How you say broke in Spanish? ‘Me no hablo.” – Kanye West – Dark Fantasy
    On Saturday night, I played with process of elimination. I told you all in “The Freakin Weekend Part 1: Birds of a Feather” about Bank Girl and her “Designer” friend. I left out one person, though. Well… two. La Latina and her boyfriend. La Latina is super pretty. He boyfriend accompanied us all night & he was super sweet (I mean, he went with us to ol’ boy’s lame-ass after-party). Since she acted right in the club on Friday, I invited her out on Saturday. Not to mention, I was going out to a Spanish spot, 809. Since I was meeting people there, I didn’t need any company but I thought it’d be nice to invite her out. 
     I love living in the city. Usually when I would go out with my cousin, I’d have to leave Jersey at like 9 in order to make it to his house, shower & get dressed. Then, I’d have to spend the night at his house. Not that I don’t love him, but I love sleeping in my own bed. So I took a cab to the spot by myself. This might mean nothing to anyone else, but there was such a sense of freedom being able to show up by myself. I felt like… I’m from here. It felt natural. Don’t get me wrong, for some reason, I was scared as hell and nervous, too… but it felt good. Not to mention I had on a red coat which is perfect for solo appearances (told you about red coats in my post here). Partying with my cousin, in itself, is freeing. I get to go out with a male –which always gives a sense of security, but I don’t have to worry about what he’s doing. Freeeeeeeeeinnngg. 

    So La Latina shows up with her friend & boyfriend. Initially, she calls me down because they’re charging $20 at the door and she wants to know if I have pull. I don’t. Never said I did. If you show up at 2am, you gotta pay 2am fees. Eventually, we sneak La Latina’s friend in, The Drunk, so that she doesn’t have to pay. Honestly, I don’t think she had money. Neither of them did. But at least La Latina had her man with her. When we get upstairs, they then ask me what I’m drinking. It was my firend’s birthday that night, so there was a bottle of Hennessy on the table I had thoroughly enjoyed… but I know better than to offer liquor to strangers. So I told them to make their way to the bar. La Latina’s boyfriend ended up buying them all drinks. While they sipped their drinks, I danced with a boy in a pretty sweater. 
     This guy was… ok. he was sweet. Well spoken and (partially) educated. I only say that because I know he’s not dumb. he’s an art teacher. He showed me some of his own drawings (which weren’t great at all) and I surprised him by knowing that one was based on Dali’s “Persistence of Memory”. But… he didn’t offer to buy me a drink. I didn’t ask for one, I just think it’s customary.  So for the next round, La Latina and I headed to the bar and I bought her a drink (since she had to pay to get in), and myself a glass of some triflin’ house Chardonnay. 
    As I’m sipping and mingling I turn around to see La Latina straight whoopin The Drunk. They’re fighting each other. Like… uppercuts. lol. The bouncers pull them apart. I look at The Drunk and she’s bleeding from the face. I ask La Latina what happened and she explains that The Drunk wanted another drink but she had said no and… that’s really all I understood. I yelled a customary “Call me!” down the club’s get-your-ass-out-of-here secret door and tried to figure out WTF had happened. It was at this point that I realized that my cousin and all his friends had left me in the club. LOL…  
    After apologizing to the guy in the pretty sweater, he agreed to walk me out. “We should get something to eat,” I suggested. To which he responded that he needs to go to the ATM. But he never did. I order my $10 meal: Mangu con Salchicon y huevos y un pedacito de chicharon!!!! I wouldn’t trade being Dominican for anything. and I pay with my card –which mean he could have paid with his card. Look, I’m Dominican and Cuban. Two types of Hispanic. But I don’t even say broke in Spanish — Me no hablo! But since I got more than 10 bucks, I pay without hesitation & don’t even think about it till later. I don’t let it ruin the mood. Meanwhile, he’s being the perfect gentleman. He even got up to get me a knife when I asked. I only asked for the knife though because I asked him how he felt about me licking my fingers. (I lick my fingers, okay? I try not to but… chicharon still taste good as hell on my fingertips.) And we talked about nothing. Apparently he was in the club by himself, too and we got onto the topic of being alone. 
      I started talking about how I don’t have guys up in my house. I explained that when you’re all up under somebody you get sick and tired of looking in their face all day. you have to do things. You have to get out. You can still enjoy the world around you. That’s when he went into the “only time will tell” and “eventually” bullshit. No, nigga. I dont have guys all up in my shit. I’m not sure which word he didn’t understand, but from this conversation, I already knew what his game was. He’s the type to say sweet things and hopes to get invited up. He’s the type that wants to “spend time”. Maybe we can “watch a movie.” You know. That shit. He’s obviously not the type to spend change. My $10 meal was too much for him to man up and offer to pay for. After our conversation, I knew not a damn thing about him. He said nothing. He wasn’t interesting. He had nothing to bring to the table. He just wanted to be cool in his pretty sweater. 
       So after I finished eating, we went to a sorry corner store to use the sorry ATM machine where his sorry ass withdrew 20 sorry dollars. Wait….I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m being ruder than is justified here but let me just express the true feelings. He had nothing to offer me. No good conversation. I felt nothing. It was me talking the whole time and he seemed to be a bit afraid of me. While we were dancing, he kept saying “Why do I feel like I’ve known you forever,” and while that sounds nice, that’s a sorry ass line. He’s the type of guy who pretends to be more than he is. He was pretended to be this great artist with terrible paintings. Meanwhile, he explained to me that he liked me cuz I didn’t look like the fake girls in there with make-up on to which I responded, “I have make up on.” & plenty of it y’all. Eye Lashes, too. When he asked me what I liked about him, I said, “Your sweater.” I wasn’t lying. I liked his outfit more than I liked him. & I didn’t mind walking out the club with him. Or sitting, eating in public with him. But…. I didn’t like him. 
     We exchanged numbers. And that took him long enough to do. I needed to get into my cab so I wanted to hurry the sorry situation up. I don’t know if he was expecting me to invite him with but… that’s not me. “We’re going in opposite directions,” I pointed out, just to make sure. & I went home to my comfy ass bed & wasn’t sorry about it at all.  And,  his sorry ass didn’t ask me if I got home safe until 2 days later. And not as a convo started either… like.. halfway through the conversation, he hit me with a a “Oh and did you get home safe that night?” No, genius, I was kidnapped, raped and killed but I’m still texting you. Thanks for your chivalry.  I really have the worst luck with guys. & Luckily I don’t go to the club for them. I went to the club because my real boyfriend would be there waiting. Tall, dark & strong. He never lets me down & his name is non other than Hennessy. I call him Big H. The only one I let put me  to bed. 
I’m not a lesbian but… I just don’t like men


        Now I’m not sure if I’ll speak to him again. More than I have already txted at least. & I’m not sure I’ll go out with La Latina again. I’m just not sure of these encounters can go past this one night. This is a one night stand for me… not you sleeping in my bed and walking away with a piece of me. It’s you being fortunate enough to spend the night conversing with me. That’s all I wanted. That’s all I needed. If you don’t make the cut that first night… I can’t tire myself with pretending any further. I’m done. I’m tired. I’d rather be alone. This applies to both men and friends. I just don’t have the time or space for extra people. 



*          *          *           *          *          * 

If you missed details of the night before this one… here it is: “The Freakin Weekend Part 1: Birds of a Feather.” 

& then… there’s the day after. The Freakin Weekend Part 3: Sufficient in Solitude