An important lesson..

I told y'all that I don't discriminate, right?

This is a story about #58.

The around the way guy, the local weed man.  Don't look at me funny.  I don't have to go into details.  He was gorgeous.  Tall, lean, tone, and black as tar.  He looked like a sexy male model, not really my type, but very, very do-able. 

We knew each other for a while, maybe 2 or 3 years before it ever dawned on me that he was attracted to me.  I honestly believe that it had just dawned on him that he was attracted to me.  He struck me a sort of a "fat ass" man; I don't fit the description. 

Anyways, after 2 or 3 years of popping up, stopping by, and eating my damn food, he started to tug at my pants when I would walk by or play in my hair when he sat next to me. 

Oh, he wanted it.

I stopped and evaluated the situation. 

I had to admit that I didn't know much about him, wasn't even sure I knew his real name.  I didn't know where he lived.  I don't even think I knew anyone that he knew.  I did know that he had just had a baby, and I was pretty sure he had a girlfriend. 

This could turn out bad!

Then one day, while I was frying some chicken, he brushed himself up against me.  That was all she wrote. 

Fuck it, let's get it!

Pause:  I'm going to give this one a grade--solid 8 on a 10 scale (pretty good, elite equipment).  This is important information because it will later explain why my tolerance level was so high. 

We never went anywhere, but this wasn't a dating folly.  These were our boundaries. 

I officially became the other woman (one of many other women).  (8 out of 10)

As sneaky bitches typically do, she got my phone number.  Ugh!  I hate when the girls call my phone, and she just used to call and ask for him like she knew he was laid up with me (he wasn't).   

She continued to call, she would ride by to see if his car was there.  I continued to answer the late night booty calls; I looked forward to his drunk nights  (9 on a 10 scale).

Finally, I grew tired of her phone calls.  I would have to turn my phone off to avoid her.  I hate when the broads call my phone. 

He was dismissed after that.  I wasn't in love, infatuated, or even that interested.  I was extremely objective and he was causing unnecessary drama.  3 strikes homie, you're out. 

She called my phone for 4 months after I was done with him.  I HATE when the bitches call my phone!!

Dating folly:  Not knowing enough information to hold him accountable for his actions. 

FINAL TALLY:

dented and scratched cars--1

good sex--gone

trips to the gynecologist--1.  There were a lot of other chicks.

Important lesson learned... 

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