In my last post, “Boy, Bye: No More Him & I,” I detailed my most recent bitchy episode comprised of walking away from my date, leaving him dumbfounded on on NYC city street. From there, I made my way back to Jersey City. 

      I needed something to make up for how lame “Him” had been. #Confession, my number one method of satisfaction (compounded with an immeasurable self-esteem boost) is to give out my number. I’ll admit, when I get upset at the guy I’m dating, I take on a sort of muted vengeful persona where I’ve decided that if he won’t give me attention, someone will. I  (half)unconsciously do this thing where I’ll simply walk around and try to make eye-contact with guys. I know, it sounds crazy but sometimes, all you need to do it talk with your eyes. Guys love that shit. They love when you stare right at them with no hesitation. First off, it makes them feel like they have an automatic in, so it gives them the courage to approach you. Second, the simply act of making direct eye contact exudes confidence, which men also love.  It really turns into a hobby, not because I’m on the hunt for a lover… but to get some new names in my vocabulary. & New York City is the best place to play this game.

        Rule #1: You can’t always win, but you should never give up until you’re in your house and have shut the door behind you. I walked around Herald Square aimlessly for a bit… I was losing the game so I gloomily made my way home to Jersey. Never fear though, there was still time. At the Journal Square station of the PATH train, I lured my prey. From afar, he looked like a decent catch. He wasn’t too bad looking so when he asked it he could sit with me, I replied with a nonchalant “sure”. We commenced the normal introductions and at that very point, I knew I’d have to throw this one back.

    According to the intro, he was a writer of children’s books, a philosopher and a… rapper. He was on the way to the studio to… sign papers. Now, nothing against the “rapper” but most times, I just don’t believe in y’all. And some of you look like your mix-tape sucks. I’m all about music, but this guys didn’t tell me anything about himself that was stable. How was he making money? How was he paying bills?

     I stopped caring when he stood up. He was short y’all and I hate small men. I really do. Like… I really, really do. Granted I was wearing 6-inch heels but so what? I’m 5’8 more often than I’m 5’2 anyways. When he stood up, he grabbed onto his jeans, but no matter how much he tried to pull them up, they were still 2 sizes too big. I know that used to be cool, but I need a man whose pants fit. And who can fit into my lifestyle without my having to change him. I cann’t bring his ass anywhere dressing like that. I don’t know why I allowed him into my game in the first place, y’all. I think there’s something about a…. thug that’s attractive. A girl like me wants a thug.. but not toooooooooo much thug.

       I met a girl at the bank. (Sounds like I bagged her up, right?) I had to get a temp ATM card but since she was a pretty sista, we clicked and got into some really good conversation. We had a lot in common (having gone away to college, for example) and got on the topic of my moving to Harlem. She’s older than I am and felt that she should give me a little advice. She didn’t say anything overpowering, but the one thing she did say was, “and don’t date no brothas with no degree!” I fell out laughing. Because she gave me a straight answer to the question I’ve been too afraid to ask myself. I feel like a bad person if I say, “I only date guys who have degrees,” but the honest truth is that I do feel that way.

      I need a man whose life experiences are similar to mine. Having a college degree is much more than simply the education that comes with it (although that is a paramount benefit), but also for the experience that comes with it. Like… learning how to act in front of people. Having certain conversations with certain kinds of people. A different level of maturity. No offense to those who didn’t go off to college, but I  want a man who’s been in situations similar to those that I have been in.  We should have similar experiences. Sometimes, as soon as I find out a guy isn’t in school or has no degree, I feel like stopping the conversation right there. I wish I was as real as I pretend to be, that I could just say, “Look hun, this isn’t going to work out.”But I really just don’t have the balls. I know that a degree doesn’t make a man a better person… but it makes him more valuable. More profitable. More stable. & That’s what I’m looking for. & to be honest, the one thing I left out of my post “The One That Got Away,” was that he’s in school. Like… school school. Not  taking-this-intro-class-at-the-community-college-but-will probably-drop-out-soon school. Cuz I’ve met way too many of those.

   Since I’m moving to Harlem, I’m trying to decide who’s cuter, Juelz or Camron all the while wondering if Jim Jones wanted to take me out, would I go?  My friend Tiny told me the other day that I should keep my eyes open for a rapper now that I’m moving to the city. Told him I already planned on it lol. Don’t judge me, this is the stuff of Ella’s daydreams. But I only consider them because they already have money.  I don’t have the heart or the patience to see a rapper come-up. I’m sorry. I really am. I’ve considered it and tried to be a good person. But like Kanye said “When he get on he gone leave yo ass for a white girl.” I can’t have that. I’d rather have me a stable brotha with a degree to fall back on. Not to mentions if you google “Rapper groupies” all you see are pictures of Kat Stacks, SuperHead and Natalie from Bad Girls Club. Those ladies aren’t the kind of company I’d like to keep. No offense to the aspiring rappers out there, though. When you drop an album (if its any good) I’ll support you. But I can’t be supportin’ you in the meantime –especially if your trash.

       OH! the rapper! righht… his name wasss..**checks through phone** Nope. Never saved it. OH! Prince. Yup. Prince. & that’s supposedly his real name… think. His stage name was… Hollow. When I asked him why “Hollow” he said that that’s just what people called him. When I asked why again, he said to me, “I can’t be givin’ you that information.” O…..K…. Then, he went on to talk about how I must be paid cuz my building has a shuttle & how he likes my aura. (It took him a bit to pronounce “aura”,  saying it real low and slow in a “I don’t know if I’m pronouncing this right” tone. You know what I mean? lol) So I gave him my number because there’s no other way to get out of this kind of situation. & My motto is this.. (I’ll bold it for you) Just give the guy your number. No one said you HAVE to pick up his calls. Additionally, the text messages get funnier the more he pursues you. I got the “wut happened to you callin me” with subject “Hey Bae”. When I didn’t respond to that, he resent the message 20 minutes later like… Maybe she didn’t get it. LOL. The next message I received came through with the subject “Wuts wrong wit u”. The message read “U forgot about me y u actin all funny all of a sudden”. All of a sudden?

     And that’s what happened the day I gave my number to a rapper. smh. Not as exciting as we’d hoped, huh Ellas? At least I had someone to wait with me till my shuttle came. Right? But!! THE GAME HAS JUST BEGUN!!! & The point of the staring game is this: Just get yourself a little attention. Whatever it is you want to do, but didn’t want to do alone, have him do it with you. It’s really just…. disposable company. Like… tupperware… except they’re guys.