I’d just wound myself down for the evening. Camped out in my bed donned in glasses, a laptop, a good book and a few magazines. I was on my Friday late night nerdy flow working on a synopsis when he called.
This guy would be some slick street name that I didn’t even remember. I tried to run my usual pimp move and ask him, “How do you spell your name again?” But he called me on it and I wasn’t shamed. Gotta make me want to remember you.
Why does it always work like this? When you’re not concerned about the whole boo’d up thing or want to be involved with someone men come out of the woodwork starving to be put on. Even though I’m less than interested most times every now and then I do stop my flow to take a look at the options. In this particular case I was just bored as hell and needed to do something different. This dude spends at least fifteen minutes hinting around about seeing a late night movie. He’d done it before and I ignored him but decided to help him be assertive this time…yawned and blurted, “Ok ill go to the movies with you.” Guess I caught him by surprise because he paused for a couple seconds before stuttering, “Oh ok that’s what’s up.” (Go see Stepbrothers. Hilarious!)
So we meet up and he already has the tickets. Not only did I forget his name I didn’t remember his features either. I met and chatted with him through a cloud of patron and winter fresh gum on our first encounter at MJQ (rave spot). Nonetheless I prepared myself for the worst and promised to laugh at him after we parted if he was not so good looking lol. If so I’d deserve it. The perfect payback for meeting men under the influence of the evil one in a glass when I knew better.
I donned sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt as I dialed his number to see what lucky man would ring me his way. Ok. So. He wasn’t butt ugly but he still reminded me of one of those little troll dolls that I obsessed over as a youngin. He had scattered patches of hair tracing his jaw bone and chin. His not so good attempt to grow a beard? Who knows. He was my height. (I’m 5’1). I’m not knocking short dudes…actually I know a few fine ones – but you gotta at least be taller than me if only by an inch. I don’t wanna feel like I’m hugging my damn self! I gave him a loose gripped hug and we headed toward the theatre. As we’re walking he fans his hand toward the concessions and asks, “You want something babe?” I didn’t answer right away because I was stuck in a web of sheer horror and nausea when I saw his CLAWS! I was on a date with Edward effin scissor hands yo!
I eventually managed to shake my head “no” as little tingles ran up my spine and pricklies played hop scotch on my arms. Certainly he had a reason for not cutting his dirt traps, or maybe used that hand for something special. Surely a man wouldn’t cherish his nails so much that he’d let them grow over an inch long. (shaking head) At least get a french manicure. He kept asking me where I wanted to sit and I honestly didn’t care. I just prayed he wouldn’t grab my hand. I tried to text the terror to Kimora but he was all in my shyt and even had the nerve to say, “You’re doing work at midnight? You work a lot.” His kind and gentle way of suggesting that he wanted my undivided attention and preferred not to share it with my phone. What ever… Cut ya nails ninja.
During the entire movie I leaned the opposite way and crossed my leg the same. Aside from the occasional thoughts of him accidentally scratching me and dying right there in theatre I was ok. When the movie was over I jetted quick when he started hinting about going somewhere else. Hell no scratch n sniff! I don’t even know if he realized how much his lack of claw clipping was costing him on his quest for pirate’s booty cause this pirate was setting sail never to be seen again.
He didn’t call me and I didn’t call him. The ILK factor was so thick in the air that I’m sure he could smell it and got the hint.
What a freak.
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