SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY

Okay, so I’m not dead (lol). Just laying in the cut tryna reestablish my passion. I need a new muse. ;o)

Also, I’m looking to transplant myself to new fertile ground. So I may be coming to a city near you {be on the look out Atlanta, Houston, Washington, DC, NoVA and Charlotte}.

Speaking of Charlotte, it reminds me a story; a story from my early Internet days. Allow me to share with you kind strangers.

Because I had such success with my first out of town jaunt, I decided to give it another go. I had started communicating with a young lady I discovered online, who just so happened to live in Charlotte, NC. This interested me because back in 2001, I was seriously considering Charlotte as a new locale to live. So meeting her online had an additional benefit. She would be my ticket into that up-and-coming southern city.

Now granted my deciding to meet her wasn’t just about coming up with an excuse to visit Charlotte, she seemed to be a very cool person. After happening upon each other, we quickly exchanged phone numbers and began chatting with each over the next couple of months. We laughed a lot and delved into each other’s being. She learned about me and I about her.

Her screen name was Sweeta-thejuice, which I believe had a lot to do with her dark chocolate complexion. Being a choco-holic myself, that was a plus. She had moved to Charlotte from her hometown of Seattle, as a part of her employer’s relocation of its headquarters. It was just her and her two children. She looked good on paper – an educated, single mom with a leadership position in her career and making it happen (I always seem to fall into a trap of giving brawds a chance when they look good on paper – but that’s the subject of a future story).

As far as her looks go, in addition to being chocolaty, she seemed pretty fashionable and judging by the pics I perused, she had a nice body (clothed). So I didn’t think anything of going to see her. I normally trust my judgment and my judgment was tellin’ me that this woman (same age as myself at the time – 30) was good to go.

We made arrangements for me to come down on a weekend to spend some time with her. Given the fact that she was about 8 hours away down I-95, I decided to take off one Friday and drive down to see her. The plan was for her to ditch the kids for a weekend and kick it with yours truly. I packed up the pathfinder and set out for a weekend of fun and discovery.

Throughout my journey that day, we remained in contact via the phone. She actually went into work, but had planned to leave early to meet me at her home. When I got into North Carolina, we spoke again and that’s when she told me that there were some slight changes to the plan, but not to worry it was still going to be all-good. The kids were still there, but they would be going away for the weekend when she got off. I was like okay, there was nothing to worry about. I called her again when I got very close to her home. She told me that she wouldn’t be there to greet me when I arrived, but that her kids would be home and they would let me in. WTF!!!

This woman never met me before and doesn’t know my pedigree, but she trusts me to enter her house without her being there and to mingle with her kids. It sounded very reckless to me. Especially given the circumstances that this was an Internet arrangement. Luckily for her, I am safe. While I didn’t like the “new arrangement” I arrived at her home in the gated community and made my way to the door. Her preteen son answered the door and relayed the message that I’m to come in and wait and that his mom would be arriving shortly thereafter. I felt funny as I walked in and there was no adult to greet me. It became even more awkward because her other child was a six year old girl. So I was really noided about being there. I definitely didn’t want to catch some miscellaneous charge on a random visit.

Entering her apartment there were several things that immediately jumped out to me. One was that her home was somewhat if a hangout for the preteen set. There were random white and black boys on skateboards with video games in tow, coming and going. It was very suburban like. The second thing I noticed was that her home, while filled with nice things, was a complete and utter mess. Her son’s room was the epicenter of this catastrophe. I’ve seen pictures from Hiroshima that was as much of a devastation. And the rest of the crib wasn’t that far behind.

I sat on the couch, afraid to touch anything, and just took it all in. I had been bamboozled. How in the hell could someone, who seemingly had it so together live like she was living – in that mess of a home. Her daughter took it upon herself to grill me while I watched Rap City on BET. I was relieved to hear the jingle of keys in the door. It was the Chocolate Chic finally joining the party.

Chocolate Chic: I’m sorry about not being her to greet you. I told my son what do and I hope everything was cool.

Serial Dater: I understand, things happen.

Chocolate Chic: I also apologize for state of the apartment – kids. I wanted it to be clean when you arrived (she yells down the hall). Ya’ll go ahead and start cleaning up right now.

Serial Dater: (inaudible..) I understand.

Chocolate Chic: There’s one more thing. I got some bad news. The baby sitter for the kids backed out on me at the last minute and now I’m gonna be stuck with them for the weekend. I hope that’s not a problem.

If I weren’t tired from the eight plus hour drive down or if I would’ve had a back up chic set up in North Carolina, I would’ve bounced quicker than those new NBA basketballs. I was heated about the dirty crib, but toss kids on top of that and we have the makings of a horrendous weekend excursion. I kept my cool about the situation and tried my damnedest to be trooper. But it was hard.

Let’s get back to this crib. It was shit everywhere. Nothing had a home. It was like wherever you left it, was where it belonged. The kitchen was a disaster area. Dirty dishes were piled high and the trash was piled even higher. Both of the kid’s rooms were straight hit. And the laundry room inside of her apartment was piled almost to the ceiling with piles of dirty clothes, some of which smelled of piss (her daughter was a bed wetter). And that wasn’t the only smell lingering in that apartment. In addition to kitchen garbage and the pee saturated dirty clothes, there was also the undeniable scent of animal. On top of her mess, she also was a dog owner. And because the animal was untrained, she kept him inside of a cage located in her walk-in closet. I was becoming more and more disgusted and I had only been there for an hour.

Now the ungodliness of her apartment doesn’t stop there. There was yet another area of the home that should’ve been quarantined – the bathroom. It was one of the more dirty bathrooms I’d ever seen in 30 years. It was so dirty, that I was afraid of it. And after an 8-hour drive I needed to freshen up. There were no clean towels, so she had to throw some in the washing machine. And more importantly there was no soap; not a single bar. And that raised red flags.

While I wait for the towels and wash clothes to become available, I sat and watched more TV. She and her brood attempted to clean up. And excluding the kid’s rooms, the attempt was okay. She also tried an array of remedies to distinguish the agonizing aromas that fluttered about. After disinfecting the place, the scented candles did the trick. The place was now presentable for living but definitely not for company.

The bathtub had a film on it, so I dared not step a single foot in that slime bowl. So instead, I hoe-bathed in the sink (FYI, I did that the entire time I was there and I had to do so using the deodorant soap I bought with me). That night we decided to go to Appleby’s for dinner. I don’t remember if the kids were with us. Had they been, then I probably would’ve been pissed on a level not seen before by mortal man. While at dinner we held civil conversation given the circumstances.

Chocolate Chic: Serial, I am so sorry for how this weekend turned out. I really wanted things to go a whole lot differently. I really hope that you don’t hold this against me.

Serial Dater: Hey shit happens. I wish it would’ve turned out differently too. But I’m here now and let’s just make the best of it.

Chocolate Chic: Agreed. Hey you hear that music that the restaurant is playing overhead. That’s what my company does. That’s our music.

Serial Dater: That music that’s constantly playing? You do that?

Chocolate Chic: Well that’s what the company I work for does. We supply music to business like this restaurant and others. I work for Musak and we have contracts with a lot different businesses.

Serial Dater: That sounds real cool. I bet you got access to a lot of different music and can make your own CDs.

Chocolate Chic: You know that’s right! But it’s much cooler than that. You should see our headquarters. As a matter of fact, I’ll take you there tomorrow to see it. We have an internal team meeting and presentation.

After dinner, we went back to her spot a.k.a the dungeon. I slept in the bed with her, but for some reason, it was awkward. And to top things off, I didn’t hit either. And even weirder, I wasn’t even disappointed that I didn’t. The next morning we got up early (I think she dropped her kids off somewhere, but I can’t recall) and drove across the state line into South Carolina where her job was headquartered. It was like entering NASA or something. There were secret codes and scans and shit. Hell at my job, you got an alarm code and a door key; nothing fancy.

She was right when she said that I would like the place. It was very dot.com-ish and trendy. There was no dress code and people traveled through the warehouse facility on scooters. There was lots of open spaces and rows upon rows of shelves with every kind of music imaginable. Muzak created play lists for clients and then beamed the music to their locations via satellites. I was very cool. For there meeting/presentation the team dressed up like secret agents (ala Mission Impossible) and entered the meeting room. The boss man of the team was dress like an agent too and entered on a motorcycle. The whole thing was straight gangsta and fun. I was hella jealous. We never did anything like that at my corporate job. :o(

After the meeting, we left her job and it was time for business – I need to see Charlotte. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be happening because I had a very poor excuse for a tour guide. Being a transplant, plus a shut-in equaled me knowing about as much about Charlotte as she did. She didn’t know the spots, the hangouts or the scene. So we drove around aimlessly until I decided that we should catch a movie. We went to the theater to see Rush Hour 2, so you know how old this is. After the flick, I asked to go to the mall. Whenever I go to a new city, it is a must that I hit the mall and see what’s really going on.

Usually, I like to go to the hood mall, which she wasn’t prepared to do, so we compromised and went to the one that was between hood and bougsie. At the mall I copped a new pair of Iverson’s I hadn’t seen before. They were silver and white and definitely hittin’ on some shit. So I was happy about that. I also copped a couple of fresh shirts and this really trendy wicker picnic basket (don’t ask & no it wasn’t for her) which I still own till this day. I told her prior to me coming down, that I was the king of Scrabble, so she felt the need to test me on this. She bought a Scrabble board game from the toy store at the mall.

Back at La’Casa Le’ Dirty, she cooked us all dinner. I remember the main dish being fried chicken. After dinner, I played Scrabble against she and her son. Of course, I demolished them both. And I even let them work together. I’m wicked with the words and I gets busy in the Scrabble game. After dinner, we sat up had some drinks and talked. She had let her daughter lay down in the bed we were sleeping in. And yes her daughter peed in it. I was mortified. We had to flip the mattress and put clean (about as clean as it got it that house) linen down. That night, that damn “Trapped In Tha Closet” dog kept me up with its whining. And yes again, there was no sex.

Early the next morning, Sunday, I was planning to make a major exodus. But I wanted to try one last time to smash off Chocolate Chic before I left. I knew she secretly wanted to get crushed but she didn’t want to do anything with the kids around. I got up and took my umpteenth hoe bath of the weekend. I subtly suggested that she wash up too.

{Author’s note: I was there for three days and I don’t recall anyone other than myself actually partaking in any bathing of any kind. And I don’t recall seeing that damn dog getting walked}.

She complied with my washing mandate and then returned to the bedroom after seeing that her kids were still sleep. She closed the bedroom door, presumably locking it, and rejoined me in the bed. We began to make out. “We’re gonna have to be quiet and quick, the kids are still sleeping,” she said. She was completely nude and I still in my boxers and t-shirt. I began to suck on her Nubian breast, which ironically didn’t taste like dirt (lol). She moaned and started to get into it. And just as I thought we were about to consummate the deal…the bedroom door busted open. “Mommy I’m hungry,” the little voice said.

And with that my wood subsided as we scrambled to get ourselves together. She hurriedly threw on a robe and ushered the little girl out of the room to tend to her. I quickly got up and got fully dressed. By the time she returned I told her that I wanted to stay in front of the Sunday track and get on the road. I packed my shit, hugged her good bye and hit the highway for Baltimore.

I was very happy to be out of her spot. When I got home, I took a bath and a shower and just relaxed in the tranquility of my own surroundings. After that trip, I never did call her again. I was just so disappointed in how that weekend went down. And to top it off, I didn’t even get to see Charlotte. :o(

What up Charlotte!

Ya number one Rude Bwoy – Serial Dater is back!