Eric (name change) rang me around midnight the night before. I so happened to be knocked out on a Saturday night. A night where most kids my age are out frolicking the streets of Atlanta swaddling to and fro, partaking in guilty pleasures. Hunting for new prey…you know the usual stuff. Which reminds me that I may need to get out soon before the warm days turn to freezing nights…perhaps even sooner than next Wednesday when I do lunch with Kimora & Nik. For the sole purpose of oggling over Nik’s new found love and bun in the oven and in celebration of being one man short of the, “These dudes are killin me!” bitchin’ crew. Kimora’s probably next because I’m too stuck in my ways to be anyone’s anything right now. But back to Eric…I’m getting off topic lol.
Finally caught up with him yesterday and the first thing he said was, “Mannnnnn.” I immediately started laughing, but not too hard – afraid I would mess up the fresh manicure I volunteered to give myself. Part of my new found, “Treat my duckets like the Jewish do,” plan for financial success. “What the hell?” I asked between chuckles. Deep down I missed him a lot and wish he were still here.
Rewind a week ago when we were talking about life in his newly settled habitat up top. I asked him about the dating scene and the women; shortly after advising him to be careful since the HIV stats there were the worst ever. (I’ve been on this HIV phobia shyt ever since I’ve been doing research for my book lol) I’m sure all of my friends are sick and tired of me flinging statistics like condoms in a health clinic. Eric assures me that there are no worries because, “I fly them in, and fly them out.” All of his chicks are imported. LMAO This guy literally had females booked to visit him for at least three or four consecutive weekends in a row. Hilarious but I’d never put anything past this individual’s gangster. Eric is without a doubt a ladies man.
So Mr. Big shot wasn’t so big when we spoke on the phone last night! Apparently he’d made the sad mistake of flying in an “after-the-club” jump off that he didn’t know too much of outside of the bedroom. Just assumed she was as normal as she was sexy.
“I had the worst weekend EVER!!” he whined. Goes on to tell me how the chick was crazy clingy and affectionate and annoyed the shyt out of him her entire stay lol. “It was hot as hell and she was brushing up against me. Shit I couldn’t even walk to the other side of the room without turning around and her ass being right there in my face yo! My room is big as hell dude.”
Then he goes on to talk about the second sour mistake he made of bringing her to a business function with very high level and influential professionals he dealt with in his line of business ( i.e. folks that held keys to the city). “This chick downs three cups of grey goose and passes the f*** out! Then they start clowning her! I was like yo, you gotta go pass out in the car or something. This shit aint cool for real.”
“What?” I was cracking up with my fingers spread in hopes of preserving the four coats of Opi Lacquer I’d painstakingly labored over trying to duplicate Helen’s G. But nobody can duplicate Helen’s G.
“Yea man, and they were clowning her hard too! So when we get back she gets all emotional and starts crying and shyt when I tell her about herself. I didn’t even wanna smash her down but I did it anyway to keep her quiet and happy.”
“Damn dude. Ahhh, the drunk cry. I know those all too well.” And now that I think about it, I think Eric has witnessed a few of my drunken psychotic episodes…crying about anything and everything, gurgling tears and snot on the bathroom floor at four in the morning. Or maybe he was on the phone…heck I was drunk, can’t even remember.
I started blowing on my fingers again to speed up the process because my head was itching something crazy. He goes on, “She wanted to do all that kissin shyt, I didn’t wanna kiss and she kept pressing ‘kiss me kiss me’. Tryna hold hands…man yo she got on my fucking nerves!”
“Yea,” I said, “That shoulda put her on right there. When a man doesn’t want to kiss you during sex that says a whole lot in itself if he even kisses you at all.” Didn’t I know that principle all too well *cough*. Needless to say he was utterly disgusted at what he thought would be another weekend of fun, frills and freaky fan fair minus the whipped cream. Lesson learned I suppose.
“That’s why I like my main chick,” he said, “this kinda shyt just makes me appreciate her even more.”
Is that why men cheat? LOL, go figure.
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