Sunday, October 14, 2012
This. Is. My. Life. (Black men version)
yeah, this is gonna be a bit of a ramble. hang if you can hang.
i have a problem with sleeping. it has to do with the depression. i know. but anynoodle, i either sleep hardly at all OR fall into this coma-like state with really vivid dreams and wake up once i escape it. Friday morning was the latter. i woke up and it was light outside. never good. i realized i left every wearable pair of pants in the washing machine last night and…. yeah, fell asleep. so i get up put clothes in the dryer. pull the twins uniforms together, pick up my cell to check the weather. dead. yeah i didn’t plug it in last night. this is shaping up to be a rock star morning for the kid.
plug the damn phone in and immediately get a text at 7 am from a dude i haven’t gotten a text from in at least 3 months. just “good morning”
i shoot back. “you text about once every 3 months. but you never call. i don’t get it.”
(backstory: known him at least 8 years, maybe 10. decent guy. had sex once. been known to have a semi-sextual flirtation in the past. had begun to kick it rather regularly about a year ago then he fell off the planet.)
he texts back: i know, i’m sorry. work and school.
then 2nd text: could you send a pic?
dude? really? you are hitting me up at 7 in the morning hoping to get a pic of my boobs or snatch to get your day started? really? grown men. is there where we are??? but i digress… i simply texted back: “there is free porn all over the net. get you some of that. thanks.”
But still, i’m having a lovely day. pull jeans from the dryer. fluff the untwisted twisties. get the kids to school. make it to the office (i.e., Starbucks at the corner of 7th and H streets, Chinatown) order my Refresh tea and break-fast sammie. (the toffeenut breve latte last night on a empty stomach is playing havoc w/ my insides so no coffee) settle in and get a call from a PRIVATE NUMBER.
only two people call me from private numbers… both have women who live w/ them. one is married. I say hello. it’s the married one.
me: Hey A—-n.
him: What’s up trouble?
me: Nothing. and why i gotta be trouble?
him: You don’t have to do anything, you just are.
him: Where are you?
me: Starbucks. Chinatown.
him: Well, i’m in traffic right now but i have to do something in the city. can i call you in an hour?
harmless conversation, right? this one right here? (backstory: me and A—-n used to have a LOT of sex. i met him online probably 1999/2000 and we hooked up strictly to fuck. kinda kinky. very verbal. serious sex. he’s kind of an asshole. a little arrogant. extremely cocky. but we never had a relationship beyond the sex. he does some type of uber military work, he used to fly helicopters and get sent all over the world to these remote locations doing god knows what but fucking every woman he came in contact with but always managed to stay in touch with me. calling me from international locations and telling me his exploits. perpetual bachelor. ridiculous attitude but funny and charming in his own way. the last time he came back home from overseas he came to my birthday party. this was 2 years ago or so. we have since evolved into just friends. we haven’t had sex in at least 4 years but he’s my boy. oh, when he came to my party, he gave me a ride home and told me he was married. the wife is from … oh, i forget central Africa somewhere, can’t remember the country… but i was way surprised. i never even heard this man talk about anyone he CARED about enough to do anything resembling getting married. but whatever. now he’s married. with two little boys. 4 and 2 i think. and he always calls from private numbers and does nothing but complain about his marriage. it is so typical and hilarious.)
and i suppose we’re having lunch. if he calls back. LOL
OOOOHHHHH and the baby father has resurfaced after no contact for a month because i have been “giving his pussy away”. Dude? we haven’t had sex since 2008.