One down....

I was supposed to meet Pretty Ricky for drinks and playoff games on the big screen last Friday night. We talked about it Wednesday, we talked about it Thursday, we even talked about it Friday morning. The time was set for 8 p.m., but he was to call me back with a location that was central to both of us. Sounded good to me.

Imagine my confusion and utter pisstivity when I found myself at home. At 8, then 8:15, then 8:41...on my couch...drinking sangria.... and watching the game on my 27" box TV. What tha fuh?

He called and texted me before 9, but I didn't pick up. We never spoke. And we never will.

The men all pause

KLYMAXX MEN ALL PAUSE -

I must have a MALE VACANCY sign attached to my head. Everywhere I go these days, I am getting accosted, propositioned, sidetracked and generally adored by the male population.

Not that I’m complaining.  

I will admit that I've maybe...possibly...probably... been disinterested, lazy, nonchalant and too content with my own company for far too long. And, I guess the great matchmaker up above decided it was time to get in my business. Because men are falling outta the sky and landing right in my lap.

Introducing:

The Haute Haitian
Met him on the patio at El Azteca. Tall, slim, dark and dangerous. He’s a New York-based accountant who travels here often for business. His biggest drawback is that he’s a huge fan of textversations. Can we get him to actually pick up the phone and speak into it, rather than letting his thumbs do the talking? Stay tuned.

Pretty Ricky
This one is a blast from the past. We spent a lot of time together in 2006-07. A LOT of time. But then we went to the mountains for a couples weekend, and I realized he would much rather play basketball and watch TV with his little friends than spend QT with me. Fast forward to now and those same boys all have real women in their grown-up/big boy lives. But not him. He calls daily. And swears he never stopped thinking about me and wants another chance. We’ll discuss it over dinner this weekend. (And it’s going to be a very expensive dinner.)

Mr. Self-Involved
He is what happens when you mix way too many cocktails with not enough food at a Halloween party. Plus, he smelled good and was kinda cute. Only problem was, he also thought that he was kinda cute and spent more time looking at himself than looking at me. Met him in October, by February he was a ghost. That was a year ago and now he wants to go out for drinks and make it all up to me. Mirror, Mirror on the wall… he don’t even stand a chance at all.

My Bad Habit
He’s so sweet. And he loves me. But he just can’t get it together (or keep a job).

Big Truck Driver
One day, I was outside my office building waiting on CP to bring me some Girl Scout cookies. He pulls up in this big ole shiny truck, rolls down the window and says, “You wasn’t waiting on me too long, was ya?” That was too clever. I had to give him my number. But I suspect he’s a workaholic, because he’s always at work whenever he calls me. He has asked to see me several times, but again, it’s when he’s at work, so I’d have to stop by on his break.

Wait just a d@mn minute…could he be married?

B.H.M. a/k/a Big Handsome Holy Man
He smelled good. He looked good. And he had been Transformed to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I’m sure by now he’s well on his way to wedded bliss with some girl he met about 20 minutes go.

So, that’s the shortlist. If nothing else, it oughta be an interesting summer.

The Date End

Last Sunday, I found myself without much on the agenda. I eventually ended up at the Dogwood Fest, and then got a call from B.H.M.

BHM: Hey.
Me: Hey.
BHM: What are you up to?
Me: Leaving the park, thinking about getting some food.
BHM: Oh, I was just about to go eat, too.
Me: Okay.

[Insert daytime minutes-wasting silence here.]

Me: Okay, well, enjoy. I guess I better go now.
BHM: Oh, well what are you going to eat?
Me: Not sure yet.
BHM: Yeah, me either.
Me: Do you wanna meet me? Is that what you’re trying to say?
BHM: Do you want me to meet you?
Me: Ummm, you ‘bout to make me---
BHM: Okay, I’m just playing.
Me: Oh, I was about to say....
Me: Where do you want to meet…
BHM: Umm, I’m not sure.

Notice the amazing phone skills? We eventually agree on a mall parking lot as a central meeting point. I get there and he’s just standing around, looking quite dapper for a Sunday afternoon (i.e., he’s dressed like a preacher—blazer, silk shirt, pleated slacks, silk stockings and square-toed shoes). Now, it’s late afternoon and church has been over long enough for me to take a nap, change clothes and go walk around the park for a few hours. Plus, he observes the Sabbath on Saturday, so I have no explanation for the haute coutoure.

He comes over to the car and asks if I wanna go to a pizza place that was back in the area that I just drove from. I tell him no and suggest a pizza place right across the street that he can follow to me. He says, “Well, I don’t drive.”

[He doesn't what?]

“Well, how’d you get here,” I ask.

“The bus.”

[Rolling my eyes and sighing real loud.] “Just, get in the car.”

Over dinner (which he tried to order without asking what I liked), he picks up right where he left off, telling me about his religion and how he would like me to visit his church so that we can see if we “fit.” Telling me he’s searching for a wife this year. Telling me he doesn’t just date for the sake of dating. Telling me if I think the path of Holiness is something that I can follow, then we can be married in 3 to 6 months.

Know what I told him?

“Check, PLEASE.”

B.H.M., Part 2: The call

So, he called. And as soon as I recognized his voice, I screamed, “Yew no pay,” and hung up the phone.

Okay, I didn’t really do that, but I should have. That way I could have saved myself from what happened next.

BHM: Hey Shemika, it’s D---.
Me: Oh hey, your ears must have been burning. I have been talking about you.
BHM: I hope that’s a good thing.
Me: Umm, no, not really. I told everybody how you only paid half that check.
BHM: Half?
Me: Half. [And then I explained how we almost got beat down by the Tiny Asian Lady].
BHM: My bad, I told the lady I wanted to pay for your food. I didn’t know.
Me: Hmmm….

[We spent the next few minutes, playing getting to know you, i.e., where you from, what do you do, etc.] And, then…

BHM: So, do you go to church?
Me: Yeah. How about you?
BHM: Yeah, I go to Way of God of Light and Truth and Discipleship Holiness Church of the Almighty God (or something like that).
Me: Oh O-kay. Well, I’m a Methodist.

[For the next 45 minutes, he proceeded to testify and evangelize to me in the hopes of saving my immortal soul. Which is fine, don’t get me wrong. I’ll take all the help I can get, but not on my daytime minutes. So, that’s when I interrupted and asked...]

Me: How old are you, anyway?
BHM: 25
Me: Oh O-kay. Well, I’m…..NOT 25.
BHM: It doesn’t matter when two people are spiritually connected and focused on God’s plan for eternal li--
Me: [INTERRUPTING] Okay, well, look it’s getting late and it’s been nice talking to you. Gotta go.

Click.

And that should have been the end of it. But…we all know I’ll do anything for a laugh (and a free meal), which is why I agreed to meet him for dinner when he called back a few days later.….

Yew no pay (or B.H.M., Part I)

During Thursday’s Mental Health Day Off From Work, me and my sorta-stepmother (don’t ask) stopped over in Tucker for lunch at the Cheap Chinese Buffet.

I noticed Big Handsome Man watching me when I went to fill my plate, so I tried to look as alluring as possible while carrying a mound of greasy lo mein and fried chicken wings on a chipped plate.

It worked.

Big Handsome Man came over on his way out to introduce himself and present me with his business card. Only problem was, for all his bold intentions he forgot to ask my name.

So I (of course) pointed out that fact and made him squirm for about 45 seconds while I pretended to be insulted. I eventually told him my name, but gave him back his business card saying he could call me if he wanted to talk. (‘Cuz that’s just how I roll.)

B.H.M. says no problem, and asks for my number. I say no problem and write it down on our unpaid ticket, which I then hand to him. He laughs and takes our check to the front.

He pays, waves at us, does a lame call me gesture and walks out.

By now, I’m feeling good. We just ate the $5.50 lunch buffet for FREE, baby!

We finish eating and stroll on out the door, laughing at B.H.M. About 2.1 feet from the front door, Tiny Asian Lady jumps in front of us in a hai-karate pose, screaming, “Yew no pay. Yew have to pay.”

Excuse me?

I correct her, saying, no the gentleman in the blue shirt paid our check. She shakes her head, still blocking the door, saying, “He only pay one. Yew (points at sorta-stepmother) still haf to pay for yew food.”

And just like that, my bubble was burst.

What kinda man only pays half of an $11 check?! I know we’re in a recession people, but if you’re handing out business cards, surely you have enough business to cover the whole check.

So, I ask, what do I do when he calls?

Longing

For:

An office window that opens

Coconut cake with lemon drizzle from Wahoo! Decatur

The answer to: “Why?”

An all-expenses paid weekend at the hotel I’m writing about

An empty I-20 for my ride home

Workout clothes so that I could walk in Piedmont Park, rather than sit on I-20

A new, unscratched Lauryn Hill Unplugged CD

The old Mary J Blige (the songs, not the drama)

Him

Well, if you ARE reading this...how 'bout a FREE snack?

Is this thing on?

I’m stressing because I have nothing to write about today, and I’m wondering if it’s even worth the effort to keep going.

It’s helping me keep writing, but is anybody even reading this?

Let me know.

Resurrected and ready to go

Easter Weekend is hands-down my favorite holiday weekend. It’s the time spent with family and friends, tulips on sale at Kroger, permission to wear white, chewy gooey candy and—best of all—the story of the ultimate sacrifice made for me.

“And he hung his head and died…” That part gets me EVERY time. (Even while I write this.)

This past weekend was as nice as any I've ever had. Friday night, I had a rain-soaked burger dinner with one of my nearest and dearest and her mini-me, then stayed up late reading Oprah and eating sunflower seeds.

Saturday morning, I resurrected my kitchen doors (entry, pantry and laundry) with a fresh coat of Behr Premium Paint in White Snow. They’ve been looking dingy and grungy for months and my lovely Fabuloso just wasn’t getting the job done anymore.

I patted myself on the back with a big cup of Mickey D’s $1 sweet tea, some Lifetime TV and a long nap. Saturday night, I headed out to get a late dinner and ended up at AMC watching The Fast and the Furious 4 (welcome back, Vin Diesel!).

Sunday, I missed the Sunrise Service (Vin kept me up late), but I caught the 11 a.m. edition. I’m glad I did. The babies did an Easter play that had me cracking up in church. Big ole, deep belly guffaws. It was funny just because it wasn’t supposed to be.

Sunday afternoon, I resurrected my family ties and friendships ones with a big, ridiculous Easter dinner in Conyers. I ate way too much pound cake, then beat everybody at Phase 10 and headed home around 7 to get ready for the week.

With weekends like that one, those pesky little whirlwinds just don’t matter much at all.

10 things about me you probably never cared to know

1. I secretly wish I had been named Diane, rather than Shemika.
2. My family never calls me Shemika; they call me “Shug” (short for sugar) or “Sistah.”
3. When I was 6 or 7, my brothers once invited me to play Hide and Seek and then never came to find me. I hid for hours (okay, maybe 20 minutes)!
4. My grandparents’ real names are Avery Lee and Ivory Lee. That was a match made in heaven!
5. I have a mole on the inside of my right wrist. And one on the bottom of my foot.
6. I like to eat ranch dressing on sweet potato fries.
7. I talk to myself all the time.
8. I can’t pronounce the word “asked.”
9. My eyelashes have a painful tendency to grow in upside down, so I pull them out and have bald patches. (GB hates this habit).
10. I would love to own one of those stripper poles.

Mimi the Bee

I’ve had a few rough days at work. In the ad business, sometimes the job you do ain’t necessarily the job you signed up, got hired and get paid for. That’s just how it goes.

Around here, I’m known for being game to do the jobs that other people run from. But today, I was feeling extra bitter about it – wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into and plotting how was I going to get out.

Ten minutes into my pity party, I noticed a bumblebee outside my office window. Not really unusual to see a bee, given that it’s springtime, but my office is on the ninth floor of a tall building. Pretty high up for a bumblebee, I’m thinking.

That bee was just whirling around in chaotic circles and dipping high and low like crazy. It took me a minute to realize that the bee wasn’t flying under its own steam; it was caught up in a whirlwind that probably just came by and swept it along.

I felt sorry for the bee. It was flapping its wings as fast as it could, trying to get back on its original path, until it finally got tired and just let the wind take control.

Eventually, the wind did let go. I bet that old bee was glad to get back to its regularly scheduled business, whatever that may be. I pointed it out to my co-worker, who said, “Well, if it hadn’t been for the wind, that bee never woulda known it could fly up this high.”

And just like that, it all made sense. I’m Mimi the Bee and this is my whirlwind.