4 INNA MORNIN'

Some times chicks can be mad trife!


When Sisqo and the gang made that song, “Somebody's Been Sleeping In My Bed” I thought they were very soft on the true realities of such a transgression. Most dudes don't contemplate what can be done to prohibit this act from happening again in the future. Most dudes contemplate exactly how much legal trouble they will really be in when they finish whuppin' that cheatin' bitch's ass.

I know some of you are probably thinking, “hey wait a minute Serial that wasn't what that song was about. Sisqo was speaking figuratively from the perspective of a man who was messing up, not appreciating the jewel of a woman he had and so a more qualified, better man was allowed to come into the picture and essentially take his place - in her heart and subsequently in her bed.” Fuck that.

This interpretation might be true, but try explaining that to a nigga who feelin' betrayed and he off that 'dro. Some body is gonna catch a bad one. The details can be sorted out at another time (lol).

In my life, I've had the pleasure of playing both sides of this equation. Neither side I'm particularly fond of being on. But if I had to make a choice you best believe I prefer to be the man boning somebody's chick than the dude who's chick is getting boned. There's less honor in the latter. With that in mind, I'm reminded of an occasion, which placed your flavor-rite Serial Dater unintentionally on the “doing the boning” side of the equation.

Believe it or not, there is one out there in the dating world, who makes me seem like a choirboy. His name is Smooth and to his credit he is tall, about as charismatic as I am and a professional basketball player (nigga you owe me major for this gay ass shout out) and he's running rampant on the Internet. As a matter of fact, I met him on Black Planet via the first incarnation of this blog. We clicked and started hanging out together every now and then.

One day he gives me a holla to see if I was down to go with him to this club in Temple Hills, Maryland (right outside of Washington, DC), called - Club Elite. Per his observation this place was “wall-to-wall bitches” at least 20 females per each man. I liked odds like that, so I told him I would go there with him on Friday. We get to the spot and as it turns out, I had actually been to this spot before in my travels (sleigh bed girl from DC had held her B-day party there). So we go in and it was as Smooth had said - lots and lots of women.

We made a round or two through both levels of the club before heading to the downstairs bar to have a drink {FYI if you ever go there, see the female bartender down stairs with the two-tone complexion face - she is righteous on the drinks}. After we got our drinks I split to go do my own thing. Part of the reason was due to the fact that I don't need extra competition, but probably more so because Smooth tends to draw crowds around him and not everyone in the crowd is of the female persuasion. In other words, he has “male groupies.” Personally, I've never seen such levels of dick riding that up close and personal (lol). And unless we out that same mob, I tend to refrain from moving through the club in a pack of dudes.

Down on that lower level, Club Elite rocked mostly that good ole Go-Go. Being from Baltimore (who's musical attributes resembles Detroit's - think club music and techno) I wasn't a fan of the tribal rhythms of Go-Go music. But damn if that music don't have the women on the dance floor getting buck. So where the women are, so find you the Serial one. I was out there doing the 'same ole two step'. That's when I spotted HER. She was getting her thing off dancing with this guy. Rhythmic dry humping one could call it. But here was the clicker - I peeped her eying me the whole time. I motioned for her to see me when she was done grinding to music.

When I saw her, the first thing I noticed was the same thing I thought I'd noticed about her on the dance floor - her bodacious booty. But on the dance floor it was kinda hard to tell with that guy super glued to her spine (that dude shoulda smoked a cigarette after that dance). However it was no denying that ass when she walked over to where I stood. {I think I should interject some thing here. For some reason people seem to think that every woman who has appeared in a story I've written was a dime. That is so not the case and I try to be true to their actual appearances. If they were a dime I will say so. But if they weren't, I normally would play up the attributes I liked about them. The fact of the matter is, most of the story co-stars were average or just aiiiight.}

This particular young lady (about 28 in age) was just that - average. To go along with that ass was a wee bit of a pouch, which was to be expected from a mother of two, who apparently was anti exercise. She was brown skinned and had very long straight hair. Because of the hair complexion and the cheekbone features, I inquired if she was mixed with anything. She gave me the obligatory black girl response, “I got Indian in me”. Gimme a break with that shit. She got Indian in her. I asked her what was her Indian name - Dances With Hair Weaves? (lol) We exchanged phone numbers and promised to get up with each other.

It was a slow week so I pulled out the number I got from the Club Elite girl. I called her and asked about us hooking up. She informed me that she was returning to Club Elite that Friday and that I should meet her there. “Oh geeez, I though to myself. She's a regular.” That Friday I got dipped and headed back to Club Elite to rendezvous with ole gurl. Heading down the stairs to the lower level to find ole gurl, I ended up locking gazes with this older chocolate woman coming up the stairs. By the time I had hit the bottom of the stairs I looked up and she was still eying me. So you know how I do, I went right back up the stairs to go politic with her for a minute. It was no sense in not taking advantage of the opportunity. I got her number (she may very well appear in a future story - that one was a doozy) and then went to find Club Elite girl.

I found her where I had first saw her - on the dance floor. We connected again and she was in raw mode. She was all over me like I was her man. We danced through one song and then went to sit down for a minute. As I sat on the chair talking to her, she gets up and then proceeds to give me an erotic lap dance. Looking back I think she was trying to purposely get me hard. And it was working. I could feel how soft her ass was through her clothes and that was really turning me on. Before long we had quite an audience watching the lap dance show. It was time to go. ;o)

She asked me to follow her back to her place in Suitland, which I did. She lived in an apartment on the third floor. I parked my truck in a strategic position so that I could see it from her living room window. I wasn't too sure about her neighborhood and I didn't want to take any chances. We walked into her apartment and two things struck me right away - one being the large man eating iguana and the other being the computer set up almost at the front door. Once I learned that the iguana was secured, of course I had to ask her about her internet dealings.

Serial Dater: I see you got a computer. You be on the internet a lot?

Club Elite Girl: Yeah, when I get bored I play on the internet a lot. Are you on the internet?

Serial Dater: I dibble and dabble on the internet. Mostly I be on Black Planet.

Club Elite Girl: I thought so! You look really familiar. What's your screen name?


We took a minute to peruse my BP page and I looked at hers. I didn't recognize hers, but she was familiar with mine. She even told me that she was thinking about sending me a note at one time.

We sat down on the couch to talk a bit. Our conversation was interrupted by the late night ringing of her home phone. I looked at her and she looked hesitant to answer. It was going on 3 a.m. She cautiously picked up the phone to answer after recognizing the caller. Her eyes suggested that I not say anything so that the person on the other end of the phone didn't know I was there. I recognized this scenario and I didn't like it. Her facial expression gave a hint that she was not pleased with the general direction of the phone call. And then she hung up.

Club Elite Girl: Shit. That was a friend of mine asking me to come pick him up from DC. He just got off of work and he don't have a ride. It is three and the mornin' and I ain't tryna drive all the way to DC.

Serial Dater: So is that your man? And better yet is he tryna come over here? Cause it ain't that serious. I can bounce.

Club Elite Girl: No don't leave. He ain't my man. Just a friend. Shit, I shouldn't have answered the phone! Now he know I'm home.

Serial Dater: Is this a problem or not?

Club Elite Girl: No it's not a problem. He don't drive. And if he call back, I'll just ignore the phone and act like I went to bed. It'll be cool.

I wasn't so sure. But she took my hand and led me back to her bedroom. Once in her bedroom things progressed rather quickly. She started undressing me and took my semi hard dick into her mouth. She worked it out until I was at maximum strength and then she got undressed. While I took off my shoes, she reached into her secret stash and pulled out the MAGNUMS. Whoa.

Here it was all on the line. I was either gonna get embarrassed or instantaneously become very proud. I slipped it on and voila - it fit {Go Serial it's ya birthday, you a big boy, it's ya birthday} lol. I smashed Club Elite Girl off something lovely. I swear, the less attractive the woman, the more deadly I am in the bedroom it seems. Ya boy Serial was porno level on the activity and wearing magnums. Nigga what! ;o)

We both bust and rolled over to go to sleep. Any woman, who knows me intimately knows that it takes me approximately 2.2 seconds to go to sleep after I nut. So I was straight gone after that explosion. At 4 a.m. I was awakened to the sound of the house phone going off again. I couldn't believe it. I had just hit R.E.M. when that shit sounded. It was ole boy again from earlier. Only this time Club Elite Girl was panicking and frantically trying to get shit in order.

Club Elite Girl: Baby, I'm so sorry, but you gotta go. He must've gotten a ride from someone else cause he on his way over here now!

Serial Dater: Are you fucking kidding me? I thought that wasn't your man!

Club Elite Girl: He not. But some times he think he is and some times he be trippin. I'm sorry but you gotta go. I promise I'll make it up to you. I promise. Please forgive me!

Serial Dater: This is truly fucked up! I'm out.

I got my shit together in record time and was in the wind before ole boy showed up. See that's the type of shit I deserve for picking up strays at the club. I hit the 7-Eleven and got a cup of coffee. Then I trekked it back up I-95 to Baltimore dead tired. I shouldn't have been upset, but I was. There was no one else to blame, I put myself in that predicament. Well at least I got that nut off (lol).

For weeks (fuck that months) following that night, Club Elite Girl continued to call me. Each time she would leave a message apologizing and asking to see me again. Each time I ignored her and let my voice mail answer. Her messages typically when like this, “Serial, this is Club Elite Girl. Dayum baby, I said I'm sorry. Why can't you forgive me. At least call me back to cuss me out or something. I hate that you're not saying anything to me - that's worse.” I never did call her back and her calls continued even after I moved to Detroit.

One day, I may very well call her and cuss her out like she wants. One day. Maybe.