Halloween Post: Scariest Things to Hear While Dating

Photo: Photo: brandthunder.com

I realize Halloween is technically next week, but since this is most likely the weekend that many adults will get dressed in costumes to celebrate it, I figured it would be fun to do a post on the scariest things you can hear while dating – today.

Now, obviously, probably three of the scarier things you can hear are “I’m pregnant,” “I’m leaving you,” and “The doctor says I’m HIV positive,” but there are certainly many more. In fact, some of these statements may be even scarier than your favorite scary movie. (Incidentally, when I was younger, my favorite scary movie was Boogie Nights. What was yours?)

So what could be scarier than watching the Shining before walking down the long hallway in my apartment complex? These comments below:

I found an earring in your place… and it’s not mine.

I think I ripped the condom.

I’m not really a man/ a woman.

Your penis is how long???…. followed by LAUGHTER.

Woman: I love role playing! How about you be the woman tonight and I’ll go get my strap-on.

I love you (3 weeks into the relationship).

I don’t love you anymore (3 years into the relationship).

It burns when I urinate.

I think Supahead is the perfect model for being a good girlfriend.

She/he smashed the homie.

I think I just saw your boo in a pRon movie. No, wait – I’m pretty sure I just saw him/her.

Let’s go on Maury! I have something to tell you.

Woman: Fine. (right after an argument)

Man: Nothing’s wrong. (right before an argument)

Okay, that’s all I have for now. Can you all think of any others?

PS: Your girl is dressing up as a Saints football player this weekend – black and gold all over, with hot pink accessories. My Nikes are hot pink and so is my football and lipstick. And of course, I’ll be putting the black lines under my eyes. GEAUX SAINTS!!! What are you dressing as???

Walking Across the Stage: Shoe Story

Yes, this is what I imagined the stage of my high school graduation ceremony to look like./ Photo: IllustrationSource.com

“Those shoes are so hot,” exclaimed my best friend. “But how are you going to walk across the stage with them?” At the time of her original question, I deadpanned Annie* with one of those looks that could only mean “are you serious?” and kindly informed her that I would have no problem with my new silver, strappy 4 inch sandals. Twenty minutes later, and with our procession into the UNO Lakefront Arena quickly coming upon our graduating class, I was now ridiculously nervous.

What if I hadn’t practiced my strut enough, and I looked like one of those girls who’s never walked in heels? Or what if (gasp!) I actually tripped on. the. stage? It was more than I could handle, and I gradually began to psych myself out. Here I was, standing in front of the line (yay for a last name early on in the alphabet!), and I was practically sweating through my graduation cape. This was no easy feat either, since I had on a particularly cool feeling, flowerey summer dress, and the powers-that-be had managed to crank the AC to infinity in the arena. Yet, I was starting to sweat so much, I was worried that not only would I trip on stage, but I’d also be the girl who tripped on stage with the huge arm pit sweat stains.

Seriously, I was wreck.

But as we began walking down the makeshift aisle they’d made for us, my nerves slowly went away. “What was I so scared about really,” I thought to myself. “This was nothing new! I walked around in heels all the time.” And as I sat with the rest of my class, having made it through the first part of my test without any issues, I knew I’d have no problems whatsoever when the time came for me to get on that stage. That stage was going to be my runway! And I…. was going to be Naomi.

We sat there for what seemed like hours, but was really only minutes, especially since our valedictorian and salutatorian were nice enough to do a combo speech. And then it was time for the names. And the walking. My row was the first one to get in line near the stage, and as I watched some of my classmates seamlessly walk across the stage, my confidence continued to swoon about the likelihood of me not making a massive fool of myself in front of the maybe 700 people in attendance.

I raised my head (like the good society lady my grandmother taught me to be throughout the years) and began my Naomi Campbell walk. Up the steps. To the middle of the stage. Step by step, I made my way to my principal and that diploma he held in his hand. Step by step, my smile widened as I realized not only was I receiving my high school diploma, but there would be no hidden rocks on the stage to trip me up.

Away from the middle of the stage, I walked, confident that the worst was behind me. Grinning to my family. Palming the diploma in my hand. And then it happened.

I missed a step.

Horror meet my face, please.

I tried to quickly gather myself and pretend as if the world didn’t see the mishap that occurred. I hurried down the rest of the steps and practically flew to my seat. “I didn’t actually fall,” I told myself. “A mere trip wouldn’t register on anyone’s radar.” And I comforted myself with that proposition until I saw my family after the ceremony.

My mom, bless her heart, ran up to me with such pride in her eyes. “I’m so happy for you baby,” she cried out. “And don’t worry, I’m sure no one saw you trip down those steps.”

Right. No one saw but it was the first thing you mentioned, mom? I could have died right then and there. But I wouldn’t have bequeathed the curse of those shoes to my worst enemy. So I stood there and smiled like all was okay – vowing never to wear them again.

* Name was changed.

PS: If you’d like to be featured as a brief shoe story (anonymous or not), send me a pic of your favorite pair of shoes and information detailing a moment when you wore them. You can send the information to me @darbybaham on Twitter or email me at contact@darbybaham.com. *NOTE: I may have to contact you more for information, depending on the details of your story*

Dating Red Flags

 

“Soooooooooo, ummm, I mean what you like to do, for you know, fun or whatever?”

Sigh. That’s actually how my conversation started with this guy who wanted to take me out on a date a few years ago. I mean, really – there’s awkward (which I definitely know a lot about) and then there’s just wrong.

This conversation was all kinds of wrong. It felt so forced, it was literally painful to continue forward. And the crazy part is that after 20 minutes of an extremely stalled conversation in which the man actually offered taking me to church on a first date (what?!) and then tried to tell me how he liked trying different types of food, like “you know macaroni and cheese and baked chicken,” I was done. I knew right then, this was not going to go anywhere.

But obviously, every time you meet someone or go on a first date, it won’t necessarily be that obvious that a second date shouldn’t occur. Sometimes the date will be going well and one word will ruin the night or maybe as nice as the guy is, the chemistry just wasn’t there. Now I’m no dating expert, but I think we all have red flags that tell us it’s time to get the heck up outta here.

Here are a few of mine:

You don’t listen

This same guy started off so well, y’all. When he approached me, it was very respectful and not on some, “yo ma with the blue jeans on” type mess. No, he walked up to me, said HI, told me his name and said he would like to get to know me. Cool, I thought to myself… so I gave him name and phone number and told him to call me when he had a chance. When he called, as I explained, the conversation wasn’t the best but not all guys are comfortable on the phone so I tried to give the guy a chance… until I realized he wasn’t listening to a word I was saying. In one minute he’d asked me what I’d like to do on a first date, to which my response was that I’m pretty open but the one thing I don’t want to do is go to the movies. Do you know this fool then turned around and suggested we go to the movies on our first date? Seriously? THEN he suggested church. At that point, I felt like I was getting punked. Fellas, please whatever you do – just make sure you listen to our answers. I promise that one thing right there will take you further than anything else.

You can’t find the funny

Now I’ve told you all that I can be a bit of a cornball sometimes. And you already know I’ve had my fair share of word vomitty moments. Heck, I was so nervous with this one guy that I sizzled my hand in his car. Yeah, you read that right. His window fogged up and when he mentioned that it was strange for that to happen and he wasn’t sure why it did that, your girl here said, “It’s because I’m so hot.” And then proceeded to take my right pointer finger, touch my left hand and make the sizzle noise. I was embarrassed when I did it. I was embarrassed when I told my friends. I’m thoroughly embarrassed writing about it right now. But you know what? He didn’t look at me like I was crazy. He made a joke about it. We laughed and we moved on. I mean, if you can’t find the funny in someone being so nervous that they not only commit serious word vomit, but they also SIZZLE THEIR OWN FRIGGIN HAND, you can’t find the funny in anything really.

Interview vs. Conversation

I’m a writer. Not just on the blog, but like in life. My job is as a writer. But I started off as a journalist. Daily newspapers, broadcast TV, hard news – you name it… that was me. So unfortunately, there are 2 problems that come with that. A) I’m much more comfortable asking questions than answering them and B) it’s very easy for me to go into interview mode if the conversation is stalling. Now you may be asking why my issues affect the guy getting a second date. Here’s why – because the mere fact that either one of us is asking questions as if it’s an interview means that the conversation isn’t organic. You’ve been there before. It goes a little something like this:

Guy: “Oh, so what do you like to do for fun?”

Girl: Umm, all kinds of stuff. I love sports, but I also like history and museums. I love music, so I’m always down for a concert. I mean, really as long as I’m spending time with good people, I’m probably going to enjoy myself. What about you?

Guy: Oh you know the same.

Silence.

Guy: Soooo what’s your favorite sport?

Girl: Football. You?

Guy: Basketball.

Girl: Oh yeah, who’s your favorite team?

Guy: I don’t really have one.

Girl: Oh ok, well I’m a huge Laker fan.

Guy: Oh.

Silence.

Really??? This conversation is blowing me and I totally just made it up. Although it is indicative of some conversations I’ve had in the past. Really, sir? Your favorite sport is basketball and you have no favorite team? AND you have NO thoughts on the Lakers being my favorite team? Everybody knows if you love basketball, you either love or hate the Lakers. There’s really no in between. Let me move on before this fake convo infuriates me even more lol,

I can’t take you home to my family

Ok, this is very subjective, but really everything on here is – so whatevs. What does it mean when I say I can’t take you home to my family? I think it’s kind of like porn in that there’s no real definition, but you know it when you see it. I once dated a guy who had a tongue ring. He was a really nice guy, but there’s absolutely no way he was going to make into my parents’ house, my grandparents’ house or be around any of my cousins or sisters with that tongue ring. It just wasn’t going to happen. I can hear my uncle/god father pulling me to the side right now to have a conversation with me. And yes, we’re only talking about date #2 here (and incidentally we dated for awhile, so this wasn’t as much of a deal breaker as I initially thought), but if I can’t take you home to my family if things get serious with us – what are we doing here?

And if you think I’m just being paranoid, I’d like to present exhibit a) my mom’s dad (my pawpaw) tells us all the time how one of my uncle’s called himself getting braids one time. My pawpaw saw him coming up the driveway, so he dead bolted all the doors and wouldn’t let my uncle in the house until he took the braids out. As far as he was concerned, only women wore braids, so unless my uncle had something he needed to tell him – he had to go change his hair before he was let back in that house. And exhibit b) in High school, one of my cousins’ close friends made the mistake of telling him that he was interested in me. So 5 of my guy cousins took him into the kitchen and had a 25 minute conversation with this guy. Whatever they said, he was scared to even look at me afterward. And they thought this was the funniest thing in the world. Still clown me about it to this day.

And you think I’m bringing a guy with a tongue ring to these people??? Hell nah.

What about you all? What are some dating red flags for you?

How Dating is Making Me Doubt My Instincts… but shhh, don’t tell anyone.

Maaaybe they're on a date, but it's possible they're not.

Hi, I’m D-Magic. (Hi D-Magic.) And I’m here because recent events have caused me to begin doubting my dating instincts.

Say what, say huh?

Yep, you heard right. And I don’t think I’m alone in this either. But let’s talk about me first. You see, I met a guy a little while ago who I totally thought was not only attracted to me, but was putting in major flirting work. That is, until I later found out, I was so off based in this assessment that I made Cam Newton’s doubters look at me like, “damn girl – even we weren’t that wrong.” Now aside from the masterful personal embarrassment I faced when I realized I was wrong (in person, of all things – eek!), more importantly, this incident caused me to begin questioning other guys who I was talking to/planning to go on dates with.

I mean, it’s not that far-fetched to think “well if I was wrong about that one, I could certainly be wrong about this other guy, too” and before you know it – instincts are completely gone.

What kind of fuckery is that?!

The crazy thing is, like I said, I know I’m not alone. Heck, I’ve seen the articles online that ask questions like,  How do you know he likes likes you? Really? Well, while some of those tips were helpful in proving to me how wrong I was with the one guy, some of them just had me even more confused for others. They list 7 ways that a guy shows he just wants to be friends in this article, but what happens if you’re interested in someone and he’s giving you equal indicators on both sides of the liking you spectrum? (true story, by the way…)

I’ll tell you what happens. You either a) assume he’s a friend until otherwise proven differently or b) you analyze every.single.thing.he.does. with your girls. Do you know how annoying both of those options are? I mean, isn’t part of the fun of dating being excited for things like first dates? You don’t want to have to assume that the plans you made with a guy are “just friend” type plans until he does something datey to prove otherwise. What that datey thing might be – who ever knows? But that’s what option A leaves you.

The other options sucks just as much, though. Maybe you don’t know what every.single.thing.he.does. includes. That means emails, texts, phone calls or lack of either. Everything. Oh you guys talked about hanging out in a couple days? Well, now you have to dissect the meaning of “hanging out” with your friends. He emailed or texted you “good morning” one day randomly, but then you didn’t hear from him for a couple days. Time to call the girls again.

O.M.G. It’s exhausting! And it drives a sane girl cuh-razy! Most sane people don’t expect to hear from someone who’s not their partner every day, but there you are trying to figure out if that means he really doesn’t like you like you. All because you read a bunch of articles that said that a guy who really likes a girl will want to talk to her as much as possible. Talking to him Monday and then again on Friday isn’t as much as possible, is it? Is it?

Crazy, I tell ya. You men drive us sane women crazy and worst of all you make us doubt our instincts.*

And that’s just wrong.

Why you do us so wrong?

* Not as crazy as Sandra Bullock in All About Steve, though. No one is that crazy.

The Answer you REALLY don’t want

As women, we tend to be a curious lot. We want to know things about the guys we like. Sometimes we google them. Sometimes we see what we can find on facebook or twitter. And then there are some questions that we have to actually ask the guy if we want the answer.

But trust me when I tell you – there’s one question you should never ever ask, no matter how curious you might be. I learned the hard way, even though it was something I knew before. In fact, I’d made a point to never ask a guy – even if he asked me. I would always say to myself, D-Magic… you don’t really want to know the answer to that question. And so I didn’t ask… until this one guy. Blame it on competition because he got me to tell him my answer through trickery or blame it on my sick sick journalistic mind… but for whatever reason, the words came out before I could stop myself and the next thing I knew I’d asked “How many women have you had sex with?”

Now, I’ve had men ask me this question before (well they asked me about men, but you get the point) and while I’m apparently one of the few women who will honestly answer that question (I’m being sarcastic, but if you listen to guys… you’d think this is true) because I don’t regret anyone I’ve ever had sex with – I usually choose not to answer the question, mostly because I know that he doesn’t really want to know the answer to it.

The one guy I’ve actually told (the one I ended up asking later on) instantly proved my theory correct when he got abnormally quiet once I told him my answer. You see, while my number is nothing that would make Supahead or even Tyra Banks flinch, for that guy – to instantly know that he was no where near being my only… that stung.

And yet, there I was asking him what he’d asked me. You’d think by his earlier reaction, I would have known better. But nope. Oh but I soon found out that if you like the guy, no girl wants to know the answer to that question either. So there I was asking this guy how many sexual partners he’d had – and there he was telling me the answer.

And before he answered, I knew I didn’t want to know. Heck, as the question was coming out of my mouth – I knew I didn’t want to know. But after… after he answered – I knew I was right. And even though his number was pretty damn high by my standards – maybe by guy standards it wasn’t – but for me it kinda was, the thought of him being with anyone but me (even though I KNEW he’d been with plenty of girls aside from me) was more of the issue than anything (well and the fact that it was a LOT of anybodies but me lol). It was the difference between knowing something and KNOWING something. I wished I had kept it at the first one… and he knew that as well.

We quickly turned the course of the conversation, but the damage had been done. Forever – that number will stay in my mind. Forever, I will know just how random sex can be for him. And forever, I will never ask another man that one question again.

Surprise, Suprise…

A writer on the Frisky recently posed the question, what happens if you’re caught with your spanx on during a surprise make-out session, and I immediately started chuckling as it’s certainly a conversation my friends and I have had before. Unfortunately, the article only gave one very brief suggestion of what to do – basically fess up – but my friends and I have certainly come up with funnier ways of getting around it. Wanna know – here it go. Below you’ll see some paraphrased statements about our unfortunate mishaps with experiences such as this (hey, I can’t be expected to remember full statements verbatim, but you’ll get the gist of the stories either way lol). *names are not mentioned so as to protect the guilty parties, and yes that does include me lol*

• One time I had on one of those shapers that covers almost your whole body. Literally it was like wearing a body suit under your clothing, which was fine, except that I tried this contraption before Spanx was as commonly known as it is now, and I found myself in the dorm room of a guy that I’d gone on a few dates with so far – but we were by no means boyfriend and girlfriend yet. Anyway, at some point we went from joking around and talking to kissing and me climbing on top of him – mind you with a skirt on. Which still would have been fine, except that he wanted to make use of the usefulness of the skirt – and I had to sorely explain to him that he need not try to put his hands or penis anywhere up under that skirt — since I was on my cycle. Hey, it beat saying “sooooo I have this thing on that makes me look smaller than I really am and I don’t really want to try and squeeze that off right now. thanks.”
• I’ve had plenty of experiences when I had to figure out how to maneuver myself out of that thing without him noticing. One time I drunkenly told the guy I’d be right back because I was going to the bathroom to make myself more comfortable. I ran to the bathroom, kicked that thing off and stuffed it in my purse. When I came back out with seemingly nothing different on – he was so confused, but he didn’t care.
• The craziest time was with this guy at a party. He caught me so off guard with his roaming hands, I couldn’t even think straight to come up with something good to say. Of course he noticed there was this extra fabric underneath my clothes. The best I could get out was that it was something like panty hose – and for some reason, he bought it. And if he didn’t, it didn’t matter.
• This isn’t really about a shaper snafoo, but one time I got caught up with this extra crazy bra I’d recently purchased from Ashley Stewart. This thing was so ginormous and so ridiculous – it had two clasp mechanisms in the back, no lie – that I nicknamed it Super Bra in my head. Anyway, I was hanging out with a guy friend one day and one thing led to another and the next thing I knew he was trying to pull up my shirt. Because we were so cool – I immediately started telling him about my nickname for the bra as I stalled for some time. By the time he got to the bra and all its contraptions, we’d already taken to singing Suuuuuper Braaaaaa like Superman that he wasn’t as freaked out when he saw it. He did say, “you weren’t lying” though.
• Honestly, if I think it’s even a slight chance that it’s going down, especially coming from the club or a party – I run to the bathroom and take it off before we even leave. By that time, he probably doesn’t notice or care about the difference between how I looked before I went in and when I came out.

What about you girls? Has this ever happened to you or do you just call it a night if you have on your Spanx? And guys – what would you do/have you done on the other side of the situation?

Bugaboos…

It’s not hot that you be callin’ me
Stressin’ me, pagin’ my beeper
You’re just non-stop
And it’s not hot
That you be leavin’ me messages
Every 10 minutes and then you stop by
When I first met you, you were cool
But it was game, you had me fooled
‘Cause 20 minutes after I gave you my number
You already had my mailbox full

~ Destiny’s Child “Bugaboo”

So I told yall before that I had to tell you the story of how I learned the hard way that dating practice may not be all it’s cracked up to be. Well, here you go: the whole sordid story. Some find it funny… others (ie: me) think it’s downright depressing… whichever side you fall on, enjoy!

Your girl has had a very interesting past couple months when it comes to guys. I’ve put myself out there to  one guy, after he initiated a “what are we doing” conversation mind you, and had it blow up in my face. I started liking someone I never thought I would like after 5 years of knowing him… and had that blow up in my face as well… AND I’ve had two guys continue to bug the hell out of me for seemingly no good reason at all lol.

The last two started out simple enough. The first one I met the night before my birthday at this club called Posh in Washington, DC. Actually, it was probably after midnight, so I guess you can say it was on my birthday. Anyway, he was cute and sexy (from what I remember lol), he danced quite well (which is ALWAYS a plus) and he was intriguing. So when he asked me for my phone number, of course I obliged.

I should have known something was up though when he called me the same night. He wanted to see me… of course. I should have known. Really sir? Anyway, even in my drunken stupor, I informed him that he would do better calling me at a more appropriate time.

So what did he do? Proceeded to text me. Now, we all know how I feel about this texting phenomenon that’s going on, so I tried nicely to explain to him that he should pick up the phone and call me… and he still proceeded to KEEP texting me. He would text me things like, “hey ma… what you doing?’ or “hey ma, let’s do something tomorrow” and on and on until he finally got the clue that I wasnt going to have text conversations with him. lol… unfortunately, this lasted for like a month before he was starting to get a clue.

And right around the time, he got the clue, I met this other guy. I was on my way to Philly for Memorial Day Weekend when I met this cute guy. I couldnt understand him very well, because his accent was really thick. But hey, I’m a sucker for a cute guy so…. we tried to carry on a conversation and he eventually asked me for my number when the bus ride was over. And since, I’m a sucker… I did… even though, I’d had to ask the man at least 50 times to repeat himself because I couldnt understand him… and this was in person, not on the phone.

So what did he do? Proceeded to call me every day, text me every morning saying “good morning” and every night saying “good night”, and this was all before we’d known each other a week’s time. In fact, he started the very next day…. ummmmm bug much?

Now, dont get me wrong, the guy’s nice and as I said before, he’s cute, so I tried yall. I did. I told him that I wasnt one of those girls who needed or even wanted to talk to someone 4 and 5 times a day. I told him I was really busy when at work and he shouldnt call during the work day. And nothing… he just kept doing it. He kept calling over and over and over… until one day, I had to call and tell him that I didnt think things would work out between us, I didnt feel any chemistry, and I wasnt sure I wanted to continue to try. I know that sounds harsh, but I promise I said it in the nicest way possible lol, plus I figured that was better than leading him on and having him think I was interested in something further. But it didnt stop anything… and it hasnt.

He still calls. No Seriously yall… still.

So trust me when I say, dating for the practice of dating isnt always the way to go…. do any of yall have any horror stories to share?

Jeepers Creepers (aka MUST have white teeth!)

Okay guys, here’s the thing… I have this cuh-razy fascination with straight white teeth! Like. No. Joke. It’s something about it them. I know what you’re thinking, who doesnt like straight white teeth, right? But see, thats the thing… it’s not an overlooked preference for me… it’s a necessity. And the more I’ve come to think about things I want in men, the more I know that straight white teeth is almost becoming a deal breaker.

Case in point: I met this guy last week. Cute. Nice. Swag was a little less than a trillion, but for a random possible date, he was definitely a strong possibility. So, I did what any single gal would do in my position when he asked for my number. I gave it to him.

And then he smiled. Ohhhhh he smiled. Let me tell you, it was not a pretty sight. I dont think that it was the most hideous thing by far, but I literally cannnot tell you ANYTHING that he said that day because my brain could no longer focus on anything but his teeth. How not straight they were. How the bottom front row kind of jumbled together. How they were (GASP) horror of all horros, not quiiiiiiiiite white???? I actually wondered if I could ask for my number back without getting clocked upside the head (I mean, this is DC yall).

Anyway, as a few days went by, I debated on whether or not something like this should be a deal breaker  for me. I mean, maybe he could be going to the dentist the very next day or something, right? And who knows, maybe in some sick weird karmic world, I was destined to be with a man who would slice me open while eating watermelon (OUCH!)… but then, I remembered awww heck naw! I can demand straight white teeth… I have them myself, so I think at the least, the man should as well!

Plus, c’mon ladies… how many more things can make you melt other than a great smile from a guy with beautiful straight white teeth??? A Black man with that… (of course just my preference, not necessarily yours) is like the sprinkles on top of the icing on the cake. I’m getting all giddy just thinking about it! Dont judge me. I told yall I had it bad.

But I always have. CCB’s thing is swag + athletes, and while I do enjoy a swaggerific man who can command the room when he walks in, for me… part of that command is those 2 lips gathered up in the most precious smile, lighting up the room with his STRAIGHT WHITE TEETH (SWT). lol. I could go down the list of guys I’ve been with (the serious list… anything else might take too long and yall would get bored lol. no. really.)

“Jon Jon”: gorgeous smile. He could make me un-angry (yeah I made it up) with him just by smiling. I was sprung off of that smile from the moment we met…. SWT for him = check

“BJ”:  this was one of his greatest qualities… say what you want about the man, he had a killer smile. SWT for him = check

“Jake”: he’s ALWAYS smiling… well, when not in a serious business mode… and his smile is so captivating! Makes me want to just lick his teeth! lol SWT= check

Montana: gorgeous dark skin guy with bright SWT = check

Down and down the list, you’d see that NEVER have I EVER dated anyone without it. And for some reason, I hadnt caught that until this guy. So I say all that to say, I urge you to take a second to think about some inadvertent deal breakers that you may have (and then post them in the comment section here of course! 🙂 )… you’d be surprised at how easily they start to pile up. Once you’ve done that… stick to them PLEASE!

Or you might end up like me, being called 8 TIMES in one night by the jeepers creepers with crooked yellow teeth out to get YOU! AAGGGGHHHHH!!!!!

Stilletos, Pumps, in the club*…

This funny moment is brought to you by Hennessey… it makes the hoes look good (or so I’ve been told).

Picture the scene: five fly ass chicks (at least that how many people I remember being there lol); it’s our first year as alumni of the prestigious, Mecca of Black Education, so of course, we’ve decided that doing it BIG would be too small…

Pimp C and I had already cleared out all of Pentagon City, courtesy of this shopping trip. And I’d already decided that Friday night at Dream (it’s Love now, but was still Dream then), I was going to be FIERCE! No. Really.

I’d coordinated my outfit so that it was chic and just understated enough so that the greatest accessory could shine: my shoes. They were bronze, silver, and gold 4 inch stilleto sandals. The heel was silver, while the straps that wrapped around your feet crisscrossed in the 3 different colors. It was the perfect shoe for someone who couldnt decide if she wanted to wear silver or gold jewelry and it had the added bonus of sparkling in the club lights!

By the time we arrived, we were already lit, courtesy of our tendency (at the time, ahem) to overdue it when we pregame. But once we got there, it only made sense (to us at least) to keep the party going. After a few Long Island Ice Teas and a couple Hennessey and cokes, you could say I was real nice. lol

Towards the end of the night is where all the fun happened, however. There we were dancing, and all of a sudden, it felt as if the ground beneath had caved!

But it was only one side!

I turned to CCB and said, “Dude, I think something is wrong with the ground!” and as I looked down, with my finger pointed to the floor, my mouth twisted and contorted into the worst gasp EVER! It was only then that I noticed the horror of all horrors had occurred.  My heel broke off 😦

I returned the shoes the next day.

*There’s a STRONG possibility that this story is not 100% accurate!

Rain on my Parade, NOT my shoes!!!*

 

“Oh no! They’re wet! They’re soaking wet!!!!”

 

I walked onto the elevator, slid the hood of my coat off of my head, and looked down at my shoes. My once yellow mellow Diego Di Lucca “Ladonna” flats were now bluish-green from the rain and the grass I had to walk through to get to my apartment.

 

This was just the perfect ending to one of those really, really long days. Walking up and down the office, I was already worried that I was going to look down and see that the little miniature kitty heel on the shoe had worn all the way down. But somehow, someway, my shoes and I had made it through the day.

 

We’d faxed and filed papers, made important phone calls, sent out emails, attended meetings, and come outside to a brisk night sky that all of a sudden turned to a terror. Without any warning, the sky seemed to open up and all the rain ever created came pouring down onto my shoes and me.

 

When I got in the door, I rushed to the kitchen, grabbed oodles of paper towels and attempted to tap dry the babies, until my roommate walked in with a roaring laughter at the sight of a crazy woman who was soaking wet and only worrying about her shoes.

 

“Get up silly girl,” she said. “The shoes will dry on their own and look yellow in the morning.” Ahh yes, that’s true, I thought… in the bright morning sun, my shoes would coordinate with that flashing bulb in the sky and all would be well… unless that is, they looked more like the rainbow that comes after the rain. Eek!!! I went right back to towel drying until I was satisfied with the outcome.

 

* There’s a STRONG possibility that this story is not 100% accurate!