way too tired to be weirded out by this conversation, so after I peed, I washed my dick in the sink and yes she continued to watch. She talked to me the entire time I washed up, but she never stopped watching me. She even watched me get dressed. Afterwards, I went to lay down on the couch and get some shuteye. I couldn’t make that long drive back without pulling a Kanye West and running my truck into a Jersey Wall. She came out and laid on the couch with me until we both went to sleep.
Later when we woke up, we went to breakfast at I-Hop. After breakfast I dropped her off back at her place. Then she spoke those magical words to me: “I hope this wont’ be the last time I’m going to see you.”
Here we go again.
I was pressed to get the hell out of the house and do something – any thing – fun. Sometimes Baltimore could be so dead on the weekend. Being newly separated from my wife left me to once again venturing back out into the dating world. Normally on a Saturday night, she and I would be doing something together out on the town – something couple-like. But she was gone and I was rolling for dolo.
Getting back into the swing of dating again proved to be challenging and I hadn’t gotten my dating feet back yet. So I decided to call up my boy Eric to see if anything was poppin’ with him. After about four rings, Eric finally answered his cell phone. I asked him where he was at and he told me that he and his roommate where at a private club in College Park called the 94th Aero Squadron. A motorcycle club was giving a party. In the background I could here the thumping bass and what sounded like a gang of women. I didn’t know how live the party really was, but one thing was fo’sho, I wanted to be down.
Serial Dater: Is that shit “like that” or what?
That Nig “E”: Son, it’s mad bitches here. I was just talking to two fine ass honeys when you called me.
Note: Anytime you’re not there and you’re boy is there, rest assured there will be mad bitches abound and the greatest fun in the history of going out will be had – only because you’re not there.
Serial Dater: Yo, I’m tryna be where you at!
That Nig “E”: You need to get your ass down here ASAP nigga. Ronald was about to leave, but if you coming for sure, I’ll stay and wait for you cause I was riding with him.
Serial Dater: No doubt. I’m on my way. Just make sure you save some honeys for me.
It took me no time to get dipped in a fresh pair of jeans shorts, a button-up short-sleeved polo shirt and my favorite baseball cap. After splashing on some cologne, I hopped in Mac Mobile and blast-off to College Park. I hit Eric on the cellie and we met up at the door. When I walked in, the place was packed with young black professionals, most of which were female. I was definitely in the right place.
Just like old times, we hit the club hard like we owned the joint and all the women in house belonged to us. Everyone else was just temporarily borrowing them. As was our custom, we made one complete round through out the spot before hitting the bar. Completing our “club lap” we descended upon the dance floor and got our boogie on with the nearest two available women. Quite as kept, your boy is ill with the two-step.
After dancing with this one chick and almost getting a chubby, I left Eric and went to sit at the bar for minute to have a drink. I saw something nice in a skirt that I wanted to get to know better but some clown was still borrowing her for the moment. I made eye contact as to say, when you’re finished with the JV slide on over here to holla at the Varsity. It felt good being confident again. Earlier, I was somewhere on cusps of feeling sorry for myself, but hooking up with Eric again helped me find that old me. The me I used to be familiar with.
I sat at the bar drinking my Corona when this other fine sistah walked up to me with the sexiest smile on her face. The confidence meter rose just a bit more. “Excuse me,” she said. “Would you mind dancing with my girlfriend?”
WTF? Dance with her girlfriend?
I played it cool. “Who’s your girlfriend?” I asked. She pointed the girl out. Her friend was a basic brawd – no frills kinda average looking. She would’ve gotten more points in my book if she would’ve came over and asked me to dance herself. “I’ll dance with your girl, but I’d rather be dancing with you,” I slyly said. She responded, “If you dance with her, I’ll dance with you afterwards.” So with that, I allowed myself to get pimped for a charity dance.
As I sat at the bar, I began to notice that I’d caught the eye of another female down at the opposite end of the bar. All the while I was waiting for ole gurl number one to finish talking to the lame next to me and during my conversation with the mistress of the dance, that girl at the end of the bar remained focused on me. She was kinda cute, so it wasn’t hard to notice her checkin’ me out. Finally, our eyes engaged and locked in complete contact. She never moved or spoke a word, but she urged me to come to her. So I did.
Bar Girl: I thought you were going to make me wait all night to get some attention from you.
Serial Dater: I didn’t know you wanted my attention. Why didn’t you say something?
Bar Girl: You saw me looking. Besides, you were pretty busy and I didn’t want to interrupt.
Serial Dater: Well I’m here now.
Bar Girl: That you are. I have to tell you that you look very handsome in your hat [more on the hat later].
I thanked her for the compliment and she bought me another drink. We continued to sit at the bar and talk. Of course ole gurl number one is finally free, but she sees now that I’m not and so she moves on. Mean while dance girl is still looking for me to come ask her socially inept homey to dance. I was trying to wrap up the convo with the girl at the bar, but she was having no parts of letting me go. She asked if we could take a walk and continue getting to know one another. I surrendered and we began to walk to the outside patio.
The ambiance of the 94th Aero Squadron is very nice. There were plenty of nooks and fireplaces throughout – perfect for getting to know someone better. Out on the patio there was even a huge fire pit with a sitting area around it. We took our seats and continued this “getting to know one another” session.
As we sat around the fire, she began offering me more and more information about her good qualities, her previous marriage, her life in general and her future desires. During the course of that conversation, I learned that she used to be married to a professional basketball player (the European league kind not the NBA), she graduated from Howard University, was a Delta, had a child, got her ass whupped by her husband once or twice and that she knew how to take care of a man and would do anything from cooking meals to massaging his feet and clipping his toenails to make him feel special. Yes I learned all that in a one-way 30-minute conversation.
God, I love women. ;o)
Wanting to wrap things up and get back to hanging with my boy, I exchanged numbers with her and hinted that I wanted to move on. I even put it out there, that she was neglecting her girls. “You’re girlfriends are probably wondering what happened to you,” I said. “You should probably check in with them.” Sensing my desire to bounce, she responds, “You’re probably right, can you walk with me, so that I can introduce you to them.” I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t shake this girl. What the hell did I get myself in to? At that moment, I realized what women in bars and clubs have been subjected to for eons – let a nigga buy you a drink and they think that they own you. Sheeeesh.
I met the girlfriends, who immediately began to probe and prod me like an alien abductee. “What do you do for a living?” “Are you really single?” “Do you have any kids?” “Do you have a friend or a brother?”
I wanted to get away. But somehow I haven’t mastered the skill of outwardly dissin’ bitches. So I just played along. We walked back inside the club and finally I saw Eric. “Damn nigga, what happened to you?” he asked. “ I turned around and you disappeared on me.”
I was like, “Yo I met this girl, but I can’t shake her. She cock blockin’ all the other girls up in this piece.” Eric suggested that I tell her that I hadn’t seen him in awhile and that we needed to catch up as old friends do. So I did and finally she gave me some room. About 15 minutes later, I see ole gurl and her crew walking in my direction. She breaks away from the herd to come talk to me.
Bar Girl: My girls and I were about to leave, so I wanted to see you one last time to say goodbye.
Serial Dater: Much appreciated luv. I’ll be sure to call you so that we can “hook up” sometime.
Bar Girl: I want you to know that I really enjoyed talking to you. I just wish it didn’t have to end. You really got my interest. {smiles}
Serial Dater: Yeah, I know what you mean. I enjoyed talking with you too (BS’n)
Bar Girl: Did you and your friend ride here together?
Serial Dater: Yeah I have to drop him off at his house in Baltimore.
Bar Girl: It’s a shame that you have to drop your boy off. I was going to invite you back to my place so that we could continue spending some time together.
Serial Dater: Oh really. (slow but finally catching on).
Bar Girl: Do you think he could get another ride home? I don’t live too far from here and I know you don’t want to ride all the way to Baltimore and then drive damn near to DC.
She was right, I didn’t want to burn that many miles, but I did want to go back to her place. Shit was getting expedited and I happen to like expeditions. ;o)
I found Eric and gave him the run down. Of course he was in support of me gettin’ some. Men are just supportive of each other like that. The only problem was that he still needed a ride back home. Eric was like, gimme a minute and I’ll be right back. Within minutes he came back with two white girls he had met earlier in the evening. They lived in Belair, Maryland, so they had to ride through Baltimore to get home. So they agreed to take Eric home. Problem solved.
Had we been two brawds, Eric (or Erica) would’ve initiated operation: Hater Cock Block and probably demand that I take her home. And would probably tell me how stupid I was for wanting to take home a guy I just met at the club.
After her girlfriend took down my tag number (yes she told her girls that she was taking me home to talk) I followed the cutie to her Silver Spring, Maryland apartment. Once inside her spot she showed me around and then asked me to have a seat on the couch while she went to change into something “more comfortable.”
Within moments she came back in a white sheer nightgown (no panties) and a matching satin robe. Nice. She took the liberty to light some candles and dim the lights a bit. Finally she took her place next to me on the couch striking a suggestive pose never breaking her eye contact. I didn’t know what was about to happen next but I was totally respecting her gangsta. This was a take-charge new millennium woman – she made the moves she wanted to make.
“I want to show you something,” she said and then got up and left the room. I was excited about the possibilities of what she was going to come back with. Maybe some nude pics, a multi-speed vibrator or maybe some bondage accessories. No such luck. She came back with a photo album. And not just any ole photo album, a wedding photo album of she and the wife beater. I was in total confusement. I honestly thought I was there to bone.
After taking me back down memory lane, she proceeds to continue telling me about her life for the next three or more hours. I mean I was literally falling asleep right in front of her on the couch. But that did nothing to curb her monologue. Blah, blah, blah, blah blah. It was 4:30 a.m. and finally, I had given up on the idea of having random sex. So I started gathering my stuff and preparing to make my sleepy drive back up I-95 to Baltimore. Noticing my intent to leave she plays her last card.
“I wasn’t ready for you to leave yet,” she said. “We’re still getting to know one other.” I had had enough and I leaned over and started kissing and tonguing her down. She was very receptive, which made had me pissed. I could’ve done that 10 hours ago and I would been up in some draws already. See what being a gentleman gets you. We continued making out and I began kissing on her neck and breast. She was ripe, so I began to undress. I took off my shirt, sox and shoes and then my shorts. I was just about to remove my baseball cap when she exclaimed, “Wait! I want you to leave your hat on.”
Leave my hat on?
Serial Dater: What’s with the leaving of the hat on?
Bar Girl: You look cute in your hat.
Serial Dater: No really what’s the deal with the hat?
Bar Girl: Well I have this fantasy.
Serial Dater: What kinda fantasy?
Bar Girl: Well do you watch porn?
Did she really have to ask. I have quite the exquisite collection.
Bar Girl: Well there’s this porno guy named Mr. Marcus, who always has sex with his hat on. My “brother” left this porno over my house starring Mr. Marcus and every since I saw him in the video, I’ve had this fantasy.
Okay, now I was bothered by the fact that her brother allegedly watched porn over his sister’s house, but I was even more bothered by the fact that this chick was probably looking at me all night with this “Mr. Marcus” fantasy. So I bones her with my hat on (you know I had to bone her with the hat on boo), but not before she got up to go get a condom. She tried to feed me some bogus story about the condoms. Talking about her brother stays there some time and left some condoms too. Her apartment was starting to sound like a motel 8.
As we became enthralled in doing the grown up on the living room couch, I get to thinking. Is this girl having sex with Serial Dater right now or is she gettin’ smashed off by Mr. Marcus? Either or, it didn’t’ matter. One of us was about to cum and be in the wind. I came and collapsed right beside her – hat still intact. I got up to go discard the used condom and take a piss.
While in mid stream, the bathroom door busts open and there she stood in the doorway. I looked at her like WTF! Can a nigga get some privacy while he relieves himself? Noticing me looking at her, she says, “I hope you don’t mind I like to watch.”
“Watch me do what – piss?” I asked confused. “Yes,” she said. “I gotta thing for watching a man do his thing.” I was way too tired to be weirded out by this conversation, so after I peed, I washed my dick in the sink and yes she continued to watch. She talked to me the entire time I washed up, but she never stopped watching me. She even watched me get dressed. Afterwards, I went to lay down on the couch and get some shuteye. I couldn’t make that long drive back without pulling a Kanye West and running my truck into a Jersey Wall. She came out and laid on the couch with me until we both went to sleep.
Later when we woke up, we went to breakfast at I-Hop. After breakfast I dropped her off back at her place. Then she spoke those magical words to me: “I hope this wont’ be the last time I’m going to see you.”
Here we go again.
posted by The_Practitioner | 12:48 AM
20 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Are they really magical words SD? I don't think so...or do you like to hear women say that ish to you?
Maybe it's a turn on for you right now...since your just re-entering the dating world...:)
This is one reason why I am not dating now..cause (heaven forbid) if I were to express some human sexuality...I would hate for some nigg NOT to call me anymore.
I love reading your blog...I get lots of insight when I do:)
WTF?!? I'm dumbfounded. There again, WTF? I mean is this brawd for real? In no way do I condone domestic violence, but I think the husband was defending himself. He had to hit her over the fucking head to get away!
I'mma have to put a disclaimer on these stories. Most are in no way recent. This particular story happened I when I was 29 I believe. I'm actually surprised at the amount of detail I still remember.
{For the record Serial Dater at 29 is way different from Serial Dater at 35.}
And regarding those words, "I hope this isn't going to be the last time that I see you," I've only had them said to me 3 times in my life time and I so happen to write about 2 of those times. But even in those two stories, there was about a year or two between them.
Honestly, I never got turned on by hearing a woman say that to me. It actually dissappointed me. I prefer a woman with more confidence in herself to know that she'll be seeing me again. Not pondering if it may happen.
She sounds like she had some more issues than the ones she was showing...I wonder what would have occured if you had called her again...dare we ask lol
ok this has to be the funniest stuff I've read! *sigh* not the hat and Mr. Marcus. Did you have to leave your socks on too like he does? And her brother...more sighs.
They say women ignore the warning signs but you had quite a few but still had to hit it.
Definately a good blog for 'insight'.
Yeah, I am going to have to read these last two posts tomorrow. You stories are a little too good to be half ass reading them. Have a nice day. Thanks for stopping by my blog and leaving those wonderful comments. See you tomorrow.
Man...you're a STRAIGHT FOOL!! LMAO!!! I know I can always come over here to get a laugh!! HAHAHAHA!
Whew lawd....too much be going on in the damn club!
But 94th Aerosquadron does have nice "nooks" and fireplaces to get your "talk" on....
The hat, eh? That's comedy....hell go with the fantasy playa. As if you've never had a porn fantasy come to life? Uh-huh...LOL
Bar girl sounds a tad bit...off. Throwed off to be exact.
lol @ doing the grown up. I'm definitely using that one!!
I was chking back to see if you had made a comment to the question I asked...I'm glad to hear it...well in this case read it:)
I feel you on the confidence thing...Good for you papi:)
what amazes me is how men can just bone women whose elevator obviously doesn't reach the top floor.
i guess because women have the option of sex at the drop of hat -- no pun intended -- it really ain't no thang for us to bounce when we get a few glen close bat signals.
but niggs...man, a chick could be carrying a butcher knife, the How To Slice A Nig Guide to Dummies in her arm and a boiled rabbit and y'all will be like...nahhh, i'll hit it anyway.
if i were u, chick woulda been cut based on clinginess at the club. and the way she paraded you in front of the girls? oh no. willingness to divulge to a total stranger she got her ass tagged by her ex? psy-cho. and then the hat thing...dawg, u needed to have 9-1-1 on speed dial.
something tells me this chick has body parts stashed underneath the bed.
I seem to hear Rick James singing here "looooove them and leave them"...lol
as a divorced brother like yourself I can understand the trying to get into the grove, but that shit would have freaked me out. It appeared to me she was still in love with her ex. I glad you did not get stalked or killed. Watching a nigga pee that is weird.
That was hilarious! I love how she went from bar girl to the cutie when you realized she wanted to get dirty.
I hope that really is the last time you see that chick. she sounds insane. not weird, but insane. sounds like she would have like for you to be next in line to beat that azz (not making a joke, i'm serious).
you ain't supposed to tell a dude you're thinkin' about the next one! you're supposed to just do that shit in the back of your mind while tryin' like hell to remember the name of the one you got! dayum! girl don't even know how to fantasize and shyt...
and, uh, anyone who follows you around like that in the club don't deserve the dyck. for real. ladies, that goes for you, too - you already know anyone followin' us around the club gets nothing. okay, maybe a beat-down, but that's it.
and SD, you already know where i stand on the entire bathroom issue. that's not a realistic expectation, nor is is even freakin' sanitary. just, ew!!!!
LMAO!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is good stuff! Seriously: write a novel.
Oh yeah, that chick was bizarre... She definitely had issues, but I can understand the "Mr.Marcus" fantasy... I happen to hit "play" on the VCR a few years ago, and the ex-hubby had a Mr. Marcus video in there... Oh my :o ...
Old girl is right... He gets his groove on with the baseball cap on... I bet your girl was thinking about that when she first saw you at the bar!!! LOL!!
Crazy pussy is by far the best. You pay more for it though (not in real money, I hope!).
KZ
Next time you go out, maybe you should leave your hat on the hat rack at home. And you love to leave your friends for some ass. I can't see how someone gets turned on by watching someone pee though. Now that's crazy.
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