Buckle up the ride will be long and bumpy folks, but totally worth it...I hope!For good reason, I’ve been missing in action. OK OK, not for good reason but at this point if you read my blog semi-regularly you know that work begins to consume most of my day and I have little time to write. In any man’s river, I’m going to catch you up on er-thang Faith since the anniversary of my born day.
Because the boy drama of my life is more exciting I’ll lead with work drama. Drum roll please, I gots me a new gig! No you didn’t read that wrong. No more galloping around the free and not so free world for me. I’ll be parked in an office, OK more like a dressed-up cubicle, in the largest building in downtown Philadelphia. Alls yeah friends, I’ll be working in risk management in the hopes of becoming one of the youngest regional risk managers for an entertainment powerhouse. That might include a change of residency to LA… flashy lights!
Hold the phone! Can you imagine me in LA? What What! Sun kissed tresses and an all year tan, who gone check me boo (in my Nene Leakes voice)? I know I went down a fantasy spiral for a minute but here’s another, moving west appeals to me more than finding
Lance Gross butt butterball nekkid ready to dance in my bedroom. That’s major!
Vulgarity aside, I’ve always dreamed of a bi-coastal life. Not to mention, Model Friend already lives in the Hills. When opportunity knocks, opening the door is all I can do. On a practical note, I get my old life back. Yup, that means making plans with friends and actually attending.
Sidenote, I’m slightly nervous about the new position you know the whole am I making the right decision thing. If I can conquer this professional hurdle the race is already won. Taking on an uncomfortable experience only helps you grow as a person, in my opinion. I know I’m ready…I hope!
In boy news, Jon B. exited stage left with a big ole bang! During work hours he pulled a Brett Favre forcing me to change the iPhone settings, no more preview text messages. I was in the middle of a team room pounding the pavement when a ginormous schlong (no exaggeration) showed up. Sidenote: The man’s HUNG! I’m not a prude, however some things are just inappropriate. You don’t see me sending the vajajay via text and I would expect that an adult man would know that his peen is not welcome phone art, especially during work hours. And to add more grease to the pan, my phone sat between me and Juvenile Junior Staff Member. I pray he didn’t see the man meat. If he did, he didn’t mention it to me but of course that’s not typical office conversation.
Juvenile Junior Staff Member probably thinks I’m a freak #shamehernameisfaith!
Later that night I spoke very directly to Jon B. I asked him point-blank, are you trying to be my fcuk-friend? There was a long pause. Lately I’ve done away with tact! Since he’s sending his dcik through text, tact ain’t his strong suit either. His response, he didn’t think I was that type of girl but if I’m down, he’s down. Otherwise he’s really interested in “catching up.”
Hmmmm….again, catching up is reserved for old friends, not sure we qualify! I closed the door but left the window open, besides this peen picture misstep Jon B. ain’t too shabby. We did chat a scosh after the awkwardness of the fcuk-friend wore off. Turns out JB’s back in school and starting a non-profit. Sidenote, ladies if you’re in the market for a Jon B look a-like I can hook you up with a number. Added bonus being the peen! In any man’s river we haven’t spoken in a couple of weeks so I guess he smelled what I was cooking. His number’s saved in my phone though in case I need to dust him off and put him back on stage.
Mailroom Boy’s sporadic texting is slightly annoying. He keeps trying to re-insert himself into my life-space as if we shared something magical. Of course I can’t blame him, I am fantabulous. Sorry, I detoured down vain Faith lane, excuse my obnoxiousness. But seriously I think being friends with MB is counterproductive. We do have fun when we’re together but his brand of tea suits me not.
I’m just going to come out and say it, me and the Spaniard are together again. Somewhere inside of me lives a masochist! That might have gone too far but you know what I’m saying. I pray the third time’s a charm. Before you run off thinking I caved because I’m weak, I’m not and the thought has already crossed my mind. We hashed our relationship almost to death over the past few weeks. It shows effort on his part because men hate talking about anything, right? I feel we’re in a good place…most days.
The Spaniard has, for lack of a better term, respect issues which manifest in a lack of communication skills. Before going apeshit he’s not physically or verbally abusive, that hashish doesn’t fly in Faith-zone. In my mind, it’s partially religi-cultural. He’s an Arab Muslim, not typically known for their respect of womenfolk. I’m not knocking his religion or his place of origin. However, I do understand breaking a horse requires patience. Not to mention lifetime lessons aren’t unlearned in a day. I can’t expect him to change who he is at his core but I do expect behavior modifications. I told him this directly. Remember not about tact these days!
Before you menfolk get all snippy with me and say you shouldn’t be with someone if you want to change him, hold the phone! Change may not be the appropriate word but it’s what I used, so lump it. And for hashishes and giggles I’ll give you a personal example. Old Faith was a snarky bish. I’m comfortable admitting that because she is Faith no more. Years of childhood iskabibbles coupled with an undeniable mountain of arrogance created a monster. It hit me one day that if I ever wanted to form lasting connections with people I’d have to change my ways. Not that I needed to change who I was at my core (I’m good peoples) however, my behavior needed a make-over. And now, I’m still sarcastic but I wouldn’t call myself a bish. I understand the importance of treating others with the same respect I expect in return. To get it you gotta give it, works the same way for love, Booyah!
Anywho, I told The Spaniard his leash is short. I’m not walking him and shoveling hashish this time around. Either he wants to be with me, in an adult relationship, or he doesn’t. If he does, act right! And the same rules apply for me.
Ruining a relationship ain’t a one man/woman job, so I’ll take my share of the blame. My issue, I’m a non-confrontational passive-aggressive bottler, look who read a psyche book this weekend! It’s not in my nature to tell someone he hurt my feelings, it seems so wimpy. I’d rather just let the uncomfortableness (not a word) of the moment pass and dictate the resolution.
Example, The Spaniard makes tentative plans with me but never solidifies. Day of said tentative plans I’m stuck in limbo, sometimes he shows and other times he does not. In his mind the plans aren’t concrete so there’s no reason to say boo to me if he doesn’t intend to go through with said plans. In my mind this is not only rude it’s all the way DIRESPECTFUL, caps oh so necessary! Instead of piping up and delivering major o_O (stank eye) coupled with sistah girl tude, I prefer to make other arrangements. Problem averted, partially. Back up plans solve my time issues but don’t cure the underlying disease, his total lack of respect for my time and his commitment to me. It also causes issues if he’s only running late for said tentative plans and he shows up to empty house, restaurant, park…you smell what I’m cooking. In those situations, which happen more often than you may think, I have to deal with his tude. Granted his tude and my tude are way different…I don’t like being ignored. He is the king of ig and it literally drives me to levels of anger I didn’t even know existed.
Seeing red can’t be healthy. Sheesh for a bottler my emotions run high, right? I need to chase my chill pill with a dash of Vodka!
End of the story, we’re both working on making it right. Did I add we’re both stubborn as hell and neither likes admitting wrong?
In any man’s river, The Spaniard asked me to move in with him…
Chello bloggers and blog-ettes I’m back with a little ditty I like to call the Week in Review.
When last we spoke I was battling Hurricane Spaniard. A surly storm that arrived on my shores a few months shy of two years ago. Sad as I am to say it burdens me still. As soon as I think I’ve out maneuvered the storm it loops the corner and hails all over my parade. In this case the Summer O’ Men…causing it to end just as abruptly as it started.
I agreed to have lunch with the Spaniard. After Wander made the waterworks the other week I felt I owed him and largely myself to put whatever we have to bed. Well much like fighting a pre-pubescent boy to shower and a toddler to sleep resolving our hashish wasn’t getting done over one lunch. We met at this quaint French spot that sells the most amazing crepes on 6th and Bainbridge. I can’t remember the name but it matters not.
Over a few savory and sweet crepes we discussed the relationship. A lot of our problems revolve around communication. In addition to him thinking I know exactly what’s going on in his head he has an issue with apologizing. Stubborn much! And granted I’m probably the most arrogant, unapologetically sarcastic person one will ever meet but for folks close to my heart I push those character flaws to the side, most of the time. I recounted the late for the train station incident where I got my ass chewed out by a banshee aka Spaz Manager. And still he didn’t offer an apology. Just coughed up an excuse, he confused the times. If assault weren’t against the law I would have hit him with my glass of water. He’s an asshole, sometimes! We parted ways that day with a hug and peck on the cheek.
Side note: When this man touches me I feel electricity run through my core…this cannot be a good thing.
Since we weren’t together I didn’t expect a gift for my birthday. Actually we’ve been conveniently unattached when my birthday rolls around. In any event I spent the early part of the day with Wander, Pudding Pop and Granny SJ. In the evening Wander took me shopping and I headed home relatively early, 10ish. Around 12 I get a text message from The Spaniard asking me to come downstairs. My first mind said to go downstairs and see what he wants but my second mind said total bad idea. Of course my first mind won this battle and I took the trip down the interior stairs of my apartment and was greeted by 5 or more bouquets of flowers, mostly lilies. Sometimes he’s not an asshole!
I was proud of myself that night because despite raging hormones amongst other things I kept my resolve and sent him on his way with nothing more than a Spank You kindly and a peck on the cheek….ok the lips but you get the point. I left most of the flowers on the doorstep. What was I going to do with 5 bouquets of flowers in my apartment?
After sharing the birthday flowers story with some of my close friends they were all somewhat surprised I didn’t give in. And The Best Friend, always a Spaniard supported was her usual self and told me I was dumb for not blurring the boundaries and taking a short ride on the ho train. Of course sex does not love make, so sometimes her advice is to be taken with a grain of salt.
But I digress.
Pretty Skin faded to the land of obscurity, also known as Never-Never land. By no fault of his own, well maybe a little, but with work and my see-saw appetite for The Spaniard I didn’t have the stomach to digest anymore of PS’ references to me as a man or his otherwise lack of genuine communication skills. I’m sorry I just can’t. Believe me there was no judgment here, I thought and still think some chiquitta will be hella happy to find and refine Pretty Skin. He’s a diamond in need of a little elbow grease.
PS did surface briefly this weekend. I quipped that I hadn’t been discarded to the do not call list. And his response was no but if you think it didn’t contain a man reference you’d be wrong. Ugh! Anywho I asked out of pure curiosity what he was up to this weekend. He responded that he had his daughter Saturday but would be free later in the evening. Clearly my conversation politeness was misconstrued. I told him that I had belated birthday plans with my cousin but I hope he enjoyed his weekend.
Was that rude of me?
Mailroom Boy to my utter surprise crawled from under his you got to be kidding me rock with a happy birthday salute. And believe it or not he was only about two days late despite having a phone reminder. His words not mine. Being late to everything but work is part of his je ne sais quoi…not. I was touched, don’t remember his birthday but that’s beside the point. Once I check out I check out, not that we had anything serious…please check the $14 incident that broke the camel’s back.
Since that time he’s been texting me on the regular. He even sideways mentioned that his daughter asked about me and she never asks about his friends. Hmm, I’m still not interested but am rather impressed that he’s getting his hashish together. Last we spoke Mailroom Boy was living in his aunt’s house, carless and working in the mailroom because it was easy. Now he’s taking classes to get his degree, driving his own car and living by himself. Not too shabby if I do say so myself.
Even Jon B. jumped back on stage for a small cameo in this show I call my life. I cancelled his performance before it could even start though. After the traditional how have you been what have you been up to chatter he asked if I ‘d like to come by on Sunday to “catch up.” Is that what the kool kids call it these days? Considering we’ve only known each other for roughly three months time and about a month of it we had no real communication I’m not sure we have any catching up to do. I mean in my book catching up is reserved for friends you’ve known for years but speak to infrequently because of schedules or proximity of course I could be wrong. Clearly his Kangol is too tight. I told him it was doubtful I’d be stopping by to “catch up.”
I’m seriously considering chucking up the deuces. I think Chris Breezy may have been onto something…all the bullshits for the birds…you judge it!
Labels:
Dating,
Future Husband,
Jamerican,
Jon B,
Mr. Late Night,
Nurse Friend,
Pretty Skin,
Summer 10 Fun,
The Best Friend,
Week In Review,
Weekend Update,
Zack Morris
My new inspiration!!
After my last week of emotional turmoil I was ready to wipe the slate clean. And by clean I mean get rid of excess baggage weighing me down…in other words cut some of the strings on these going no where courtships.
Rounding up the usual suspects, Zack Morris, Trini Man, Jamerican, Jon B and Mr. Late Nite…deleted. This leaves room for a new line up for fall or to decide on my actual feelings for Pretty Skin. Are there feelings there...I’m not sure there are? At the end of the day he’s a nice guy but as we know nice guys finish last. And not for nothing being a nice guy doesn’t automatically enable you to set up residence on the island.
Nice guy = boring guy, the jury’s still out on this one????Of late, I’ve been beating myself up about Pretty Skin. Despite his purple elephant he is what I say I’m looking for…mostly. Considering his elephant, the fact that he has a child is a molehill. And y’all know how I feel about men with children. His lack of a steady tax-paying job, while still wearing fly gear is a bit questionable; I will reserve my accusations for a later date, I saw rubber banded money stacks and had a flashback of younger dumber Faith. I live under the philosophy don’t ask questions whose answers you aren’t prepared for. In this case, if PS responded that he fell back on his ways of old…I’m not prepared to have that type of thing in my life. Been down that road before and don’t want to go back!
Outside of Pretty Skin’s annoying reference to me by male descriptors as in man (I think this is his favorite word) he hasn’t done anything that would suggest booting him off the island. Of course as the Best Friend has told me time and time again, you can’t create feelings where feelings don’t exist. Kissing this man is no more stimulating than writing a check…and mama hates paying bills. There’s no spark. Am I overlooking his sezy? Maybe I need to dig beneath the surface and underneath I’ll find a guy who likes to travel (outside of the neighborhood), enjoys art and all types of music, dabbles in philosophy, not afraid to voice his political opinion and enjoys a scary movie every once and again. That last part is ginormously important. The last two guys I took seriously refused to watch scary movies, punks!
Maybe it’s too soon for me to move on. Maybe I need to fester in the unresolved feelings that I have for the Spaniard.
Anywho, earlier in the month, Pretty Skin invited the chicas and I to his block party. For those out of the know Philadelphia in the summer is block party central. On any given weekend in the city there are probably at least 10-12 city approved and 20-25 unsanctioned block parties happening simultaneously. I was less than enthused but I’d agreed to swing by, a woman of my word. I drug Nurse Friend with me to “enjoy” the festivities.
It was decent for what it was. I expected to see a whole lot of tomf*ckery and hosh*t but the residents kept it to a minimum. Pretty Skin intro-ed me to some members of the family, cool. I met more of PS’ friends (one of which took a strong liking to Nurse Friend, she wasn’t feeling him but the other one was right up her alley…gotta figure out his marital situation) and saw a whole slew of chicks giving mad stank eye (o_0). I had to laugh at this. Chicas chicas chicas it really isn’t that serious if you want Pretty Skin he is yours for the taking, I lay no claim. While he is physically a sight to see I’m rarely swayed, talking potential boo, by a pretty face. I like to know there’s something under the hood worth inspecting.
Side note PS never introduced me to his daughter, I respect him for that even though she was there. No need for introductions when neither of us knows where this is going. And I sensed hella tense vibes when a certain chick of video hoe caliber strolled her way up to his family’s table. Sometimes you can just smell that two people have done the naked mambo, giving out awkward body no touch hugs, you feel me?
The best part of the day was when Pretty Skin’s auntie (I say auntie because she’s from the south) jumped up and started dancing in the middle of the street breaking nothing down but the air. In her mind, she was getting it but what stopped the record for me, Auntie flashing vajayjay…me no likey the vajayjay. By the time everyone started doing line dances a la electric slide I was at my limit.
My friends forewarned the Electric Slide and any of his bastard children are off limits at any function I hold.
Pretty Skin and I parted ways with a single kiss and a hug. Did I ever tell y’all that hugs make me uncomfortable? I always feel presume from the hugger to put some emotion into it and if I’m not digging you my body betrays the lies my face and tongue sometimes tell.
Again no true sparks…I want to fade to black no one else exists and I hear music playing when I kiss him…but I can’t make feeling exist where there are none. With the Future Ex Husband I used to hear this and with the Spaniard I heard this…everyone inspires his own song…I want that feeling back!
This could be a sign or I could be over analyzing, it’s one or the other!
In random news, I ended the night in pain…getting inked. On the inside of my left wrist sits the cutest little super detailed humming bird. How do I plan to explain this to CEO’s of fortune 500 companies…I don’t. My answer to them is simple and all the way ghettofab…stay in ya lane homie and watch ya neck also known as keep your mouth shut and mind your business.
Humming birds stand for peace, love and happiness. I need a large helping of all three. Tattoos are cathartic. When my Pop-Pop passed instead of dealing, I got inked and let the physical pain mask the emotional. Physical pain is easy (for me at least) it stings for a minute, maybe even an hour…emotional pain can last a lifetime. You judge it!
On Tuesday instead of working in the office I opted to work from home because it gave me the opportunity to wear my pajamas all day long. It was great! That is one of the benefits of consulting. My office exists wherever I have Internet access. If ever I find a new position this will be one of the few things I miss about consulting.
If you recall I agreed to “chill” with Jon B on Tuesday evening. In the back of my mind I considered, strongly, cancelling but sometimes curiosity gets the best of me. As you know curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought her back.
I knew what this chilling would entail, hosh*t. Not that I’m above hosh*t because I’m not sometimes but I am somewhat feeling Pretty Skin and Jon B has done the major slide from grace. But who said liking someone was a prerequisite…
Remember that scrumptilicious text pic that made me even consider hosh*t with Jon B, yeah total angle shot but workable. Granted I didn’t really hold up my part of the bargain either, my enthusiasm level was on a 2 out of 10. We ended early and as I pulled away from his cul-de-sac block I waved goodbye and good riddance to Jon B. The feeling was way mutual. Our parting hug spoke for itself. It was one of those trying not to touch you even though I’m touching you kind of things, way awkward. Everyone doesn’t fit with everyone you judge it!
In even more depressing news, the Spaniard crawled from underneath his asshole rock. This is surprising and not surprising simultaneously. His message was true to his form.
Not sure if you tried to reach me or not but I got a new number since I came back home. I just wanted to say hi, see how you’re doing and let you know that I miss you.
Typical!
Let me dissect his message for the sake of running my head into a wall.
Not sure if you tried to reach me or not but I got a new number since I came back home… which actually means he knows I didn’t try to get in touch with him but he had to find a “logical” reason to get in touch with me. You know just in case I needed him for something I’d have to know he had a new number since returning from “our” vacation that he went on alone.
…I just wanted to say hi, see how you’re doing…, yeah sure! What he really wants to know is if I still have enough feelings for him to take a walk on the ho side of life. I don’t!
…and let you know I miss you. LOL. Of course! This is the panty dropping back up! He wants me to believe while he was gallivanting around Spain playing friendly with old chums and family he actually thought about me. Hmmm, I don’t buy it for one second.
I didn’t respond the first day. I couldn’t! Fits of uncontrollable anger welled up in me every time I thought about the text. The Best Friend said I should take the ho stroll, at least I’d be in better spirits…she thinks too physically. Sometimes a roll in the hay is more than a roll in the hay. Nurse Friend said ignore, ignore ignore. My decision was somewhere in the middle.
It’s funny how things change. You know the last time I saw you in person you were talking about marrying me. I’ve been really happy the past few months without you. I’d like to continue that level of happiness. I’m gonna ask you a favor, if there was ever a part of you that cared about me, please don’t call or text me again. I wish you the best.
After sending that text message and deleting traces of his new number from my phone, it felt final.
It was not.
He called…of course! I had the will power to ignore the first. He called again. My will power waned by that point. He asked something in Spanish. He does this from time to time; I used to think it was cute. When we were out, surrounded by groups of people he would speak to me in Spanish and even though I know tons of people speak Spanish it felt like he was speaking just for my benefit.
¿Por qué no me amas?
For those out of the Spanish loop, that means, why don’t you love me…I hate him for this. Cleary he doesn’t recall our last conversations/arguments before his departure to Spain. How I can’t count on him. How he doesn’t respect my feelings. How he doesn’t listen to my wants or desires…bottom-line how he’s a selfish a$$hole.
His selective memory fuels my anger. The argument that ensued was of an epic nature but I won’t go into the details for my own sanity just know by the end he agreed reluctantly to let me have my peace.
Shortly afterwards Jon B sent me a message via yahoo messenger. I was curt. Sometimes the messenger gets shot.
The rest of the weekend, way low key, I mean after that emotionally draining experience the last thing I needed was male female interaction. I hibernated with a few of my closest friends and tried to keep my mind off of the What If Game!
As the summer rounds the bases on fall I’m busy reflecting. Yeah I know that we technically have about 4 more weeks left however, I can smell da rain coming – in my Sofia from
The Color Purple voice. It’s been fun! I accomplished the summer ‘10 goal: meet a bunch of random guys. Gone on plenty of dates and burned more daytime minutes than I care to discuss.
At the same time, I failed. Here’s the thing. I decided that I wanted the summer o’ men out of rebound-ness. Some chose to screw their way out of break-ups I chose to date, po-tey-to/po-tah-to, whichever you prefer! Dating buffet style allows you to sample without over indulging in one flavor, and as we know variety is the spice of life.
This summer I needed He Who Must Not Be Named so removed from my bloodstream that at his name antibodies attacked. It didn’t happen, my body, forever infected by this man! I haven’t built enough immunity to ward off thoughts of him, comparison of him or in general I want him back-ness and it makes me feel weak. And weak much like can’t should never exist in an adult woman’s vocabulary. But maybe its not weak maybe it’s human! How could it be that there exists one absolute feeling that with all my jujitsu defense mechanism I’m incapable of thrashing? Me, the emotion catcher can’t bottle this one man up and let him go to never be spoken/contemplated again. Really I detest the What If game I’ve begun to play.
I played the What If game a lot after Future Ex Husband. What if I never went to that last party? What if I never met Struggling Athlete? What if I was capable of compromise? What if I put my career goals aside? What if I overcame Faith? Those damn What If bandits hit below the belt, and those imps like it!
I’m positive the What Ifs keep me up at all hours of the night thinking about things that I cannot change. And I’m equally positive my thoughts of him are photographs of yesterday that I can’t have tomorrow because time moves forward not in reverse. I understand it, but I don’t have to like it. Not for nothing, the mind also plays a funny game with you, allowing you to fantabulize the past into something it wasn’t. I wasn’t 100% happy with The Spaniard. I wasn’t! Ask any of my friends. But the What Ifs play a role here too. What if 70% happy is enough, how can one be 100% happy? It’s impossible because perfection outside of chocolate doesn’t exist.
So that was a hella long stream of consciousness and randomness I will get into the deets of the week right about now!
As mentioned I’m having a serious problem with sleeping. For whatever reason, I cannot find comfort in my bed, whatever conclusions you can draw from that let me know. Tuesday I avoided plans with Jon B. In the land of ho-ness there are few opportunities. The night I semi passed out was his missed chance at freakiness. Considering his intentional and calculated move from potentially datable to only freakable leave him very few openings for Faith-time. He is feeling the burn as evidenced by his multiple text messages and phone calls dripping of teen spirit aka desperation. He is losing cool points and cuteness simultaneously…a bad look.
In between Jon B’s slide from grace I avoided calls from Zack Morris. He smells of I’m Just Not that Into You! True I like nerds but his ongoing conversations about Sonic Burger and Saved by the Bell make me wonder if he majored in Serial Killer for undergrad. I am no one’s Criminal Minds episode mmkay!
On Friday I had plans with Pretty Skin. It was nothing major just a movie date. It didn’t require actual outfit thoughts, which was good because work shattered most of my brain fabric by mid afternoon. I’m just saying reviewing functions in excel is not my forte.
I met PS at his house, yup still not ready for that know where I live thing. Unfortunately he lives in one of my least favorite neighborhoods in Philadelphia, North Filthy! My siddity came out heavy, initial thought: Is my car safe? I pocketed that thought and pulled up in front of his house with a smile that faded extra quick. Insert doorag stage left. I don’t do doorags worn as fashion…we are not 18 anymore. He eased my irkness by stating that he meant to remove it before he came outside but forgot, then flashed his 1000 watt. I melt for a man with a great smile of which Pretty Skin qualifies. He dressed way casual, but still cute. Did I mention that PS is of the handsome bred that chicks of all ages swoon for, what luck!
We went to see Inception at the Loews in Cherry Hill. That was the first time in a long time that I saw a theater packed. Typically I go to Warrington to see movies to avoid the riff raff from the city. In any event, great movie! We saw the 9:05 showing and midway through the movie the sleep monsters started attacking. The movie was so incredibly good that I fought them off but not without leaning my head on PS’s more than capable shoulders. He gave me both a hand and leg massage during the flick. It felt natural, unrushed and I didn’t move his hand, maybe I like this guy…hmm!
On the drive home we talked about past relationship baggage. This is never good date convo but I guess it had to be done. I told him about my commitment issues, maybe it was too soon! He told me about his ready to settle down stories and how he wants to enjoy all part of being in a committed relationship with one special woman. Cap up, possibly but it did sound good despite my fear of waking up next to the same man every day of the week. We parted ways with a single kiss, nice lips! No sparks though, I fear it has something to do with my earlier ramblings, you judge it.
Shortly after driving off of Pretty Skin’s block I receive a text message from Jon B. I believe these two men have some weird telepathy. Seriously every time I’m talking to one the other calls or sends a text message. And it wouldn’t be so bad if their names didn’t rhyme. I guess that’s the powers that be idea of irony or sarcasm.
Anywho, as expected he was feeling out my chilling inclination! Believe me it wasn’t there. I’d just locked lips with PS and honestly felt some type of way about potentially locking fuglies lips with someone else in little over an hour. Bottom line I wasn’t feeling it, point blank period. I proceeded to tell Jon B a half-truth, that I was too tired to make it out for any “fun.” And it was true in part, you read my randomness above but you didn’t know that I’d been up since 3:30AM staring at the patterns the moon makes on my ceiling, playing the What If game and not winning.
He texted a joke about cuddling that I found funny. Then he texted something semi vulgar that sparked my interest, I shain’t tell a lie but I just didn’t feel like entertaining it. And more importantly I don’t like folk taking the ho stroll unless I’m right there walking the plank with him. I ignored the last message, which sparked a phone call. His voice is like butter, oh my frigging God! After the initial pleasantries he asked when we were getting together again. Earlier in the week I’d learned that Saturday was a no go for him so I said Sunday might be open if he so chose. He told me something about work but possibly switching schedules. I responded that it wasn’t that deep and he should keep his schedule in tact, we ended on Tuesday.
On Saturday I spent the day with Granny SJ, Wander and Pudding Pop, a close cousin. We went to the Hibachi grill. Awesome! I’d never been but upon walking in it reminded me of the Benihana I went to in Toronto. I tasted fried ice cream for the first time, quite an experience. Next week we’re supposed to get together again and hopefully Granny Frannie will be able to go with us as well. It was cool having a three-generation brunch/lunch.
Later that evening I packed a bag and made my way to the Best Friend’s house for her impromptu sleepover. Half of the Doublemint Twins was there along with Nurse Fried. We played truth or dare Jenga for shots of our drinking buddies, Vodka and Rum followed by a rousing game of Scattergories. Between the shots and scattering of Jenga pieces we discussed our favorite topic, men! By night’s or better yet morning’s end there were no conclusions. Men are as easy as they are complicated, and that is my final answer.
The combo of Jenga and Vodka resulted in me falling asleep on the Best Friend’s couch in my clothes. Luckily I was of sound enough mind to wrap my hair in my headscarf. Faith would have been a very unhappy butterfly come morning if this didn’t happen considering I’d just gotten the do tossed on Friday before my date with PS.
By midday Sunday everyone had surfaced with stomachs rubbing their backs. We crowded into a booth at Michaels, ordered breakfast food, bussed each other’s chops and talked men for a couple of hours. This is typical behavior after late nights with the girls.
After brunch I sent a text message to Pretty Skin to see how his trip down south was going to which he responded it was going well. In between my text back to him to ask when he was coming home, a text message came in from Jon B. I told you these two are like conjoined twins or something. I finished my textversation with PS before responding to Jon.
As luck may have it or not Jon B was off early from work and had a few hours to kill. Hmm, oh how I love being someone’s afterthought. It makes me feel all warm and tingling inside. Anywho I explained to him that I was in North Wales and wouldn’t be back to the city for a little while but I’d give him a call if I made it back early. He didn’t get that call. Believe me when I made it back home not even an hour after texting him I thought about calling but bailed on the idea relatively quickly. His windows of opportunity are closing fast…we’ll see what happens Tuesday.
This is the inside of Cuba Libre
Tre-depressing, by Friday I had no concrete weekend plans and with the non-stop workweek I had more than enough tension to work out of my system. Nurse Friend says that everyone deserves two dates. In that same vein, I decided Pretty Skin and I should go bowling. Mom Nature, the wench that she is, vetoed all hope last Sunday with the tree falling curve ball but I set the wheels in place for Friday night. Surprise surprise I’m not always one hundred percent shallow. We did have a good first date, as first dates go, and well Pretty Skin is scrumptilicious despite his purple elephant.
We decided, or more accurately I decided that we’d meet up at North Bowl. I’m not ready to have Pretty Skin in my neck of the woods just yet. As men go he’s in probation. During this phase his position on the island can be revoked at the slightest hint of riding the short bus.
I remember cancelling a guy’s membership for a haircut gaffe. Shallow! In my defense the Nike swosh sideburns were the last straw after he licked my face. No exaggeration, he licked the right side of my face, intentionally. It was a very WTF moment. In hindsight even if he unintentionally licked my face I would have still revoked his privileges. I mean who licks people’s faces? Is that what the kool kids do on the streets, I’m just asking!
Anywho, I left work in enough time to make it home to transform into date suitable attire. After nagging the Little Sister about my shoe selection, I decided on a pair of 3 ½ inch platform stilettos considering Pretty Skin’s lack of height. I aimed to be shorter than him in heels, see I’m capable of compromise.
I arrived at North Bowl shortly after 9:30, to a text message from PS advising he would be about 10 minutes late. Since I was in a fantabulous mood after scoring great parking I didn’t let it irk me and made my way to the bar. It was packed! Luckily I was able to squeeze onto a stool in between two groups of gents at the bar. Neither group was my taste but I wasn’t going to stand for the next ten minutes waiting for PS.
An ashy-footed troll from the group of gents to my left struck up casual conversation. I made it a point to tell him I was in fact waiting for a date aka not interested. He misinterpreted my refusal to be rude as a sign that I was in fact interested. When I repeated my whole I’m waiting for a date he responded, “Where they do that at? Nobody dates anymore! I would have just asked you to come to my house and chill.” I said, “And that would explain why we’re not here together, no offense.” He laughed as if I were joking…I wasn’t. About two minutes later Pretty Skin saved me from tossing a drink. He even offered to say something to the troll but I told him it wasn’t that serious, men and their machismo!
As it turns out my bowling skills are hella rusty. PS wasn’t really all that good but he gave it his best. He did beat me the second game, barely! That almost win didn’t stop him from clowning me for the rest of the night. I can’t stand losing. And good thing for having to switch to bowling shoes because I was TALLER (note the extra emphasis) than him in my heels. This was even more obvious when we parted ways for the evening and he gave me a kiss on the forehead. Way sweet!
Methinks he likes me too much. At one point during the night PS asked if I thought we were compatible. WTH, don’t throw curve balls buddy! We’re not ready for those types of conversations I just wanna enjoy the summer without considering folks feelings. Feelings are for the winter.
On Saturday Nurse Friend and I decided we would hit up a party at Marathon Grill on 10th Street. We were determined to get out of the house earlier than our usual 11:30 starts. It actually happened. We were out the door by 10, booyah! As we drove down Walnut Street I swear I saw tumbleweed blew out the door of the Marathon Grill so we switched plans mid stride to Old City.
Since Mom Nature wasn’t riding the crimson wave, we were able to grab a table outside at Continental in perfect earshot of the fantabulousness of Cuba Libre. I ordered some yummy (technical term) margarita with flavored watermelon and something else I couldn’t quite make out. Nurse Friend ordered a cherry inspired margarita but didn’t like it. I ended up drinking both and ordering another watermelon and a bay breeze before the night was over. To say I was toasty is an understatement hence the intentional hosh*t.
Midway through the night I get a text from PS. He wanted to know why I hadn’t called him. Clearly I was unaware that my phone is the only one between the two of us that has outgoing call capabilities. Either way, I wasn’t about to have Pretty Skin monopolize and cockblock my weekend. One day was more than enough Faith time for him. Besides I wouldn’t have been able to wear the uck me pumps I wanted with his dwarfness. I ignored his last text message and kept on drinking.
I still got it! Judging by the dude who tripped over the chair and the two or three gents whose necks met with their girlfriend’s hands, I am still a hot commodity. I even pulled a number or two from some random passersby of none importance.
Around 11:40ish Jon B crept from underneath his weekend rock and asked what I was doing and if I wanted to get together. Insert intentional hosh*t here, Wander you should consider this the end of the blogpost for you mmkay! I let him know that I was boozing it up with my girls, he was welcome to join or I could meet him later after we left Old City but it would probably be after 2AM. His response, cool he could be my naughty little plaything…hmm curiosity way high. Me thinks that was the tequila talking…or not!
After some scandelicious texts back and forth and a slight nudge, I want you so bad right now, I decided it was in my best interest to give Jon a whirl. Insert intentional hosh*t stage left. I agreed to “chill” with him after Nurse Friend and I left Old City.
Between drinks, Nurse Friend wrangled a number of an interesting gentlemen who proceeded to cockblock the remainder of the evening. I wasn’t too upset though because remember I was on my way to be someone my momma didn’t raise. Two drinks later, at 2AM we trotted back to Nurse Friend’s car. It was a good night!
Nurse Friend pulled up to my apartment a little after 2:30AM. Instead of hoping right into my car I decided to go upstairs and change clothes. The next thing I remember was waking in my party clothes with mascara smeared on my pillowcase…so much for hosh*t!
Hindsight being 20/20, that was probably for the best, although I must admit Jon B peaks my carnal curiosity for a number of reasons…
This is what it actually looked like on Sunday, I wasn't being completely vain!
This past week has been relatively quiet and kind of boring on the dating front. I’m not mad at it though I need a chance to catch my breath and think some things through. Seriously I will dig into the details in a second.
It was a hellacious workweek for me. As we turn the corner on the end of this project I am suddenly worried about what and where my next assignment will be. This is normal consultant angst. After spending a quarter of the year out of the country it’s been lovely being stateside, hell it’s been fantabulous sleeping in my own bed. Hotel rooms are overrated, believe me even the real swanky ones with the raindrop glass enclosed showers overlooking the bedroom. I enjoyed some nights with the Spaniard once or twice I won’t tell a t-waddy (lie)!
Remind me that I’m not allowed to mention his name on the blog anymore. I ‘d appreciate a virtual slap the next time it occurs, mmkay!Sometime in the middle of the week Virtual Java (VJ – he’s a lawyer and a solder booyah) sends me an e-mail. He was shooting the hashish, you know catching up on all things Faithtastic with sprinkles of the ins and outs of his life. I’ve always wondered how he looks in a suit. Random I know! I have these moments. It would make more sense to you if you knew although I worked with VJ for quite some time I’ve never actually seen him in person. It’s funny how friendship works.
Anywho I’ve always wanted to see VJ in action, not the soldier action because that would be a scosh on the dangerous side and might involve ruining a pair of my uck me pumps. We know that’s not going down! Maybe one day we’ll get that cup of java in the flesh especially since he can’t offer me any near the grave rich men to front my shoe habit. Shame on him! Even without the sugar daddy, it was nice to hear from Virtual Java. I smiled midday. That never happens!
In the land of gentleman callers, Pretty Skin blew up my phone all damn week. Clearly his lack of a job provides a little too much free time. In general I’m not a phone person. This is a byproduct of half my workday spent gabbing. Most of the conversations drain my chitchat for the uck of it-ness! I must give him the gold star for effort though. He makes sure to send little how you doing text messages throughout the day, you know just checking to see if I still have a pulse. PS would probably make a decent boyfriend minus his purple elephant if that’s what I was looking for, but it is the summer o’ men. Even with the small dry spell this week I mustn’t lose focus.
After playing phone tag, mostly me avoiding PS’ calls, I agreed to have date two, bowling on Sunday afternoon. As luck may have it Mother Nature, disrespectful tramp, blessed us with a storm by mid afternoon requiring a schedule adjustment to the coming weekend. He seemed genuinely disappointed but with whipping rain, falling trees and torrential winds I wasn’t risking my hair to the element. Before you ask, yes it’s like that! Me, Thunderstorm and that biotch Humidty aren’t on speaking terms.
Between my calls with PS I took one or two from Italian Stallion whose name is forever changed to Zack Morris (gold star and a cartwheel for you if you know what late 80’s- early 90’s tv show that comes from), a more appropriate fit. He’s nice in a date a dork kind of way, which isn’t inherently bad for me because I like nerds…insofar as they don’t look like nerds. Pocket protectors and suspenders are against my religion.
My issue, be prepared I’m about to say something racial. I don’t date white guys who’ve never dated black girls. I’m no one’s test run! Popping cherries t’aint my forte and I really don’t wanna have to explain my headscarf. A date might clear this air but so far I’ve skated around the notion of us sitting in front of a whole meal of food. I fear this dance won’t last long and right now he’s more out than in.
Jon B was incognegro for majority of the week. He sent a few feeler text messages and we had a couple two-minute phone calls, nothing like our hours long convos from weeks past. This wasn’t all his doing. His purple elephant wears bright neon tights and a yellow hat to match. The sideways ex chatter is a little much for me. I mean I looked at an old picture of he who must not be named this past week but I quickly regrouped and put on the strong face. Jon B needs to man up. If he wants his ex back, me tinks he does, call that trick and make it happen, otherwise toss up the deuces!
On Sunday JB called a little before 10PM asking if we could grab a drink. Hmm…based on the lack of enthusiasm in my voice I’m going with a strong no. And he so violated the don’t call me while True Blood is on rule. Hun-nay please! Noteworthy he shows up consistently every Sunday, I wonder what that’s about? He did say he really wants to see me…that sounds like one-eyed sailor speak to me. You judge it.
Picture of the actual place in East Falls
By end of business on Friday I was more than ready to call it quits. After working with Texas on a few of my more recent assignments I ended up shackled to him again for a portion of the work on my current project. Clearly the work gods are not friends with me on Facebook. If they handed out degrees for jumping on my last nerve Texas would graduate summa cum laude! And that might actually be an understatement.
Earlier in the day the Realtor sent me the list of three properties we’d scope out after I was finished working. It was a toss up whether I was going to walk or catch a cab. I’ve decided that close proximity to my office and downtown Philadelphia is one of my more important must haves for my new place in addition to ample closet space. When I stepped outside Humidity damn near stole my will to live, cab it was. In better weather the trek to Northern Liberties or in this case slightly below Northern Liberties on the outskirts of not the greatest neighborhood wouldn’t be half bad and good exercise. But in the butt blazing heat I just wasn’t making it happen. In any event we looked at the three places, none keepers and parted ways in front of my office. The Realtor was nice enough to drop me off, must be the commission!
By the time I made it home from condo searching it was 7:15. I’d agreed to have Pretty Skin pick me up around 8ish but that would be cutting it too close. Besides the fact that I wasn’t too keen on the idea of him knowing where I live. Shoot I didn’t really know why he was in the in bing, this is slang for jail carry on. I made a quick call and told PS since it was getting later than anticipated I would meet him wherever he decided we were having dinner.
We met at Johnny Manana’s on Ridge Avenue in East Falls. Even though I live a hop, skip and a jump away from there I’d never been. And he gets a gold star because I heart American Mexican food. Yes that’s ridonkulous I know but authentic Mexican food is prepared with corn meal, which I don’t particularly care for but American Mexican is made with flour and I likes me some flour. Digressing a bit I know right!
Anywho, the date was alright, to scale it, probably a 6.5. The conversation with PS was easy but I needed to get the 411 on this whole jailhouse experience. For a minute I thought he was trying to avoid the pink elephant but he says, could be a cap up one never knows, he doesn’t like to talk about his past self because that’s not who he is anymore. I can dig it; especially since his past self distributed street pharmaceuticals. He said he deserved his five-year punishment and he would never do anything to find himself in that situation again.
What the deuces do you know how much has changed in the past five years – shoot that’s a lifetime in cell phone technology?
He seemed genuine but uh I’ve seen half an episode of Oz and I can’t get down with the get down if you know what I’m saying! Oh and then the other two bombshells of the night, he has a 9 year old daughter from a jump off…not even a relationship and that architectural firm, he was the equivalent of Mailroom Boy’s supervisor, it figures! But the icing on the cake, no job right now but I guess this is to be expected. He is a barber, unlicensed, so that’s his current hustle until he gets a legitimate tax-paying job. At least he’s actively searching, that’s a lot more than I can say for some folks I know who will remain nameless…Little Brother!
After all those details my head was spinning and I asked if we could end the night a bit early. PS seemed slightly disappointed but whatevs, in actuality I was all types of tired and I had some serious thinking to do. Besides siddity Faith started rearing her ugly mug and I didn’t want to go there with this gent just yet. Despite his checkered past, which he was very honest about, we had a relatively decent mini date. He was easy to talk to, could hold a decent conversation and he laughed at my oddball jokes. I’m a nerd at heart folks!
When I got home I de-clothed, sent a text message to PS letting him know I got home safe and thanked him for dinner, washed the slight make-up off my face and said, DAMN! No literally that’s what happened. Nothing a good night’s sleep and a small prayer wouldn’t help, right! I woke the next morning and said, I’m going to see how things play out, cautiously with Pretty Skin. I mean he didn’t directly kill anyone right?
Saturday plans grab a quasi-expensive gift for Male Nurse Friend (MNF) and make it to his birthday BBQ. By mid day this plan was all but a memory. I had no motivation. For whatever reason, maybe the hellish workweek or the exhaustion that sprouts from maintaining too many gentleman callers was catching up with me. Believe it or not I’m not as young as I used to be!
In any event I opted for a card and a gift certificate to Dave N Busters for MNF. When I drove to his apartment there was no parking, after looping three times I called it quits and drove back home. I know that probably was wrong (it ain’t like his non showing butt hasn’t stood me up on a number of occasions) but I really wasn’t in the mood for the queens he invited anyway.
Earlier that day I’d texted Jon B to see if we were still on for True Blood. By 11PM I had no response so I figured that was the end. Damn I really read that man’s intentions wrong. My dating wheels need some oil I guess.
On Sunday I rose early and cleaned the apartment. Since I’m not traveling I’m back to my normal weekend scrub the home routine, me likes. I sparked up a random conversation with Italian Stallion around 3ish and in the middle Jon B called, now what woodwork did he crawl out of? I ended up calling him back around 6:30, you know just to see what excuse he’d give for doing a no call no show.
Apparently his ex called to let him know he can no longer be involved in her daughter’s life. He was devastated and needed some time to himself to decompress. Hmmm…pretty janky on her part and all types of effed up for her daughter considering Jon B is the only father the girl’s ever known. He seemed to be taking it quite hard. I thought I heard him choking back some tears. I offered him some words, I mean what else was there to do and told him to get back to me when he felt he was up for company. I don’t feel like I need to make any effort here. Red flags are busting out of the seams on this one!
After returning from vacation I settled back into my life of working until 8 at night. Old habits die hard people. But before you go all ape shit on me I was able to squeeze in some me time. And by me time I mean I was a regular chatty Cathy with a bunch of the gents from the summer line up.
Jon B and I were communicating quite well. We chatted every night before I went to bed making his the last voice I heard before shuteye. As the boys go he was making quite the impression. Every night was a new discovery of things we have in common, writing, music, politics etc etc etc. The cautious Faith inside says this man is too good to be true. I must keep his red flags front and center and of course remember he is one amongst in the summer o men.
By midweek it was clear a third date/get together was oh so necessary with Jon B. We agreed since he’d missed all but the season premiere of True Blood he’d come over Sunday early afternoon to get caught up on the older episodes and stay for the new one. I was schoolgirl giddy which is a sharp contrast to my cool as the other side of the pillow demeanor.
The Best and Nurse Friend said that with him coming over I’d most definitely lose our summer bet. The summer bet, Wander earmuffs, that for every week we go without having sex we have to add five dollars to the pot. At the end of the summer, if we all make it we’ll collectively use the money toward some group fun. If there’s only one frustrated chica left standing, she wins the pot. Oh yeah Wander you can de-earmuff now!
Unfortunately after setting up our date all communication ended between Jon B and I. No responses to my two feeler text messages. True I’m knocking the rust off my dating skills but I didn’t think I was that far removed. I thought I was reading his signs very well I mean how else should one take goodnight beautiful I will talk to you tomorrow. Clearly these days that’s code for I’m just not that into you! Such as life!
My initial reach out to Pretty Skin was via text. He was surprised to hear from me. That night at Copa I didn’t give him my number. Instead I elected to take his and ponder some more if I can stomach the whole I’ve been home from jail for 6 months. Hmm….if this ain’t a red flag I don’t know what is. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of dating or co-mingling with ex-felons. Of course before we judge a man by his past actions we must first know what those past actions entail. I mean the man did say, before getting caught in his double life, that he worked at an architectural firm in the city. He has the potential to jump right back on his feet, right? I decided to schedule an official first date with him Friday you know just to get a little more of his felony story.
My Friday was looking quite packed. Before agreeing to the date with Pretty Skin I’d set up to some time with the realtor to look at some properties in the city. This is my final step into adulthood. I figure it’s time to own something or let me rephrase pretend to own something while the banks sucks the life energy from my paycheck. I assume after I sign all that paperwork the last ounce of anything kid will ooze out of my body. I’m just assuming. The condos were nice but not what I’m looking for. The Realtor got a kick out my many jokes about boys and deduced that my square footage restriction will be 1200sq feet of mostly closet space. I need somewhere to house all these shoes and clothes and what not.
Anywho I bailed on my Tuesday date with Argyle Freak. He just wasn’t my cup of tea so I sent him off the island never to be heard of again. A-freaking-mazing body and all didn’t wool my eyes from his true intentions. Curiosity has in the past made me do some not mama proud things but I’m not 19 hell I’m not even 24 anymore so I can’t blame poor life decisions on being young and dumb. I’m sure someone else will fall victim to Argyle’s abs of steel.
I had random not sure if they are going anywhere conversations with Mr. Late Nite, Jamerican, Italian Stallion and Trini Man. Yeah I know I sprung some names on y’all but they are in the background dudes that I’m not sure will make it to prime time.
We called it a night around 2ish. I ignored the bouncer’s attempts to woo and walked back to the car unscathed by his advances with my girls. We’d decided to crash at The Best Friend’s house, alls yeah an impromptu sleepover.
Clearly we, me and The Best Friend that is, were not up for the challenge of the sleepover because as soon as I had hair in scarf my eyes closed. I was down for the count. And I do mean the count since I didn’t wake up until well after 12 in the afternoon. Now that’s not something I typically do, y’all know my battle with that biotch, Insomnia.
Anywho, Nurse Friend met the Best Friend and I at our favorite diner in North Wales. Since we’d canceled our trip to Ocean City due to inclement weather we needed to replace that with some equally fun thing for Saturday night. Ended on gambling in Chester. Not exactly the best replacement but we were working with limited options. And I really wasn’t in the market for hanging out in the city again. Don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with the city, I mean I hearts the city in a major way but I’d played the city ticket all week and wanted to spice it up a bit.
Harrahs in Chester was just going to have to do. We parted ways for a few hours, so I could catch up on some e-mail from work and Nurse Friend needed to meet her family for her mom’s birthday celebration. By 9ish Nurse Friend was on her way to scoop me up so we could meet the Best Friend. My bestie was on point for driving since I’d played designated the night before.
Needless to say I didn’t win any money. Well let me not tell a lie. I won about $120 dollars but I ended up giving it all back to the casino. Nurse Friend did tell me to cash out once I was up but I just didn’t listen...hindsight is 20/20. Not counting the $120 that I gave back I only really lost about thirty bucks of my hard earned cash so I’m not gonna complain. Did you know they still have penny machines? It was a bunch of blue haired ladies with ciggies (cigarettes) and drinks pulling slots anxiously watching pennies (yes I said pennies) fluctuate.
Some troll at the bar kept making impromptu eye contact and I wasn’t feeling any of that. No cuties that night, but considering the growing roster that might not be a bad thing. My thought, summer o’ men should include a man for every day of the week. Is that being greedy?
Casino security harassed us for taking pictures, ugh what janky rules. I was actually told I needed to delete any photos, me thinks not! Oh did I forget to mention the drink The Best Friend spilled on me, and she wasn’t even drunk.
During our stint in the casino I could have sworn I saw Jon B saunter by with a less than attractive chic-let, competition. I like competition. Part of me wanted to swing by him so he’d see my hotness in comparison to the dud he had on his arm…jealousy maybe. Of course it might not have been him, or was it!
Once we’d gambled away our hard earned thirty bucks apiece we made our way to the car. I switched into some flip-flops for the ride home but not before we got our Ciara on in the parking lot dancing for no one but ourselves and laughing all the way. This is what I love about my friends always up for acting 12!
Overall the weekend was great! I hadn’t decided if I was ready to deal with Pretty Skin’s issue, if I would see Argyle Freak on Tuesday or when I’d catch up with Jon B. Of course there was Mr. Late Night in the background. Clearly this is going to be a productive summer!
Side note I had a very very interesting Sunday night text, cell phone and webcam conversation with Jon B. Spank him kindly for the oh so tasty pictures. Maybe he won’t stay in the friendzone. Only time will tell!
I was feeling slightly tipsy when I left the bar, way irresponsible I know. Since I hate waking up with alcohol on the tummy I decided to stop at the Wawa on Germantown Avenue in Mt. Airy to grab something quick to coat my stomach. Believe me the Wawa is a regular meat market after last call, not my intentions for going but eye candy is nice at any time of day or night.
There were a couple of cuties I saw giving me the eye when I was ordering my food but I didn’t pay it any mind. I quickly grabbed my slip from the counter and went to pay for my items. Mr. Late Nite was in front of me in the line. He turned around, nice shoulders, and said, “Damn you smell good. What is that you have on?” Never one to disappoint a fan I responded that I was wearing Chanel Chance. He said something like he was going to add it to his personal memory because it smelled amazing! Spank him kindly.
When I went to the counter to retrieve my sandwich Mr. Late Nite was still standing there. He started asking the usual questions one ask when he wants to secure another’s phone number. I began tabulating in my mind whether he could be added to the roster of summer potentials. My decision, yes for those shoulders alone he could gain admittance on the island.
Mr. Late Nite walked me to my car so we could exchange numbers. For whatever reason I’d left my cell in the car. Once at the car, I could see Jon B was calling. Probably checking to make sure I’d made it home, so sweet. Anywho I picked up the phone because I didn’t want Jon B to think I’d careened off the side of the road. Mr. Late Nite was quiet while I chit chatted and asked Jon if I could give him a buzz once I was settled and in the house.
After I hung up, Mr. Late Nite asked who I was talking to, to which I responded, some dude. I’m not into lies people and I don’t owe either one of these gents anything. Mr. Late Nite said he liked how smooth I handled the situation and respected me for not lying. Why lie? Either way we exchanged numbers and I made my way home. By the time I got settled it was around 2:30ish. I called Jon B back, promises must be kept, and we talked until about 4. By that time my eyelids were heavy and I had to get some sleep to prepare for ladies weekend.
Friday was packed with an ish load of errands. I woke up and cleaned the kitchen and bathroom while I waited for The Little Brother to come home with my car. I finished reorganizing my room, you know de-Spaniardizing. Once The Little Brother was home I made my way to the hair salon to get my do tossed. Side note my hair is on a growth spurt and I like it. I was slightly annoyed that my stylist was overbooked and I ended up waiting for several hours, the usual but for whatever reason I was irked.
After leaving the shop I headed down to the Urban Outfitters on 36th and Chestnut to see if I could pick up something cute for the night. Originally the Best and Nurse friend decided on Cuba Libre in Olde City but to be honest I wasn’t feeling salsa all night long, papichulos yes salsa no! In any event I was able to convince the girls that a nice low-key night out was far better. We agreed to go to Copacabana on 40th & Spruce. Side not I didn’t even wear the outfit I picked up out that night instead I opted for an oldie but goodie from my closet.
At first Copa was looking dead. I almost regretted my not so subtle suggestion of forgoing Cuba Libre. Once we got to the door we realized it was in deed in rare form inside, great! The doorman was giving me the eye but I wasn’t returning the favor. Sorry friend just not my type but he was nice and he carded us so my still looking under 21 card is still in effect, fantabulous!
The music was knocking; this is slang for good, carry on. The DJ spun a good mix of oldies and new school hip-hop and r&b. The vibe in Copa was nice. I ordered my signature and my friends ordered there’s. We were partying with our best friends, Vodka and Rum. Sometimes that’s all you need. Mid way through the evening Pretty Skin (PS) asked if he could join our trio.
My initial reaction was to blow him off because this was in fact girls night out but I had to remind myself, quickly, that it is also the summer of men. I didn’t want to be a cock blocker. Not to mention the man is easy on the eyes. He’s not what I would call a charmer but he did make me laugh a bit especially when Nurse Friend refused to shake his hand. He asked her if she was protecting herself from H1N1. Y’all know I have issues with shaking as well however I was fully prepared to anti-bacterial my hands once he left.
For whatever reason Nurse Friend was being a bit of a ball buster, not typically her lane. We reserve the busting of balls especially for The Best Friend. But I guess everyone has her night. At some point during the conversation that ice wall Nurse Friend was building came tumbling down. Could it have been the Vodka, one never knows. She was most definitely feeling a little nice because when PS asked her the best part of her former relationship she said the SEX. I almost spit out my drink for laughing so hard. No shocker to me being her friend and all but I was real horriprised sort of like seeing your grandparents knocking knees that she even said something like that to him.
Eventually PS asked if he could get my number. Before he revealed his little secret I was all ready to pony up, if he was in fact interested in me. There were three of us at the table all equally attractive; I can’t be that vain chick to think every guy wants me. In my mind they do but that is beside the point.
Anywho the man’s skin was glowing. I mean his skin was so smooth and so medium chocolate-esque I considered touching his face but I thought it might be rude. The Best Friend just came out and said something like you know your skin is gorgeous. She ain’t never told a lie! In any event I took his number to mull over if I can deal with his issue before he left us to return to his friend.
My highpoint of the night was when Nurse Friend stormed back to the table from the bathroom. As it turns out some sloppy whores where screwing some dude in the ladies room. Side note they could have been doing lines but me doubts it from the way they walked out, no eye contact after The Best Friend knocked on the door po-po style. Pretty Skin offered to watch the door while Nurse Friend used the men’s room. Now wasn’t that nice of him, trying to earn brownie points!
This will be the summer of men no doubt. If you speak these things into the universe sometimes the universe will give you what you want in return. Someone up there is smiling down on me….and I likes it!
So I had a double booking on Thursday night. An early test the waters with Argyle Freak and a late night chit chat with Jon B. I was looking forward to both for different reasons. To get up to speed read the
prior post.
As luck or fate may have it, Argyle was way late getting back to me about what time we should meet up so I cancelled our plans in my mind. By 9PM it was entirely too late to squeeze him in before Jon B. Jon B and I were tentatively scheduled to meet for drinks at 11PM. Around 9:40ish Argyle sent a text message about just joining him at his house…hmm late night with Shemar Moore look-a-like probably not the best first date experience. Wander didn’t raise no hussies round these parts.
Immediately texted Argyle back and let him know I made other plans because he’d gotten back to me too late in the day. Clearly he was on his period because he threw a small tantrum. Men with women’s mood swings aren’t attractive however did I tell you how a-freaking-mazing Argyle’s body is…concessions can be made. After his b*tch-fit subsided we agreed to meet up Tuesday. Side note I am strongly considering kicking this one off the island though. I mean there is but so much concession in me and well, this is the summer of men. He is one amongst.
Jon B got stuck at work later than anticipated, I truly dislike waiting for people, and we didn’t end up meeting until 12:30. Did I forget to mention that Benson (my cat) destroyed the orange sweater I was going to wear? Part of me wanted to kick the cat but I decided against it.
Anywho we met at the Tavern on the Hill in Chestnut Hill. I ordered my usual, vodka and cranberry with a splash of pineapple. It is my signature drink. Jon B ordered Absolut on the rocks no chaser, a man’s drink. Granted I hadn’t had much food, when it’s hot outside I tend to eat less food it makes me hot or something, but my damn was that drink strong. After a few sips I was feeling a little too nice. I decided to nurse it for the rest of the evening as to not sound borderline retarded while holding conversation with the man.
We conversed about a number of things in particular legalizing drugs, great date convo I know. We debated the pros and cons and came to a general consensus that if alcohol is legal, also a drug, then why not open the lid on controlled substances. One of the early benefits of legalizing drugs would be a swift decline in the crime rates, mainly because trafficking won’t be considered a punishable offense. Two, there is already a market of highly intelligent salesmen and women to continue distribution. Three, and this is the one that should have wayward politicians skeeting in their seats, we could solve a lot of the social ills with the taxes collected from the sale and distribution of said controlled substances. I’m just saying, please don’t hate me for my politics. Consider this, you can never solve a supply and demand problem by attacking the supply.
Slightly before 2ish the barkeep yelled for last call. I was still nursing that extra strong drink and Jon B was yawning something vicious, not because of me but he’d worked a 13hr shift. We parted ways with a hug and his casual we should do this again soon. Hmm I’m feeling friendzone at this point, what do y’all think?
As I mentioned this summer is going to be the summer of men. OK maybe I didn’t mention the summer of men; maybe I told Nurse and Model Friend about the summer of men, whatevs consider this the formal notice!
In an effort to maximize my seven-day vacation I packed a ton of fun things into the week. As a result I’m now double booked! Double bookings are not uncommon in the world o’ singles. Considering I’m slightly rusty dare I say out of practice navigating out of the double booking is becoming quite tricky. Feelings could get hurt, not to mention ruin my free dinner invites in the recent future.
My dilemma is simple. I like Jon B. We’ve chatted it up all week since date numero uno. He’s…mature. Now I know that’s not typically something that people swoon over but I genuinely enjoy hearing his perspective on things. He’s really mellow and I like that. Oh did I mention the butter smooth voice, booyah! He wants to do late night din din with drinks tonight after he gets out of work….I wanna go blog friends.
On the flip side of the house is Argyle Freak. Now I wasn’t too sure about this one early on. Officially we haven’t had our first date due to some scheduling conflicts but he’s sezy. Now when I say sezy I mean if Halle Berry and Shemar Moore had a love child he would be it. His body, A-freaking-mazing! He looks great in round the way boy clothes and a suit, hence the Argyle part of his moniker. He definitely gets the blood pressure elevated but me-thinks he’s in it for the a$$. Not my style friend so I’m leery, but can’t deny very very curious.
Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought her back right!
WWOFD aka What Would Old Faith Do, in my dating past I would schedule an early day date with Argyle Freak and late night dining with Jon B. My first reason for this, I trust myself more during the daytime in public places. Second, if Argyle Freak lives up to his name and I have to deliver a quick shot to his Johnny Rockets I’d want to end the night in buttery voice bliss with Jon B. This seems 100% practical to me.
So I’m jumping back into the dating game feet first. Feet rather than head because head implies over thinking things and I’ve already been there and done that.
The first summer prospect is Jon B. Jon B is all types of scrumptilicious for a number of reasons but the first is because when I see him I think of Jon B. Yes I had a thing for Jon B’s buttery voice back in the day. Maybe it was the way he sang those ballads all Babyface-like that made me melt. Maybe it was a his undeniable good looks, whatever it was I was way into Jon B back in the day. Not that my Jon B is the Jon B, although he used to be a hip-hop group some time ago.
Second Jon B also has the best phone voice this side of the Philly! When he called to let me know he’d be 15 minutes late for our Starbucks meet and greet I nearly crashed Juan The 2nd.
Prior to this our convo had been completely e-mail, Yahoo messager, text chat Yuppers it’s a sezy phone voice…could come in handy on those travel away from home trips.
We had our official first date at the Starbucks in Chestnut Hill. As first dates go, on a scale from 1-10 I’d rate it a 6.5, outside of the Ex Future Husband I’ve never had a 10 first date. There was something all types of special about that boy. The convo flowed, Jon B didn’t seem in any way socially awkward and he’s a smart ass, which is right up my alley. I can see myself chillaxing with him again in the near future.
Since life rarely hands you a dozen roses without thorns there were a couple Debbie Downers. Now they weren’t earth shattering but time will tell if I can deal. The man, 34, lives with his father. Hmmm, I listened to the “reasons” and found them totally logical however it doesn’t change the fact that Jon B lives with his daddy and he’s a grown a$$ man.
Who am I to complain, The Little Brother cohabitates so this might be the pot calling the kettle.
I’m sensing the possibility of male patterned baldness. He was wearing a cute Kangol, not the grand pappy one but the fitted kind that all the hip-hop heads wear, side note it was way cute. Y’all know I loves me some hair to run my fingers through. I’ve never dated a bald guy before my system might go into shock. Yes this is way superficial but come on now I’m a work in progress OK.
Jon B is still paying some bills for his ex. Red flag, I think yes! As he tells it, he is the only father figure his ex’s daughter has and he doesn’t want her to go without even though he is not with her mother. Awl that sounds all helping elderly people across the street sheltering stray kittens-esque but in the my mind it also signifies deep unresolved emotional ties to his ex, whether Jon B’s willing to admit it or not.
At the end of the day I’m not looking for a relationship so these few items aren’t gonna stop me from going out with him again. Oh did I mention we dig on the same type of music. He’s way into olde skool hip hop and r&b. This is right up my alley. I sense a live music partner in the making. Of course it doesn’t hurt that he’s sort of a Baldwin (ha ha I was watching Clueless the other day and will be bringing this back to my linguisticals for hot guy).
