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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