Posts Tagged ‘ no sex ’

Club Chronicles: Niggas vs Bobby

No explanation required. Read on.

1. I’m trying to be nice but you’re about to make me strong-arm you to the other side of the dance floor. Sir, my friend obviously doesn’t want to dance with you, so maybe you should stop trying. I understand how you might think I’m blocking, but that’s only because you can’t see the “get this fool away from me” face she’s making. No, no. I don’t want to dance with you either. No, no. Neither does she. We’re fine, sir. Thanks. No, no, I said we’re fine, thank you. Are you following us?! No, no. We’re just going to dance with each other, we really don’t want you to join in.

2. WHOA, WHOA WHOA!!!!!! Hold up, pal! Did you just put yourself in the middle of our all-girls circle?! What were you thinking?! Stepping into the middle of our dance circle is like taking your cousin to the prom—–good in theory, terrible in execution.

3. Hold up there, old ass African. You touch me again, and I’ll turn your pretty velvet blazer into a bar mop to soak up this drink I’m going to accidentally spill on you.

4. “Hey, how are you? Can I buy you a drink check your coat?”

5. What would EVER make you think that it’s ok to touch my hair? EVER? It doesn’t look like a weave, so I know you’re not trying to satisfy your curiosity. I understand that it looks luxurious and you can’t keep your hands off of it, but you don’t see me rubbing every beautifully bald head that I see. Restrain yourself. Or die.

6. Oh, no. He sees that my friend went to the bar, and now I’m standing here alone. He’s about to pounce, I can feel it in my drunken bones. I can smell him from here and he wreaks of perverted-man-wanting-to-jump-my-bones-ness. Doesn’t anyone else see this T-rex approaching me?! Why isn’t anyone saying anything?! STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER!

7. “Hi, (extends hand) I’m Bobby Ray Aldeson. Do you want to dance?” Soooooo, you’re just gonna come up to me and introduce yourself without grabbing my booty or violating some other portion of my bubble? Bobby, I don’t know if you noticed, but this is a Black club. Well, maybe you did notice. Ok, maybe something like being the only White person in a sea of color is hard to miss. I feel the same way when I go to Whole Foods.  Wow, I really appreciate you asking about my life and my night before you start grinding on me from behind. That’s cool. Bobby, you’re freakin awesome, of COURSE I’ll dance with you! I gotta tell you, being the only White person at a Black club is one sure way to dance with anyone of your choice. I don’t know why, but we just appreciate you making the effort to come out, and thus feel drawn or even compelled to oblige your corny advances. Wow, look at you just respecting my space and getting your half-beat boogie on. What am I drinking? Ciroc and lemonade will do just fine, Robert. Nobody has ever asked me before what I was drinking, and then when I gave my answer, replied, “Maybe I’ll get you one a little later.” ?!?!?!?!?!?!? Bobby, that’s not how this works, but your asshole-ish nature is just soooooo smooth!!! You know what Bobby? You’re a smooth dude. You respect the rules of girlfriends dancing with each other to certain songs without trying to hump your way into our circle, you have great conversation, and you’re dressed nicely. And you cut a mean rug. And you finally bought my drink, and got one for my girl too.  Above all, you can come and strike conversation with a beautiful stranger, enjoy my company, and go on about your business. Let’s be facebook friends. 🙂


Dating Don’ts

I have taken the liberty of compiling a list of things that men should not do on a date with a woman, particularly a first date, and specifically, with me. The items listed below are sure to make any man lose panty points with me, and usually will not end in a follow-up date.


It’s a great compliment when a man admiringly gazes at you and tells you things like, “Your eyes are gorgeous.” or “You are so beautiful.” However, it can be a little uncomfortable, and damn near disturbing when your date won’t take his eyes off of you. My natural reaction to that would be, “The fuck you lookin at?!” But that’s not so nice. So rather than put either one of us in this awkward position, please limit your stares to eye contact when speaking, and maybe a 3-second glance here or there. Anything beyond that makes you look creepy.

Eat before you arrive.

This one really grinds my gears. When men and women go out on a date, especially a first date, they’re usually trying to make a good impression on the other party. For women, this means that you don’t display your true eating habits until the 3rd or 4th date. So, in order to achieve this, we eat very little and very carefully. We place our napkin in our lap, cut everything to half the size we would ordinarily cut it, and we avoid items that may potentially be a mess. In other words, we do all that we can to not draw attention to our food consumption. For this reason, there is nothing you can do to make a woman more uncomfortable on a date than to make her eat alone (and stare at her). Did you know that you were coming to this restaurant to have dinner with me? I’m pretty sure you did, because you not only arranged this little encounter, but you chose the restaurant. So if you knew we were coming to a restaurant, why in Sam-hell would you eat before the date?!  If you didn’t want to be an active participant in the dating experience, you should have suggested something that didn’t require eating an entire meal.

Eat like a savage.

There are some exceptions to the aforementioned irritant. There are some who can’t wait to eat on the date, and when they do, they display all kind of uncouth and impolite habits. Sir, would you mind cutting that poor, lifeless piece of steak as opposed to picking up the entire slab and biting into it? Sir, your moth is but so large, and can accommodate but so much. Why do you feel it necessary to load it to capacity, not leaving room to chew, which will result in an unsightly preview of what’s to be swallowed? Eww. Sir, please refrain from using your fingers to help your fork along. You’re going to end up licking them and that’s pretty gross.

Share insults, no matter how mild.

Really? So you think I’m stuck-up, huh? Was this just when you first met me, or you think the same now? Oh you do? Then why are we still going out? No, no, that’s what you meant. You just didn’t think I’d get upset about it. Sure, you can explain….. I’m listening, Mofo! Yeah, no that didn’t clear anything up. So because I didn’t want to give you my number, that made me stuck-up? I think that makes me honest. I could’ve just lied and said I had a boyfriend instead of telling you the truth and letting you know that I just don’t want to be your friend in any capacity. What about now, why am I still stuck up? Did it ever occur to you that I just didn’t want to have sex with YOU? What about my hair?! I mean, yeah, I just washed it and curled it today, but I think it looked fine every other time I saw you. I don’t care if you think my ponytail makes my head look big. Go to hell.


Don’t reach for my hand. Don’t touch my leg. Don’t link arms with me like we’re BFFs in the 7th grade. Don’t put your arm around me. Don’t put your hand on the small of my back. AND FOR GOD’S SAKE, DON’T TOUCH MY HAIR!!!!! It makes me uncomfortable, and I don’t feel compelled to share my space with strangers. If I want to be touched, I’ll let you know.

Be late.

Well, you can be late if you want to, but just don’t expect me to go with you.

Talk about your past all night.

And by past, I mean relationship history, criminal history, “I’m so glad I got out the hood cause if I had stayed, I’d be dead or in jail” history, and anything else that makes for unattractive conversation. Am I saying that I never expect a man to bring up the things that shaped him into the person before me? Absolutely not. I’m just asking that we limit the depressing conversation to a minimum, only because there are so many other interesting things to talk about. Even if the subject does come up, I just don’t feel it necessary to talk about it every time we share a pitcher of margaritas.

Order for me.

I didn’t even realize that this was something I disliked so much until recently. Maybe because I wasn’t aware that in 2009, men still took the liberty of ordering for their date. This becomes especially irritating when my date orders a drink for me. I think it’s a very bold move for a man to order a cranberry and vodka for me because that’s what he’s drinking. Very bold, indeed. And the wrong move. I’m not judging you for having what you fancy, but I don’t want that shit. For all you know, I may not even want any alcohol because I’d like to stay as sober as possible to keep from letting alcohol make the “I’m only doing this because I’m going to later blame it on the alcohol” decisions. On the contrary, I may want something much stronger to help me survive this tired ass date and your rant about your juvenile record. The exception to this rule is if and only if I mention beforehand what I like to drink, and you have my beverage of choice waiting for me when I return from the ladies’ room. That will get you panty points. Order my food, and I’m leaving.

Be rude to the server.

I understand that you want to play “Big Willie” and give me the impression that you’re in charge. I get it. However, that doesn’t warrant rude behavior toward the server that poured a glass of water for you when you prefer a bottle of VOSS. Disrespecting others is never attractive. Neither is belittling people whom you feel don’t have equal status in society to make yourself feel superior. All it’s going to do is piss me off, and want to get the date over with even sooner.

Ask if I want to put it on the bill and/or tip.

I like Beyonce and Tyra Banks just as much as the next chick, but you will never see me screaming “I’M AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN” from the mountaintops. I’m very old school and very traditional, which means that a date lacking chivalry is a date that won’t be followed by another. When a man asks me out, I expect him to pay for my meal and everything else on the date. Period. Not period, but at least on the first 2 dates. After that, I usually volunteer to contribute, but NEVER if I’m asked. I understand everyone’s pockets are tight, which is why I believe that if you can’t afford to take a woman on a date, you shouldn’t ask. Am I a gold-digger? No. Do I want to date a penny-pinching, cheapskate? Hell no.

Hold your breath. You’re not coming in. Not even to use the bathroom, Slick.

I have a rule about men knowing where I live. I typically don’t do it. I have made an exception here or there when a man asks for a date and actually says that he wants to pick me up. I’m cool with that. Sometimes. Other times, I just tell him I’d rather meet him there. However, just because I let you pick me up, doesn’t mean I feel comfortable enough with you coming inside. This is for three reasons: A) I’m a woman and I live alone. B) When I’m ready for our visit to be over and you’re not, it can get a little awkward when I ask you to leave. C) I’m not boning you. So, thank you for the evening, but no, you are not welcome inside my home. Not even to “use the bathroom.” This is where it ends. If I want the date to venture into nighttime activity, I’ll tell you to take me home so I can get my car, and then I’ll follow you home.

Call your child(ren)’s mother at the table.

I understand you have familial obligations. Cool. If there’s some pertinent business pertaining to your child(ren) or anything else for that matter that you need to take care of, please excuse yourself from the table, and go handle your business. You lose no panty points for that. But for Pete’s sake, please don’t call your baby’s mother to ask what your daughter wants for Christmas while we’re having dinner. RUDE!!! What do you honestly think is going through my head while you’re sitting there with the phone glued to your ear? I’ll tell you what I’m thinking: “While you’re on the phone, I’m going to go ahead and take this opportunity to text Mike and let him know I’m coming over in about an hour. As a matter of fact, let me go ahead and order a couple more drinks on this clown’s dime so I can get nasty with Mike. I get pretty nasty with Mike when I drink. Yeah…. Mike.” So, please, chat away.