If you really wanna find someone to get some behind. I ain’t the one for you. If you really wanna know, boy you need a silly ho to do whatever you want to do. TLC “Silly Ho”
I just fuckin cried y’all.
Maybe I shouldn’t air out all my dirty laundry but I’m know looking wide-eyed into this screen, wiping my eyes and my nose on the inside on my right hand (isn’t that gross?) after having literally said to myself “What the fuck are you doing?”
I have a problem. I find a guy I like and I string myself to him. I daydream a bunch of BS Him&Her fantasies and mentally plot out our lives together. I do this. I really do. It’s bizarre to say the least but it’s how I justify talking to one guy over another. I play the whole “can I see myself with him” game and trick myself into falling in love.
Here’s what the fuck just happened: (FYI, there’s going to be more cursing in this post because I’m half-upset and it’s the most effective way to express my feelings in scribe) This dude, yes, “Him,” loves to sweet talk me. The problem is, he sweet talks me in way where I can’t really prove he’s sweet talking me. He’ll say shit that’s really sweet and then in the next text message, he’ll turn it real dirty. Lost in the ever-builiding slideshow of text messages in my Samsung Vibrant, it’s difficult to sift through the 813 messages between us and find my proof when he says “How am I sweet talking you?”
He’s got game y’all. Stupid game.. but game none-the-less. His pet-names for me vary from Ms. Wonderful to Ms. Beautiful. I mean… c’mon, right? You’d love it, too! I get the “I miss you” messages as well as the.. wait… let me find it…..HA!! ok.. “I’d do whatever I had to too satisfy you plain and simple”. Now that sounds nice… but I think he was talking about sex. Yup… Now that I read that exchange again… He def was. Now anyone who knows me knows it takes a while for me to catch on to sex jokes. And anyone who knows me even better knows that when I hear the terms “whatever” or “satisfy”, I think material things. I think in monograms… Not in body parts. Cuz I don’t want body parts. I want shoes and purses. So… yea…stuff like that tripped me up lol.
I think I just confuse myself. I blur the truth to myself. I read Carl’s blog, today and he mentioned that while he gives good advice, he rarely takes it for himself. “Sometimes, I should record my advice and replay it to myself, ” he wrote. But… Isn’t that what this blog is for me?? More reason I’m more of an idiot than I care to admit. “Him” puts too much of an emphasis on sex, hence the post “Sex Craved Nice Guy.” (Strike one.) He has a kid, so I wrote “Step Mommy.” (Strike 2.) Then, this nigga took me shopping and I got all googly eyed. LMFAO. (I’m sorry but I really have to laugh at myself for that one. I really do love money, y’all. I can’t even front.) I’m the one who wrote in “The Exceptions” that women shouldn’t make exceptions. What a fuckin hypocrite!
Oh yea.. why I cried (LMFAO, I’m so fuckin soft. What’s wrong with me?!?) So… we’re texting, right. And… it gets all serious after the “I miss you” bullshit followed by “What are some of your interests. I want to learn one and share it with you,” which was then follow by a picture of his… body parts. To which I respond by saying that I’m afraid to send him pics (not because I’m shy, but because his body is pretty spectacular and I don’t want him to see my B+ stomach lol) and he thinks it’s because I have “trust issues”. (BTW, “trust issues” is my staple excuse for not having sex.) So I asked him if he even wants someone in his life right now.. since he has so little time. So he responds, “No. Goodnight.” So I asked him if I should delete his number. He then apologized. He also wrote that he thought we should be “friends”. Friends? I don’t fuckin like people. I’m not friends with anyone and less am I friends with men because men always want to try their hand and you’re great friends until you’re both alone in a room and… WTF. So I ask what “friends” means. He tells me we can hang out and go places together.
If you’re keeping count with me you’ll notice he hasn’t struck out yet. I’m going to be fair here. He has one strike left. OK. We’ll be freinds, I said. Then I said goodnight and fell into some bizarre sort of quick, mini, mild depression. I stuffed my face into my pillows and let it out. Honestly, it was because I felt alone. I mean, he is “Him” based solely on the fact that he’s the only guy I’m talking to at the moment. And after I made all the exceptions, he seemed to be a good guy. I haven’t been “loved” in so long, that it just felt nice to pretend. To have someone text me good morning, you know? Someone who was cute… and not broke. Luckily I ain’t no silly ho. That is why I wrote “Celibate in the City.” No, I have not slept with him. No I will not sleep with him. Is he a good guy? Yes. Does that mean I should let him slide up in this? Hellllll No. Wait… let me say that again, just as a reminder to myself. Hellll fuckin NO.
We’ll be friends. We’ll go out. He’ll also still pay. He’s going to try his hand. And when he does, he’s going to be highly upset. No holding hands. No slick cheap rubs. No kisses. I don’t do that stuff with friends. When he tries his hand, his hand better have a credit card in it because I’m talking this nigga alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll the way to the fuckin bank… well the register at least. Judge me if you want. But men try to buy women all the time. I came across this girl’s Facebook page today. Her name is Tatiana. And I must admit, she really is a bad bitch. She posted up pictures of jewelry some lame bought her (trying to buy her) and TAGGED this man in the photos. It’s hilarious. Check her out. Men think they’re slick.
So here’s the plan: I’ve already picked out the gifts I want for the holidays I laid out in “Celibate in the City“. He spent $250 on maybe our 3rd date and it wasn’t a holiday. So I figure I can get into the 4 digits by my birthday. April is also the 6-month marker he thinks he’s aiming for to get in this. (I told him I already know what I’m going to wear for him 😉 lol I mean, I do… This is a dinner dress. I’m not having… intercourse… until I get a 3 course meal at a 4+ star restaurant after a day of shopping. Forreal, I’m not playing with these niggas anymore.) So I spent the other day browsing Tiffany.com. Wanna see what I want? This necklace with these earrings to match. Totaling an measly $675. Simple shit really. Especially for a supposed baller like him lol. But that’s not 4-digits… so Valentine’s Day maybe?
I’m gonna get everything I can out of him. For the fun of it. Because he made me cry (LMFAO. But I promise I stopped like… WTF and literally LOL’d at myself as I opened up my Mac to write this post. I’m a MESS.) I’m not doing this because I need him… honestly, I’ll just get the jewelry for myself if he isn’t around for my birthday (I told y’all in “Table for One, Please” that I’m dating myself.) FYI, I’ve never been a silly ho, but I’ve also never been a “Silly bitch waiting to get rich off a nigga’s bank account. I have always had my own things. Bought my own rings. Not gone let [a nigga] play me out.” (That’s the next verse in “Silly Ho”)
Thing is, I was making the exceptions for him. But he wants all the perks of a relationship without any of the obligation. He tries to make sure he’s the only one and claims to be able to do A, B and C. But then we’re just friends? It’s not that I’m looking for something serious… but I’m looking for someone willing to give it a chance to grow. I mean… maybe this is his way of doing that. Maybe it’s my baggage making me this way… but I promised myself I’d never get played again. So if I do him dirty (as in taking whatever gifts he decided to swipe for), that’s his issue. There’s no gun to his head. And there’s also no ring on my finger.
WTF. I cried! lol.