How He Doin'? - Part 2

In case you just couldn't get enough of my captivating dating saga with my "possibly-gay" EX-beau (or if you're just bored), I have part two for you. Remember- it was originally an email to my friend, Lindsay, so if you're a bit nonplussed I've been kind enough to include explanatory notes in [brackets]. Happy reading.

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Hey Girl,

I got a weekend quickie for ya. Abridged b/c it's only for Sunday.

So Sunday evening I was pretty tired after a long night of partying it up in Long Island for Mo's birthday. I was all ready to chill w/Desperate Housewives and a pint of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Haagen Daaz when Chris called me. We hadn't seen each other in about two weeks, and our phone conversations were sporadic and stale. When he said he wanted to see me, I was down so we could salvage our fading courtship. We ran through our usual list of Sunday date spots, but none of them really appealed to me b/c I was feeling too lazy to dress up, and it was cold outside. Chris didn't
mind staying in either, so he suggested that I come over to his place to watch a movie or something. You and I both know that "watch a movie or something" is man-speak for gettin' some. But, I was quite "movie or something"- deprived, so I readily accepted his offer.

Chris is kind of too nice for his own good, so he offered to pick me up all the way in Harlem, drive me to Brooklyn, then drive me back to Harlem and the drive himself back to Brooklyn. Really he wanted me to just stay the night, but I had work the next day, so I offered to take the train out there on the condition that he drive me back home that evening. He agreed. He lives kind of deep in BK, but it was a rather easy commute on the Q train. He met me at the station, we picked up some food and went to his house. When we finally arrived at his building we sat in the car for a minute and talked. He must've gotten a little self-conscious because he
started making excuses for living in the hood and for his building looking rundown. Initially, I didn't think anything of the aesthetically unappealing building exterior. It's NYC, some of the flyest apartments are nestled inside of the ugliest buildings. I mean, my building isn't so hot on the outside, but the newly renovated apartments are pretty nice. Mine could be too if we just cleaned up. He was probably embarrassed b/c there he was driving a new Lexus, rocking expensive clothes, spending crazy loot when he goes out and he's living in a slum tenement. Hmmm... "Nypical Tigger."[Hopefully, that was pretty self-explanatory. Other terms that could be used are "Hood Rich" and "Ghetto Fab".] Oh well, at least it wasn't the projects.

We trekked up four flights of stairs (no elevator) and made it to his apartment, which he shares w/his sister. She was a nice young lady. They moved in together when Chris and his baby momma fell out. She's a nurse, and was on her way to work the overnight shift. The apartment wasn't so bad- typical tenement. There was barely any furniture- since they'd moved in recently. The little bit of furniture there was very ugly. Chris may have an eye for fashion, but he's certainly no interior designer. I must admit- I had a bit of a Joan moment [Joan is the Carrie Bradshaw-like character from the show- Girlfriends] when I surveyed the place. It didn't impress me like all of Chris' other superficial things. I expected more from him. I don't know where or how I get off being such a snoot [I'm a little ghetto fab myself, but i do recognize the flaw in it].

Anyway, after chatting w/Chris' sister before she left, I made myself comfy on the sheet-covered couch (at least it wasn't plastic). Chris said he was in the process of switching from regular cable to satellite; therefore he had NO CABLE. He said he had left most of his personal items at his baby momma's house, so he had no pics or fun stuff to explore. He only had furniture and plants. He did own a DVD player, so I figured that would we could kill a good three hours watching "The Departed." As soon as the movie started Chris excused himself to take a shower.

I was fine w/that b/c I was looking forward to watching "The Departed"- and I was a little, teeny weeny, bit less attracted to Chris after seeing his place (that's bad right?). After about twenty minutes into the movie Chris was out of the shower and shouted out from his bedroom, "Hey Brittny, wanna see me naked?!" That really caught me off guard b/c although I knew what was inevitably going to happen that evening, I didn't think Chris would be so forward since our relationship was moving on the Tortoise Express. Also, I was like, "C'mon dude, I'm an effing lady. You gotta play the game." I firmly responded that I did NOT want to see him naked and for him to put some clothes on. He kept insisting that he wanted me to see his body and that he was gonna come out naked. I repeatedly yelled back for him to put some clothes on before he came into the living room. Finally he acquiesced... sorta.

Girl, he leapt into the living room wearing some royal blue, tight spandex shorts and a wife beater! Then he started posing in front of me. I nearly died. He stood right in front of me with those tight things and asked me if I liked him in them. I guess I was supposed to be floored by the imprint of his package in the shorts, but I was far too distracted and amused by his entrance in these silly blue shorts to even care about his junk. I responded to his question with a shock and awe gaze that must have made him realize how much of a nut he was, and he got the hint. He had a cute little frame (a bit of a belly), but nice legs, arms, booty and "Peter." I couldn't get turned on though, b/c I was laughing hysterically. I begged him to change into some sweats or something. He was a little embarrassed b/c he repeatedly asked what was wrong w/the spandex, and through my chuckles I told him something about them being unhygienic. Defeated, he went back into the room to change.

About ten minutes later, Chris returned in regular baggy boxers and his wife-beater. Still a bit under dressed, but much, much better. Mind you, I was still fully dressed in a turtleneck sweater and jeans. We'd only gotten through maybe another ten or fifteen more minutes of the movie before Chris made his next move. Here goes that 0 to 90 I was talking about. We kissed for all of three seconds before he jumped off the couch and LITERALLY KICKED HIS SHORTS OFF. Let me repeat. He got off of the couch, snatched his boxers down and flung his leg HIGH up in the air, exclaimed "Whee," and kicked the shorts across the room. Then he gyrated his way over to me. Once again, I went into hysterics b/c I was convinced he'd gotten his "sexy" instructions from Barnum and Bailey's.

Lindsay, Chris is a damn foolish, clown! I don't know what I'm going to do with him. We messed around the rest of the evening. We didn't go all of the way b/c he said that he didn't think it was the "right" time (back to 0). He mentioned something about it not being the way he planned and wanting to make it special for me. Little did he know, that was already a "special" experience for me. He also said he was a little embarrassed about his place. At that point, his place was the least of my concerns. Honestly, I was ready for some action once I'd gotten over my fits of laughter (who knew- Jokes as foreplay?) I also re-asked him if he was gay. Once again, he replied, "No," and told me that he was growing a little tired of me asking him. Chris also expressed that he had a problem w/his performance in condoms, so he didn't want to disappoint or disrespect me or himself by NOT using one. That was pretty much the most sensible part of the evening. Boy was he serious about
that. We did pretty much everything we could do w/o going "all the way."
And he didn't break down once through all of that temptation. So basically, we had about three hours of foreplay. Does that make him self-controlled or gay?

Another funny thing was that when he was looking at my body, he gave the usual compliments- "sexy, nice, blah, blah", but he also regularly commented on how "clean" I was. "Oh, I like you. You're so nice and clean." Clean is a good thing, but not exactly a word you'd use in the heat of the moment, eh? That boy is too weird. Anyway, he drove me home at about 3:30am; but, b4 he dropped me off, he said that he hoped I would continue to call/see him, but he'd understand if I was disappointed by his non-performance that evening. Who's the girl in this relationship, again?

How He Doin'? - Part 1

Like a deejay, I sometimes like to dig in the crates for some oldies but goodies. This is an email I sent to my homegirl about a date I had awhile back. I love reading it and observing my transgression from yesterday's giddy crush to today's "OMG- what the eff was I thinking?" For the record- this guy and I are totally NO LONGER an item. Also, I included little notes in [brackets] so that you can understand some of the vague parts. Hope you enjoy.

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Hey L,

I was actually out on a date w/Chris - the dude w/the shiny, new Lexus I met at Mo's [a bar in Brooklyn with a significant number of gay patrons, but NOT necessarily a "gay bar"]
few weeks back. I called him after my lunch outing w/Mo [a BFF- not a non-gay bar] and Pam, and we decided to meet up for drinks or something.

He picked me up at around 9 and I'd totally forgotten what he looked like.
One time I had a nightmare about him looking like Zab Judda. Thank God he
didn't look like ZJ, but he did look like another celebrity- your ATL homie-
Bobby Valentino- good hurr and all. LOL! He had on an Ed Hardy
trucker cap, a black sweater w/a green/white checkered button down
underneath and some fancy ripped up jeans and suede loaferish shoes. - He
put my lame black jeans/black top ensemble to shame.

So we drove around a while trying to figure out someplace to go until he
mentioned something about wanting to play pool. I suggested Slate (which has since
added several more ping-pong tables). He played his son's CD in the car
during the ride. Keep your ear's peeled for Lil Twizzle's first single. I
could tell he was very proud.

Chris is exactly my height and I was almost a few centimeters taller than
him in my 1 inch heels. He was nice and a terrible pool player- or maybe he
was so bad because he was distracted by my sexy pool moves. You know how I do [Lindsay jokes that i like to play pool on dates because of my "seductive" moves - i.e. - bending over the table; sitting on the edge and shooting from behind; and my all time favorite- bent over the table with said guy behind helping me shoot].

We had a couple of drinks and called it a night pretty early. No crazy
stories- just a nice, innocent date. He had me home a little before
midnight and he mentioned a 2nd date. He gave me a sweet little kiss on the
lips before I got out of his car and that was it.

Oh, but we did have a conversation about our dreams and goals. I told him I had
TV show aspirations (no didn't give specifics about ideas and stuff) [Linds and I have pitched super secret tv show ideas to each other that NO ONE must have wind of], and he surprised the hell out of me by saying that although he does I.T. [found out later that he installs internet for Time Warner Cable- which makes him the Cable Guy] for a
living, he has a STRONG DESIRE to pursue FASHION. Perplexing- Is he secure
enough in his manhood that he can openly admit that he wants to work in
fashion; or should a red flag be going up in my head? Isn't that my dream-
to date a dude who shares a love for nice clothes like I do? Or am I a
fag-hag? Hmmmm...

Oh well - I think I like him.

[Continued in "How He Doin'" Part 2]

Life Block

I'm tired of being stuck... Stuck to my stupid job. Stuck in the 150-160 pound weight range. Stuck to my crappy apartment. Stuck with my dumb driver's learning permit. AARRGGHH!!! It just makes me want to scream. But screaming gets me nowhere. The only significant life change I have made this year was my hairstyle. Yeah- I'm transitioning from chemically straightened hair to natural, nappy hair; but, surprise- the length of my hair seems to remain STUCK on short.

Unsticking myself from these conditions is not going to be easy because i have no clue what my next step would be. I feel like a lone piece of beading on a fancy tee shirt, who knows it should be part of a ball gown, but will just end swept in the trash if it tries to free itself. That's called "STUCK for decent metaphors." Seriously though, at this point in my life, I almost feel that any move I try to make might land me in the trash- and I'm just too old for that kind of risk. That ball gown is unattainable and nearly impossible to land. My tee shirt is comfortable, safe and smart. (That's as far as I'm gonna go with that analogy.)

I know that change is never easy, but where do I even begin? Currently, I have an administrative job at a television network. Despite my previous metaphorical blunder, I really am a pretty good writer. Unfortunately, I am not sure that every one else would agree- and my insecurity keeps me stuck. This insecurity is not completely self afflicted. When I took the necessary steps toward writing for this network, I was shot down because I didn't "pass" their writing test. Oh c'mon! It didn't even test for technical or grammatical skill. I didn't have to create any kind of fancy figurative speech either. Rather, it tested SUBJECTIVE comedic ability- and apparently I didn't make my tester chuckle hard enough. Although I've been promoted within the network since that dreadful exam, I still have not moved on. And I know I can't use that nitwit-administered dumb test as a scapegoat forever, but it has made me reluctant to give writing here another shot. At this point, I just want to get my own writing poppin', blow up and tell these mofos to kiss my butt as I laugh all the way to the bank. Yeaaaaa- they'll be sorry then... or not.

My weight is a whole other issue. Last year's "Fat Girl Thoughts" post pretty much explained it all. I have an warped relationship with food and, once again, wouldn't you know - it is mostly due to my own crazy disposition. (I might be on to something here.) Maniacal exercise, low carbs, binge eating- No matter the approach, I constantly get the same end. This is mind blowing. Back in high school, losing a bunch of weight using one of those methods was a breeze. Nowadays it would be a blessing for me to hit 148 pounds.

I suppose, my real gripe is that change might be easier for me if I could just get something drastically different out of it. Even if the change does not last, I just want to go through it. I am not sure exactly where I wanted to go with this post, but I'm desperate for change. Obama-rize my life!