Holy Rollin’

Is This Where I Should Lay My Burdens?

This is going to sound like a mean rant. And it is. So if you’re easily offended by religious discussion, I invite you to stop reading now.

I still have your attention?! Great.

Recently, I was watching some re-runs of “Run’s House” and I noticed that when Justine answered the phone, she greeted callers with, “praise the Lord!” Nothing wrong with that, I actually thought it was cute…and funny. But what I liked about Justine as the episode progressed was that she kept it real. You know, went about her regular business and wasn’t pushing her Lord on anybody. Shall we talk about keeping it real?

I used to attend a mega church in Los Angeles (to remain nameless) and every Sunday, I sat in the same seat. Smack dab in the front about 5 rows from the altar. I like to be able to see EVERYthang that’s going on without distractions. Any further back & I may as well stay home to watch it online. I wanted chuuuch. There was a lady around my Mom’s age who would save my seat. I liked her. She had the best hats to go with her outfits and never had a rip in her pantyhose. She was fly! We’ll call her Church Lady.

Church Lady loved to tell me her business because, in her eyes, I was like a daughter. So I listened. I listened to her tell me about the tired men who take her out on cheap dates. I listened to her gossip about Sistah Big Bones across the aisle. I listened to her tell me how God blessed her with a new Benz (she went for a C-class but they offered an E-class for a good price). And I listened to her tell me about her teenage sons who, for whatever reason, never want to sit next to her and looooove their daddy. Church Lady kept it real with me every week. And she even asked for my number so she could call me in case I missed a Sunday! Ok, that’s called being nosey, but you get my point.

Like Justine, Church Lady knew she wasn’t perfect. She never tried to be except when it came to her flawless hair & makeup. Her weave was whipped and her M.A.C. was matte. Impeccable. She was just like me: in church to hear a message from God so that I can make it through the week. Except her gossip was my little bonus. But after a while, I grew tired of this mega church. It started to feel like I was watching a live TV show versus being in the House of God. So I stopped going.

I would visit church after church. I sat in the front rows only to watch more live TV…which sucks because I work in TV. But I’m hesitant about visiting this one church that many of my associates go to because—well, they’re pretty much heathens (we’ll come back to this later).

Back to Justine and Church Lady. We all KNOW for a fact that outside of church, people live sinful normal lives just like you and me. So what’s the use of trying to pretend like you don’t? A dear, dear friend of mine called me the other day with the most judgmental conversation I’d ever heard, and it made my skin crawl. This person seems to profess their love for God (or some god) more than anyone I can name. Doesn’t the Bible mention that God is the ultimate judge? Doesn’t this same God forgive us of our sins, regardless of who we are?

I am sick and tired of religious/church people condemning the world like their sh!t doesn’t stink. Most of all, I’m fed up with them pretending to love God so much that they forgot how to be human. These are the types people who add ‘if the Lord is willing’ after every question (ex: “hey, you going to Joy’s party on Saturday?” “girrrl, I will if the Lord is willing!”). Really? You consult with God on every decision you make? Did you ask God to help you choose those 3 baby-daddies or was that all you? Did you ask God to give you the words to curse out that rude chick in line at White Castles? Please tell me God didn’t direct you to buy a Land Rover and your rent is 3 months behind? Yeah. Didn’t think so.

The part I think is the saddest is there are people in the world who don’t believe in God (or any god) whatsoever, and then they look at the Holy Rollers with their non-sense. Who wants to be affiliated with that? Get over yourself. And while I’m at it, can’t we all just get along?

Some may say that I’m now judging them on their behavior. I call it stating the facts. Bottom line is we all get one chance at life. And this is it. How you choose to live yours may not line up with what I’m doing, and vice versa. But that in no way means I am wrong and you are right! It means we’re uniquely human. And my uniquely human hand wants to *in my Mama Braxton voice* smack the piss out of them! Just like this dude ‘be smacking his hoes.’

End rant.

LYFE JENNINGS
“Made Up My Mind”
[1st Verse:]
Lord they really think they fooling you by coming to church on Sunday
praying and laying hands on folks stomping and jumping around
faking the holy ghost
but its a thin line between walking it and talking it
living it and giving it or just pretending it’s alright
and did they really think that they could pull the wool over your eyes Lord
did they really think that by faking they were saved that
they would get the same reward
this be the realest thing I ever wrote for sure
after this a lot of folks wont like me no mo’
but after this I gotta go answer to you Lord
so I’ve made up my mind I’m a go to church on Sunday
and sing a song that may hurt somebody’s feelings so that maybe
thy will, will be done
on earth as it is in heaven
and hopefully they will see
how much they really be discouraging a little old sinner like me
[2nd Verse:]
And Lord who they think they jiving by singing these songs full of glory
then out in the world it’s a different story
I’m running out of people to pray for me
I’m not trying to act like I’m the perfect man
but if you speak about it, you should be about it
not just preach about it all day
cause if you do you run the risk of chasing some
of the most beautiful people away
and it is never my intention to discourage you rather encourage you
to change your life today
this be the realest thing I ever had to say,
but after this a lot of folks wont like me no mo’
but after this I gotta go answer to you Lord
so I’ve made up my mind I’m a go to church on Sunday
and sing a song that may hurt somebody’s feelings
so that maybe thy will, will be done
on earth as it is in heaven
and hopefully they will see
how much they really be discouraging a little old sinner like me
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Don’t Be A Menace to Santa Monica While Drinking Someone’s Juice In The Office

Juices

Rhonda. We're good for you.

This is what it looked like. A beautiful array of juices on a single shelf in the fridge.

Let me back up for a second. I work in an office where there’s a drink cooler similar to ones you see in a corner store. The drinks are ‘complimentary’, right? So on this particular day, I looked past the Diet Coke and Snapple to one of these delightful healthy juice choices. My guess was that some small LA-based company sent them for us to try. What I didn’t pay attention to was that each one was labeled with a number 1 through 6. I ignored them. I grabbed the Grapefriut/Mint flavored one and went back to my desk. I even called up to the receptionist to make sure they didn’t belong to anyone, she assured me they were for the office.

Minutes later, I hear what appeared to be a storm moving from door-to-door and was quickly approaching my cubicle. It arrived before my eyes.

“You took my juice? I need that, I’m starving! Can I have it back???”

Apparently, one of my male co-workers was on a new juice fast and I was drinking his #3 meal of the day. I was so embarrassed! I apologized, gave him the 7/8 full bottle of (delicious) Grapefruit/Mint juice and walked in shame the rest of the afternoon. I even heard a male co-worker in the distance say, “You drank his juice? Oh man, you ARE from St. Louis!” (Sidenote: insert my woo-sahhhh moment…he doesn’t know me.)

Did I miss something? Why didn’t he just label “Do Not Touch” on his juice like everyone else seems to do in this sort of environment? Is there an unwritten code that these types of men abide by that women seem to blatantly ignore? I know that years of research has been done on us women…because other humans just don’t understand us.

I ran across a post if you click right here you will see it on verysmartbrothas.com that got me thinking about the huge mental gap between men and women. So let me break down a few things that the Curvalicious Species does that Those Without Boobs will never wrap their minds around (I actually don’t get why/how we do these things either, just saying):

1) SWITCH INTO “HO MODE”— You’re in the club looking at a group of gorgeous women who seem to be chillin’ in the corner. They’ve gone to the bar, bought their own drinks, and appear to be a decent group of somewhat-conservative chicks having a bougie girls night out. Then the DJ plays Juvenile’s “Back That Azz Up” and each of these women are now dancing topless on the tables. Ok, maybe not topless, but you get the point. Every girl has an inner ho and it’s bound to come out at the most random moment. Usually after two drinks.

2) TALK FOR HOURS— I can’t even begin to explain this one. What in the world is so important that we run down entire cell phone batteries so we can switch to the house phone and continue the conversation? Yes, I’m guilty of this. No, I can’t comprehend it.

3) HOARD ITEMS/EMOTIONS/MEN/EVERYTHING–I was recently discussing my shoe addiction with a friend (who also shares the same addiction and we’re a force when we’re together) when she brought up a memory of her ex. Not only did she break up with this guy years ago, but our conversation had nothing to do with him. What is happening in her brain that won’t allow her to let go of that guy (or any guy)? And why do we buy four pairs of the same shoe (or shirt) in different colors?  Women.

4) ANNOYING VOICE INFLECTIONS— This happens when we first see each other in a public place. There’s a 3-second deep breath, a scream, then a OhMyGoooossshhhh-iHaventSeenYouInSoooooLooonnnnng followed by jumping up and down and hugging. Ugh. Women. Just say hi.

5) GET MAD OVER TEXT/EMAIL— Again, although guilty, I. Do. Not. know why we do this. Everybody knows words have connotations that aren’t necessarily communicated correctly in a print fashion (see #2 above). Example: Girl gets mad over Guy for not answering the phone when she called him last night while he was partying (we’ll come back to this later). It is now morning, and he texts her “what u doin?” She furiously sends him a 400-word Facebook message about how she deserves better, has sacrificed so much for Guy, he doesn’t value their relationship, blah blah blah. Guy replies “ok.” Girl storms over to his house, livid, and bangs on the door. Guy opens the door and has clearly just rolled out of bed as he’s still in pajamas. Girl screams, “So that’s all you’ve got to say is ‘ok’??? Really?” WTF just happened? Guy has no idea. But women do.

My people out there, what else do can you think of that many women do and makes no logical sense? Talk to me.

Lucky Number “Tree”–Pt. 1

It’s your typical Friday night in the big city: distant siren sounds, slow side-street traffic, and the smell of Love Spell around every corner.  To many, this is a recipe for disaster, but it seemed like the beginning of an eventful night to me. Boy. Was I right.

I arrived at a popular spot on Highland/Hollywood just before 10 0’oclock. Everybody knows the guest list closes at 10:30P. I stood in line with 3-7 “new friends,” which are pretty women I spark conversations with so it doesn’t appear that I rolled solo. We’re in line shivering and smiling in a huddle, and hoping the doorman picks us next to go in. Now’s a good time to point out how every car at the stoplight turned to a ‘good’ song then blasted their radios. Why do people do that?

At this point it’s 10:45P and I’m randomly texting a girlfriend about the ratchetness I just saw: a stretch Hummer with butterfly doors and at least 12 wheels…each with 24″ rims…pulls in front of us. All the gold-diggers standing outside got quiet. Out jumps a group of bums, pure bums! The girls had on the latest spring fashions from Wet Seal and the guys were in flannel shirts & Timberlands. One of them even had prison-like (aka fuzzy, messy, and crooked) braids. I was waiting to see Snoop emerge from the cloud of smoke behind them, but no. Just an [un-named] NFL player whose birthday party it was.

We finally get inside at the discounted rate of $10 (thanks to the guest list…smh) and of course, the place is near empty. That explains the line out the door.

After maybe 2 songs, I find myself standing near the wall & eyeing the men in the room. This was by far the tallest collection of guys in LA I’ve ever seen. Guy #1 approaches me with a classic don’t-you-wanna-let-me-dance-behind-you attitude while sipping his drink. I veered right. He says, “Aw, don’t be like that!” I simply gave a ‘no thanks’ through what was left of my lips since his breath had just melted my face. No. Thanks.

Minutes later, Guy #2 comes up to me to ask am I having a good time. I shook my head, “I’m not feeling this DJ, I don’t dance to Yung Berg.” This somewhat handsome dude smiled, “Well I’m having a 90s party next weekend, you should come through. I do party promotions.” If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you kindly accept the flyer and they go away! I stuffed it way down into my purse.

Once the Wobble and Cupid Shuffle songs got me going, my ankles started talking. It’s time to sit down. As I’m resting on a couch in the VIP section (did you really think anyone would be in VIP?), Guy #3 strolls by, stops, and reverses. He is at least 6-feet and some change, but I couldn’t tell how much change while sitting. He’s actually quite attractive, too. He reached out his hand, “Um, please tell me why a beautiful lady like you is all by herself?” I pointed to my shoes, “Gotta give these feet a rest.” He’s still holding my hand, I’m somewhat charmed. Guy #3 is a bouncer and his suit/tie look was very refreshing to me.

A few seconds later, he says he’d like to get to know me better and I should enter my number in his phone. Handed me his Blackberry. Now, I’m more charmed by Guy #3. Third time’s a charm, right?

I ended the night by heading to the bar for a nice glass of water and my last shot at these tall dudes. Not even a full minute goes by as I place the straw to my mouth–Guy #4 is staring me up and down. He’s also 3-inches too close to me and I’m getting upset. By the look of his bloodshot red eyes and flannel shirt, whatever he’s about to say will be classic.

“Ay. You got ass, though.”

That was it. I gave a nod, turned back around and faced the bartender. He’s still talking to the back of my head about how he’s from Kansas City and here in LA to have a good time this weekend. And asked for my number. But I knew Guy #4 wouldn’t walk away without a fight. I grabbed his phone from his hand, typed 310-555-1134 under new contact ‘Terri’ and told him to call me anytime. He smiled and walked away.

–Read “Lucky Number “Tree”–Pt.2″ for the rest!!!

Lucky Number “Tree”–Pt.2

The lights in the club are coming on and I’m standing next to Guy #3 chit-chatting. He has a cuter, shorter friend next to him, and I wished he was the one who approached me. But I can’t be greedy right?

Guy #3 is telling me how rare it is to see women like me, the weave-less type who isn’t hounding men to buy her drinks. I nod a sincere ‘thank you’.  He is still talking about–who knows, I’m not really listening–when I interrupted and asked, “How tall are you?” “I’m six-seven,” he says.  I immediately thought of all my tall girlfriends who would be mad at me.

Guy #3: So what are you doing when you leave here?

Me: Probably go home & sleep. Is there something else I should be doing?

That was my way of asking him to accompany me to IHOP. Chunky girls gotta eat.

Guy #3: Well there’s this after hours spot that we’re all going to. You should come.

Me: After hours? Last time I went to an after hours club, everyone was doing blow off the tables. I’m cool on that.

Guy #3: Oh no no no, it’s nothing like that. It’s legit. Just swing by and have a drink with us.

Me: *squints eyes* Ok, then text me the address.

I’m almost to my car and he sent the address, directions, and parking info to my phone. Maybe this place is decent. But after all, it’s the end of a work day & I’m beat, so I decline. Sidenote: I Googled the address, everything mapped out okay.

The next day, he called and we had a hilarious conversation. It was typical get-to-know-you-before-a-real-date chatter. Not only was he charming, but he’s around my age and funny! Now I’m just waiting for him to ask me on a date. Instead, he invites me to a party at a club he’s working in Beverly Hills. He’s a bouncer, what could go wrong, right?

Again, he sends the full address, directions, and parking info to my phone. As a professional Life Planner (this means I have an agenda or to-do list for everything I do. Like going to Target, then the nail shop, stop by mailbox on the way, etc.), I’m intrigued by his details! Once I got there, I didn’t even have to wait in line; the doorman called my name so I could walk to the front. Now I’m really VIP. I get inside and he meets me by the bar. He hands me $20 to give to the bartender and says, “Order whatever you want. I’ll be standing over there.” *PAUSE* My radar kicked in and said he’s a professional panty-dropper. Women love when guys do sh!t like this.

Now I’m mad but turned on at the same time. Is he showing off or just being real?  I hate being confused. So we’re dancing in the VIP corner…and don’t ask me how I’m dancing with a 6’7″ man, just go with it…when a cocktail waitress brings cupcakes to the booth next to us. He looked at me. I looked at the cupcakes. He walked over to their table, grabbed a red velvet cupcake, and brought it back to me. Oh for real??? It’s like that??? Now I’m trapped.

The night is over and we’re walking to our cars. He holds my hand (we look like Hoopz and Shaq) and asked if I was up for the after hours spot and I gave a quick nahhh then welllll. I gave in. Now I’m trailing his S500 down the 101 toward downtown.

I should’ve know by the reference to “after hours” that this spot would be ratchet on top of ratchet. And it was. But I was blinded by Gucci Mane’s “Wasted,” Waka’s “Grove St. Party,” and some random Yo Gotti song to even notice how crummy it was. All I can think is YES! A hood-worthy playlist! Now’s a good time to note that I can barely breathe through the weed/cigarette smoke in the place.

After 2 separate lesbians on 2 separate occasions approached me, it was time to head home. It’s 4am and I have to hit Trader Joe’s in a few hours. My tall Guy #3 was watching the door then accompanied me to my car once more. Hugs. Call me tomorrow. He didn’t call. He didn’t text. But a day later he texts a message to me saying, “Are you up for an even exchange?” *PAUSE* My friend Big Booty Judy warned about these subtle statements. I know where this is going, but I don’t want to taint my glorified image of him. At least not until date #4 when I have juicy stories to tell on Girls Nite Out.

I probed him a bit more as to the details of this exchange. He said, “What do u think that means? Be honest and idk is not an answer.” Damn. That wasn’t even slick. In about 2.4 minutes he managed to send me 3 pictures of his wang with the subject Eleven Inches Do U Like. His next message read, “I wanna f–k. If u aint with the business I do understand.” Whoa. That was quick. Now I’m disappointed, I think he’s trying to give me AIDS/syphilis/a combo, and I never got the date I wished for.

I declined within a few clever words (inbox me if you wanna know), and he replied, “CHILD PLEASE! PLAY YOUR GAMES W/ SOMEBODY ELSE!” So I’m playing games? If this is a game, then please let the next one not involve cupcakes. You almost had me.

 

Miss the beginning of this story? Check out “Lucky Number “Tree”–Pt. 1″ 

 

I’ll Keep Holding On

While watching Love and Basketball these lyrics are playing as Monica watches Quincy pack his old room. I happened to land upon this scene as I’m flicking through channels to avoid being flooded by more recaps of Whitney Houston’s funeral. Oh that funeral…

It was probably the most beautiful home-going service I had ever seen. In my lifetime, I only recall seeing three. I went to four, but the last one was mostly a blur and I like to think that it never happened. But it did (now’s a good time to grab some tissue).

I was completely saddened by the loss of Whitney because like everyone says, she was like family even to her fans. We were rooting for Whitney. And to follow the death of Don Cornelius? Man, this proves that most times we have no idea what a person is facing. Just think about how much we hide behind our smiles. Personally, I hide most of my whole life. No one really knows the things that I  go through because I don’t know how want to say it. There’s no point. What would be your initial reaction after hearing something sad? “Awe, that’s messed up. I’m sorry to hear that.” Save it. Those words mean nothing without action.

One of the hardest times of my life was having to deal with the death of a close family member shortly after I relocated to LA. As I stated before, I haven’t faced death of loved ones very often. So when I heard that my cousin died, I was ruined. And on top of that, I was alone. Sure, I called a few friends to let them know I would be going home for a funeral, but only two of them reached out to me. I’d have to say I guess these friends did the best they could to…you know, be a friend for me. However, I needed so much more.

No one was there when I came home from work everyday crying. No one was there to take me to the airport crying. No one is here when, years later, I still cry. What I did feel was overbearing love from my family once I got to St. Louis. It’s amazing how tragedy brings people closer.

When something weighs heavy on my heart, I call my best friend, aka my Granny.  I was discussing the Whitney Houston situation with her and how it got me thinking: Hmm. I’m not gonna be okay if we ever have to bury you. I had to whisper it under my breath since the mere thought of it turns my stomach (I can’t even ride past Normandy High School without getting queasy, it’s next to the cemetery). But Granny assured me that I would be just fine. She said I have enough memories of her and anybody else to move on, knowing that they’re watching over us. Then she got off the phone with me to go celebrate Mardi Gras.

Granny, you’re trippin’! There is no way I can go day-to-day knowing someone I cherish will never be on the other end of the phone line again. One small part (or in my case, huge part) of us will grieve forever and another piece of you is tugged with every memory. Admit it. You keep holding on.

So I hope that the Houston/Brown family can learn to live with their loss because she’ll never be forgotten. Neither will my cousin. Hell, he’d probably be offended to know we’re trying to move one without him; he was always the center of attention.

I hold on to thousands, if not, millions of his memories. I remember when we buried watermelon seeds in the back yard just to see if they would grow. I remember how we used to read the booklet for Mortal Kombat and try new combos for ‘finishing him’. And I’ll definitely never forget the Booty Dance we made up to Outkast’s “Roses” while cleaning the grill at McDonald’s. Note to self–teach his kids this dance.

My 25 At 25

These are things that I, Rhonda, have known to be factual during my first quarter-century of life:

1) You define your own life. Don’t let others write your script. -Oprah

2) People lie.

3) Credit cards are not the devil. But you must learn to use them (and credit) to your advantage.

4) Contraception is not a bad word.

5) State-funded programs are for the needy. Sign up if you’re in need.

6) NEVER argue with anyone over age 65. They know everything and will always win.

7) People grow and grow apart. That’s life.

8) Everyone won’t be your friend. Some are just there to give you good laughs or buy you drinks, and that’s called being nice. You don’t owe them for that.

9) Do some research and learn your car. Don’t take the mechanic’s word as bond (refer to #2).

10) Incoming phone calls after 10pm should go unanswered unless they pertain to your job. 99% of the time, the call is not an emergency and you KNOW this.

11) Try everything once, good or bad, and don’t take anyone’s word for it. That way, you create your own outcome and never have to say, “Well I heard…”

12) Nothing good comes from eating the whole bag of $4 chips or more than 5 Oreos at a time.

13) Wear a scarf at the first sign of cooler weather; something my Granny would call “pneumonia weather.” For some reason, it saves you from catching a cold.

14) People think their religion is the ‘right’ one. Follow what’s in your heart because you won’t discover the truth anyway until you die.

15) Technology will keep changing. Remember how cool you thought Nintendo-64 was? Or playing Snake on your Motorola? Yeah, just wait till next year.

16) Everything costs money (unless you live with parents). Spend it!

17) If you don’t like Ice Cube, Tupac, Dr. Dre, or Snoop, then never turn on the radio in LA. Ever.

18) Hair will grow back. Eventually.

19) There are few things on this earth more beautiful than Usher, Lamman Rucker, Ndamukong Suh, or flowers respectively.

20) Never settle! That one flaw about him/her/that car/that house/that job will make you miserable if you commit to it.

21) No one under age 24 knows what it means to be in love. Studies show that your brain’s frontal lobe (responsible for higher cognitive emotions and problem solving) isn’t fully developed until at least age 21. So there.

22) If it’s on sale, wait a while, and it’ll be on sale again for less. That’s why Macy’s has a “1-day sale of the year” every weekend.

23) Olive oil loses it’s flavor as it is heated.

24) It never hurts to pay it forward. One day, you’ll wish someone paid you something…or anything!

25) Every child deserves to see both parents when they awake and fall asleep. Children are innocent and shouldn’t be subject to their parents’ immature behavior or premature decisions.

Cockiness. Persuasion. Umbrella.

Last weekend, some friends and I were in the car listening to Rihanna’s new CD “Talk That Talk.” Now, I’m not one to buy albums, but due to the recent influx of my time in traffic, I’ve shuffled through my iPod’s 600+ songs three times.

One track on Rihanna’s CD is called Cockiness (Love It). When I first heard the song, I was alone in the car and the beat caught me, so I blasted it paying no attention to what I was saying. Now that me & my buddies are riding, I’m singing the chorus, “Suck my cockiness, lick my persuasion…I love it–love it–love it when you eat it.” *PAUSE* What did you just say, Ri Ri?

Maybe I’m naive (I’ll go back to this point) but I don’t remember Rihanna being a sex symbol. I literally thought she was talking about a real umbrella years ago! I’m kidding, I understood the metaphor, but you get my point. But why did her lyrics shoot over my head to where I didn’t notice it, and my friends in the car are like “Rhonda, I didn’t know you listened to this kind of music!” Well, I don’t (60% of the time). It just gets me through traffic. Similar to R.Kelly’s “TP-Fourth Quarter”. Hmm.

Flashback to one of my most naive moments to date; I’m at a superbowl party inside a restaurant in downtown LA. A male friend invited me, but I arrived before he did. I noticed the crowd was way more mature that me, but I’m already here, right? Grabbed an empty seat at a table & ordered a glass of wine with some hot wings. Don’t judge me.

The room starts to fill and there are people standing behind me looking for a place to sit. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man’s chest. A rather toned chest & glorious biceps/triceps to go with it. Behind him was his sidekick, let’s call him New Boy. Part of me just wanted to stare like I always do, but THEY say that’s why I’m still single. So I invited Chest and New Boy to sit down at my table.

Chest appeared to be around 30 and New Boy did not look a day over 21. And they didn’t look alike, so now I’m wondering how they’re acquainted.

Me: “Hi, I’m Rhonda.” *firm handshake*

Chest: “I’m _____. And this is my homie _____.” *returns firm handshake*

Me: “Nice to meet y’all. So who are you rooting for today, Giants or Pats?”

Chest: “Well I could care less either way, I’m from St. Louis. I don’t go for either of these teams.”

Me: “HEY! St. Louis in the building, what high school did you go to???”

Our convo took a turn for the better, from our hard times adjusting to bougie LA and back to growing up in urban STL. Now, I really like Chest.

Me: “So what brings you and your friend here?”

Chest: “This is my neo, he just crossed. We’re Kappas. I live here, but he just came to kick it with me this weekend.”

My face dropped. It probably displayed my complete and utter disgust for Kappas. I mentally crossed Chest off my To Date List. Nevertheless, I enjoyed his company, flirting with him, and even twirkin’ on the dance floor (any restaurant with a DJ becomes a club-scene as liquor settles in!). The night is over, he walks me to the parking lot.

It’s been hours now that me & Chest have gotten familiar with each other. I find out that he moved here to pursue marketing/TV hosting/Olympics/whatever comes (aka he has no focus). I’m somewhat turned off, but his pecks kept winking at me.  We exchanged numbers once I got to my vehicle. He asks if I’m free for dinner tomorrow, I gave a lazy ‘yes’. I don’t want people to see me in public with this no-real-job Kappa.

Me: “So why hasn’t a guy like you found a leading lady yet?”

His eyes rolled around like a Felix the Cat clock.

Chest: “It’s complicated.”

My gut sank. He has a girlfriend.

Chest: “I’m actually married, but it’s not working out.”

*PAUSE* What did you just say, Chest?

Not only is he still married, but the wife & FOUR kids live back home in St. Louis. And in his mind, things will work out, but she needs her space right now to realize how good of a man he his. FOH.

Do you know how crazy women are? In St. Louis? She might be GPS-ing him right now, then trace my mobile number and show up at my house. And then my whole family will need major bail money for going after Crazy Chic that f’d with Rhonda Mae. I’ll pass.

Me: “Married? Then why the hell are you taking this time to get to know me?”

Chest: “I like you, you’re feisty. I wanna see where this goes.”

*PAUSE* That’s called I-wanna-bang-you-because-you-look-like-the-naive-type. F–k you, Jobless Kappa.

I was so disappointed that he went this whole night without revealing such pertinent details. Where they do that at? And he managed to send me texts just about everyday after that with ‘boo’ or ‘baby’ in them. How dreadful. This is what wearing leggings will get you: other women’s husbands! I may be single, guess I’m a little naive, too…but I’m not desperate.

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