Another Saturday Night Club Story

Saturday I went out and managed to avoid the detox room *lol* but not another potential stalker.

After work, a few co-workers and I decide to hit the streets. Now by the time we met back up again a few had flaked out so it was me and my girl and another guy from work and his crew. Boy fine ass men must flock together now or something because everyone in his crew was cute. And you know in any crew, there is always the “ugly” one. Don’t front and act like you don’t know about the “ugly” one. Now this person might not be “Quasimodo mixed with a side of Lurch” ugly but usually it’s the less cute one. Guys you know what I’m talking about. Out of the group there is that one that just doesn’t catch your eye like that. In some circles this person is also the “cock blocker” so you usually try to push one of your guys on her to keep her a lil’ busy while you get your mack on. Sh*t my friends and I do the same…Only we draw straws on who gets the “ugly” one but sh*t let me stop fronting, sometimes it’s the so-called “ugly” one that treats you the best.

But now it seem like “Ugly” *and I mean the real ugly* folks are not eating that humble pie like they should be. Trying desperately to be dogs. I mean getting straight conceited *ahem Remy this dedication goes out to you* and sh*t right? Like they are the finest thing in the world, ain’t they? They have the nerve to look at you like you just escaped from the zoo and should be examined as a new species? Now I ain’t strutting down runways or breaking every man’s neck when I walk past *maybe a few neck sprains here and there* myself, I am not that conceited. I know my beauty flaws and what-have-yous. Some of yall might not even think I’m cute at all *and haters will never prosper* but sh*t I know I fall in the Cute range. Which how I like it. You gotta preserve your sexy too much when you’re deemed as fine but eh you can be “cute” forever with less work. Besides it’s too much effort involved to be fine. Like I have to be on my P’s and Q’s constantly. And damn that. I love my sweat and hair scarves. It’s mandatory for me to go in the store with my hair all wrapped up, the bogus sweats, and flip flops. I mean who the hell am I going to pick up at my grocery store?

But any who *lol* There always have to be a plain one in the group. Sh*t I think women secretly ask the “plain” one to come kick it so you look better than her. Hey women are all about competition right? At least that what I think when I see girls in the club with sh*t they have no business what so ever wearing. You know their friend was like, ”Girl, you know stretch mark are in! Girl show them off, let folks know you got a shorty” or some sh*t like that. Is that mandatory? To have a “plain” friend? I won’t even say “ugly” because like I said this doesn’t mean this person is very unattractive but he or see could be considered the “plainest” out the bunch. I mean folks like this come in handy. I mean who else will hold the coats, purses, car keys and drinks and hold your seat all night? *lol*

Naw let me stop fronting. I’ve held a few purses and coats myself but I will be damn if I’m sitting down all night. I’m juking and hold down three coats and four purses. Sh*t many of times I’ve just tossed it on the floor, done me, and picked them bad boys right up. Later on someone is wondering why her coat is wet and smells like Bacardi. *The world may never know* My sh*t is nice and dry by the way.

Later we resolved this *because we realized coat holders=plain Janes* so we just leave the sh*t in the car and suffer for the sake of fashion. We’re the ones in the winter who’s rocking as little as possible *but not hoe-ish* freezing our asses off, huddling together to fuel our dropping body temperatures. Stupid considering there is coat checks now in most clubs but umm yeah we’ve lost quite a few stubs over the course of the night and we found out that a lot of people have the same damn coat as you. Then you get into it with the real coat owner and just pray you got something in your pocket to prove this coat is, in fact, yours. I don’t do that anymore thankfully. I dress for the weather now. No more short skirts when “The Hawk” is out. Just jeans.

So like I said, all his little friends were cute as sh*t. Some were short as hell but still cuties. At first they were all standoffish around us, like we were going to f*ck up their p*ssy factor for the night but I quickly had to let them know the rundown and we were all straight after that. Basically respect mine and I’ll respect yours type of thing. One did kind of have my eye but I told your guys I’m planning my own “flirtation” 12 Steps and one of the steps is admitting I have a problem. I do and I have so I have been dimming my flirting.

Besides that leads men on. Make no mistake, I flirt but that’s as far as it goes. Except that one slip up 2 ½ years ago, I have been faithful as far as sex. Only guy sliding up in this is the boyfriend. Besides sex creates headaches. That’s how f*cking KAPPA has been a boil on my ass ever since.

So we hit up Platinum partly because us *me and my girl* were not driving and our guy from works “knows somebody who knows somebody* so we got in from free. Not a problem for me since I was rationing my club money since someone had to hit the mall this week for more undies *another addiction that needs not be mentioned* and some summer dresses. I need some more gold strappy sandals. Now if I don’t say so myself, I was killing it. Last month I bought this dress that I have been itching to rock for some time now. Of course when I find out what attack cat did with the camera cord, I will be updating my Flickr.

Its aqua, has a really cut front and it flares into a tiny skirt. I mean the front is so low I had to use double-sided tape. Of course I’m snickering because I don’t have much that needs to be taped down but can’t have a booby slip while up in the club. Had on my silver pumps and some silver accessories, hair all pinned up and I was ready to hit the streets. Of course boyfriend’s lips all tight and sh*t while I’m getting ready. He hates that dress. This makes it my new favorite. *wink*

Now we’re in VIP chilling, drinking and talking loudly to each other but enough is enough! Time to shake that ass! So my girl and I get up, we’re a little slizzard but we’re determined not to end up in detox and we get on the dance floor. We’re shaking and shimmering because she’s rocking this cute all in one that if she wasn’t my girl I would bust her in the head and steal it from her. A few of his guys slipped from VIP and we dance with them before we send them on their p*ssy search for the night. So we’re just doing us as well as handing out “One Dance Minimums” all night. Like I said, I don’t know if not dancing for women is the “thing” here so when men meets women who wants and likes to dance, they maul you, but I felt like I was constantly slapping hands away and wiggling out of some tight ass grasp. I think some were getting their rocks off because the dress did not have much of a front or a bottom and it was thin but I felt too many pokes *one I swear I felt on my damn knee cap…I broke my neck getting away from his ass* in my “no-no” area so I definitely had to bounce. It might have been a long time for you but not for me!

So after sweating it up for close to an hour on the dance floor, we stumble our asses to the bar. I order my drink and she orders her. Before I could slap my money on the counter, someone reaches over me and hands the bartender some money. I’m thinking the rude bastard sees me trying to pay for my sh*t how dare he try to pay for his when it took me damn near 10 minutes to get the bartender’s attention but when I try to hand my money to the bartender he shakes his head and say they have already been paid for. I assume that one of the guys saw us at the bar and bought our drinks for us *why I thought this I have no idea since in VIP we did not pay for anything* so I turn around to say thanks and I’m staring at a dude’s chest. Yeah the nigga was just that tall. I mean this nigga was like Shaq tall. Ok well maybe not but he was at least 6’4’’. Built like I like it. And teeth was a nice even pearly white. He was a little too light for my taste but he was a cutie. So I’m like ”Oh thanks. I thought you were someone else.” He says some cute little line or something and we laugh because I tell him about his corny ass line. My girl just taps my shoulder and slides her little ass off. He goes into the “I saw you on the dance floor…” line and I stop him and tell him to can it with the “club” lines. We talk a little more and I find out he’s starting his Master’s program in B.A at NC A&T in the fall. So he’s a recent graduate and a youngin’ *lol* He’s one year younger than me but lawd is he built for some danger. We dance for a while *breaking my One Dance Minimum rule* and chat some more. I leave to go to the washroom, come out, and BAM there he is. I go back to the bar and BAM there he is. I even head back up to VIP and he sits down next to me like its good. Dude was a cutie but he was too damn needy. I mean he’s protecting me like I’m a celebrity and sh*t, which I think some people thought I was because that crowd was parting like the Red Sea. He was constantly wanting to hold my hand, leaning in to sniff my perfume, and just do little things that just irks the sh*t out of me. It was like I would tell him to stop, he’d stop for a minute, and restart again. And since he was so big, folks sorta avoided me like the plague *lol* I finally manage to escape him and I’m dancing with a dude and dude just freeze up. I look up and who’s barreling through the crowd? Dude damn near jumped out his skin to get away from me.

I’m like, “WTF? This John Coffy muthaf*cker is f*cking up my groove!” so I had to enforce my club rules. His feelings seemed a little hurt and I was a little nervous that he might spaz out and choke a b*tch and then kill the bouncers who would try to save my lifeless ass body but he got the picture.

Or so I thought.

I didn’t see him the rest of the night but I felt his presence. My girl was yapping in my ear about how cute he was and funny *which is true because when he wasn’t irking me with all the touching he was keeping me in stitches* and I’m always cursing folks out and I’m telling her how Hooters’ Boy did not count, I mean he did touch my shoulder with his greasy ass fingers, when I hear my name. I turn around and it’s him. He’s like take down my number so you can call me sometimes. So I try to turn him down gently by mentioning I have a boyfriend and yada yada. He ain’t trying to hear that. He says a little more loudly, I want you to take down my number. So I’m like why would I take it down and I have no intentions on calling. No. Meanwhile I’m inching away. He is a big muthaf*cker you know. Just so happens my phone rings and its FH so I dismiss him and turn my back to him and chat with my girl for a second. Why did I do that?

When I turn around he’s gone and my girl is giving me that “disapproval” stare. She’s like I’m a big meanie. So we walk to the car and the guys start teasing me about dude. Like, I saw you about to run when his big ass raised his voice. And don’t think I was going to jump in if he beat your ass. You cool but I’m too sexy for all that. You trying to get a nigga kilt and sh*t *lol*

My phone rings and I answer it without looking at the caller i.d.

It’s him.

Apparently when I turned my back he read my number off of my Blackberry screen. F*cking Blackberry. Damn traitor. I forgot on the phone screen, my number is displayed at the top of the screen. In little bitty font of course but I guess this nigger got eyes like a hawk or something.

I am just livid. Sneaky bastard. I don’t even listen to what he’s blabbing out, I just end the call.

He calls back several more times. I cut off the phone.

I haven’t turned it on yet. I wonder how many voicemails I got.