unfamiliar jism pt. 2 [prattle battle]

part one

to recap:

1. it's friday, i'm bored, and suffering from the plasmic punctuation.
2. i've just received a call from a guy, but not just any guy...the dreaded "maybe if i talk to him long enough i can convince myself he's interesting" guy.
3. our drivel skirmish has begun with him asking me about my plans for friday night.

why yes, it is a combination worthy of dry heaving, but then that'd make for a really short entry (which, judging from some of the comments in the previous entry, would be considered an improvement...)

but guess what?

this is MY blog, damnit!

so get ready for the long, drawn out, and probably unfinished version of the story.

aiight, so the battle has begun and i've gotta figure out a strategy that will:

1. get me off the phone in five minutes or less

2. let him know i'm not interested in him 'like that' but am open to hanging out with him so i am exposed to his cute and less boring friends...without looking like sup.ahead da chickenhead.

3. get me off the phone in five minutes or less

so important, i had to say it twice.

my maneuvers include:

the truth: "nothing planned. gonna just chill out here."

the whole truth: "gonna spend my night beneath the covers, squeezed into a painfully tight fetal position while i bleed for eve's sins all over the bed."

or nothing but a lie: "actually, i'm waiting for you to ask me out, as i've thought of nothing but you since we met a month ago."

without much thought, i go with an abbreviated version of the truth, coupled with my first tactical error.

"nothing planned," i say in response, "what's going on with you?"

rule number one in keeping a conversation short:

NEVER, EVER ask a question requiring an answer other than yes or no. it's the equivalent of "thank you sir may i have another?!?"

my intellect is bent over, awaiting its cerebral spanking.

"i've been out of town for the last three weekends so i'm enjoying being at home," he answers, then pauses...thus leaving himself vulnerable to my counterattack.

the bomb falls from my lips, it's descent tailed by a whistling noise as it drops from the sigh...

"cool."

this monosyllabic word annihilates even the most colloquial of opponents. when coupled with just the right amount of emotional indifference, it will not only completely obliterate a thread of conversation until it's little more than the burning embers of intented delineation, it also provides a route of escape for those seeking to be emotionally unattainable...folk like me. in fact, i've used that one more than a few times over the past year, to almost 100% effectiveness:

guy i was fucking who caught feelings during said fucking: "i love you."

me, as i swallowed the panic and urged him to keep the hips moving: "cool."

or

crazy cow (better known as my boss) after she told me i was doing a great job: "by the way...i know we just hired you, but we've been forced to do a departmental reorganization, which means your job is probably gonna be eliminated."

me, reminding myself to put on latex gloves before i strangle the bitch: "cool."

or

physician's assistant during a recent doctor's visit: "here's a topical cream for immediate relief, but you're gonna have to shave all that off in order to get rid of them all."

me, after cursing the guy who caught something else in addition to feelings, with his fast ass: "cool."

or

ex hubby: "my mom is dead."

me: "cool!"

aiight, so the last two were complete falsehoods and perhaps one shouldn't exclaim out loud how cool it is that her wicked witch of an ex mother-in-law is dead, but you get my drift...

anyhow, so i've just dropped my atomic bomb of conversation killers, cheezing into the phone in silent glee as i await erection of his white flag (that is not my pet name for his penis), ala "aiight, well i just called to [insert nonsensical blabber...just get off the damn phone already.]

breath is bated...

as i wait...

then he states...

"so you didn't do much talking last time we spoke. tell me about you."

DAMN DAMN DOUBLE DAMN!!!

he resorts to the most low down dirty, filthy, heinous, devious tactic in the history of repartee combat, a nimble inquiry piercing through my indifference until it exposes the most vulnerable part of me...

my ego.

i try to maintain my distance but i'm growing weaker. his curiosity has cut into my apathy, bleeding it of sarcasm until my response is soaked with the arrogance gushing from my exposed vain.

"hmmmz..." i begin even as i realize my plans for escaping from the cell of this conversation will be nixed for at least an additional thirty minutes (and that's with the abbreviated version where i only speak in acronyms).

i hear a sinister laugh and think nothing of it as i continue talking about all things nikki.

by the time i finish (or run out of breath, it gets blurry there towards the end...) it's 37 minutes into an exchange that was supposed to have ended 32 minutes prior.

"i dig you," he says at the end of my tale, "you seem like an earthy sista."

earthy? what da hell he mean by that?

"what da hell u mean by that?" i ask, my question straddling the fence between offense and inquisitiveness.

"i mean you sound like you're down."

what, down by law? [only atliens will get that reference]

"am i being recruited for a gang or something?"

okay, so i am being purposefully obtuse. really though...who says shit like "you sound like you down" unless they're talking about something foul? the word 'down' has all kinds of nefarious dealings attached to it: down-low, crackdown, downfall, rundown, breakdown, facedown...none of which inspire giddy goodness in a person, feel me? (actually, 'facedown' has potential for greatness in theory, but it's tied moreso to death than sex).

he laughs. i squint my eyes in distrust as i again heard that whisper of menace in his voice.

"no, of course not," he tacks on the end of the chuckle, "i mean you are down to earth."

"oh."

what do i say to that? that's unbelievably trite of you? might as well have said "girl, you deep." like i'm a pot hole or something.

"so i take it you don't have any immediate plans for tonight," he states, thus guaranteeing his election as mayor of obvious town.

"nah, not really."

"aiight," he says, "i have an idea. it'll allow us to get to know each other real well."

skepticism grabs my adventurous nature and tries to pin it down but i have too much time on my hands...tactical error number three billion two hundred twenty-one in this battle.

"okay, i'm in. what's up?"

"let's play a game of truth or dare."

"what?"

ut oh...

curiosity + boredom =

'DAAYUM! YOU GOT KNOCKED DA FUCK OUT!"

with one battle ended, a new one begins...

random musings monday

saturday, august 16
12:01 a.m. him: where u at?
12:05 me: arizona, over by ston.ecrest. where u at?
12:10 him: can i come over ma ma?
12:12 me: i'm not at home
12:17 him: can i come over ma ma?
12:19 him: can i come over ma ma?
12:20 him: can i come over ma ma?
12:30 ole girl, who just so happened to be out with me [from parking lot to me in the restaurant]: i am so tired of the not so complexed non complexities of life that really don't exist
12:31 me: PREACH (although i really didn't know what the fuck she was talking about, but figured she was ranting and needed some positive reinforcement)
12:39 him: we gon get up tonight?
12:43 me: NO
12:51 VID 00004.3gp sent to a different him: me right now [email with video attachment of band we vibing with outside]
1:17 original him: u my peoples?
1:24 me: what does that mean?
1:26 original him: nik i like u, i want u to be safe
1:30 me: im safe
1:32 him: U love!
1:36 me: U drunk!

alright gang, pop quiz:

1. at which point did original him pretty much guarantee he won't be getting any ass from me? u get a cookie if you guess correctly.
2. why do folk text when they're drunk? isn't that the equivalent of operating heavy machinery while heavily medicated? at the very least it's like jacking off for ten minutes before you realize you got your hand on someone else's dick
3. isn't 'not so complex' and 'non-complexities' the same damn thing?

what i'm beginning to realize is that navigating the dating sea means every now and again running into icebergs of idiocy.

okay, what fool thought it was a good idea to hold a live draft on saturday at 10:15 p.m.? did i join a league full of guys living in their parents basement, plastered to computer chairs encrusted with old ejaculation? who da hell is gonna be home on a saturday night for a live draft?!? if i hadn't bitched about it, i'd probably have been stuck with rex *that mofo's a* grossman as a starting qb. *shudders*

if a guy tells you he:

1. will drive you to charlotte in his car and
2. pay for the entire weekend (to be fair, we would have been staying with mutual friends so he wouldn't be paying for a whole lot)

is he being completely honest when he says "i just wanted to hang out as friends"?

kat came and picked up assassin yesterday, leaving me with one less cat to get rid of. she says she's gonna stop through to get le tigre at the end of the month. in the meanwhile, le tigre has gotten really needy and whiney. i'm not sure if it's because his in-house piece is gone (assassin was a female) but imma have to remind him my leg isn't a pussy and i'm just not all that sympathetic to a man's needs right now, even the four-legged ones.

so i'm exiting my spot yesterday afternoon and i run into blade next door. recap on blade:

1. he's black
2. he's relatively attractive (although not really my type)
3. he's got a bit o'money to burn (convertible sedan bmw in driveway)
4. he's educated (and just enrolled into school to get his ph.d.)
5. he's a snappy dresser (aiight, this one here is a stretch. last time i checked him he had on an all-white outfit with some fire-engine red gator shoes. he brought to mind casper floating over his own entrails.)
6. he's gay *le sigh*

and turns out, he's got excellent taste in men. he drives up with his newest dick in a box, a tall bottle of kahlua complete with broad chest, bald head, and salt/pepper goatee. i didn't even play it off when i was checking him. dude was dressed nicely casual in a soft green cotton polo top and loose fitting jeans that did nothing to hide the slight bow to his legs. then he spoke and it was like he was pouring his voice into the air and serving it to my ears. for the first time in my life i was mourning the fact i wasn't naturally attached to a dick. he was:

1. educated
2. fiscally comfortable
3. witty
4. fione

after making small talk with the two of them, i got in my car, backed out the drive, and drove away. the smile i had bricked to my face crumbled into dust as soon as they were out of view.

really, it just fucking sucks to be a single straight black sista in da atl. *smh*

email from hipdoc:

With the start of the new year I thought we should sit down and discuss the last several months and the future. When this week are you free?

cynical me read it like:

you're a new piece and i thought you should sit on my lap and take dicktation. i'm assuming your services are free?

my responding email:

I’m available today from noon to five, tomorrow from noon to 1 p.m., and the remainder of the week between 3-5 p.m. Let me know what works for you. [it took me ten minutes to send that email because i spent 9 minutes, 30 seconds fretting over the word 'available']

i think i'm gonna request a chaperone for this meeting, cuz i would really hate to get ethnic on this cat if he tries something.

ended the weekend on the phone with peii. gawtdamn that cat is just sexy.

aiight, so perhaps it doesn't suck all that much to be a single straight sista in da atl...