Most of this year I have been telling myself that I'm through with dudes for this year. The first utterance of "I'm done" came in March when a guy got out of pocket yet again, causing my emotions to erupt in a whirlwind of confusion. I ended up putting him in the back of my mind and put another at the forefront of my thoughts, telling myself that the former couldn't be the example of the rule. And kept on treading.
When things got complicated recently, I decided to step back completely and not warrant my time or attention to anyone for a while…….a gooood while is what I was aiming for. Working on a better me was the goal for '08. And it still is.
But the last month has been outright ridiculous on behalf of my menses. Ri-effin-diculous.
Last Saturday, a few of my homegirls and I decided we'd go to a bar. We didn't want to do anything that would take up too much of our money as all four of us were broke as hell but we still wanted to have fun and get out of the house. At the last minute, one of the girls decided to change plans.
"Let's go to Exposure", she said.
We all agreed to it. After all, it IS a hot restaurant and the drinks are fabulous. Lovely atmosphere. We figure, why not go to a swanky restaurant instead of "just the bar", right?
Of this circle of girls, I am the only one that has been to this restaurant so I was hit with the unmistakable questioning of "is it expensive? Is there a cover" and whatnot. It's a restaurant. There's no cover. Everything is reasonably priced and valet is only ten bucks.*
We head on to the restaurant and get up to the front.
"Twenty dollars" says a short woman, blocking our entrance.
My girls look at me with a look that says "what the hell happened to FREE ADMISSION?!"
"Um……this is a restaurant. Why is it suddenly twenty dollars to get into this place? I've been here three times and never had to pay to get in," I retorted at the short woman who had an adamant look on her face. Fact is, I was adamant as well and my girls and I were not paying to get in. I let her know that as well and she went and got another guy that worked there.
Once my girls and I talked to the man, he said we could just pay ten dollars to get inside and that the restaurant had went from Exposure Tapas Restaurant to Exposure Supper Club. I had so many questions but decided to halt them. ("What the hell is a 'supper club'" was one and "I was pretty sure that I said that we weren't paying" was another)
We still didn't end up paying for the guy talked to the short woman that collected monies and said that we "were with him" and we headed inside.
I, for one, still had an attitude. Most clubs don't serve food and I was starved. I hadn't planned on clubbing in the least but once I found out that food was served, my attitude adjusted a bit. It wasn't until I was sent on a wild goose chase to find out HOW I could order that my attitude erupted again. After about twenty minutes of irritability, I was finally able to order, grab a Strawberry Mojito and remotely enjoy myself.
Then he saw me.
As I was devouring a personal pan turkey sausage pizza and about half of my mojito was gone, this guy walks up to me and we engage in a short conversation. He tells me where he lives, that he works at the club on the weekends, and that he would like to take me out. He also gives me two tickets to come back for an event that's going on tonight. I accept them but in the back of my mind, I doubt I'm going to go. He's cool enough so I give him my phone number and we dance after I eat.
(The mojito I had was better. Trust.)
I had a pretty tall, highly alcohol-filled mojito. And I was in the first stages of my drunken night.
I couldn't dance too well and told him I needed to sit down. After much prompting, he finally took me to sit and got me some water. After a few minutes, I was fine. He got me a free shot of Patron, I talked to my girls a bit (and had a few swigs of their drinks, lol), and promptly headed back to the dance floor.
I flip flop between dancing with dude and dancing over where my girls were all together. When I return back to them again, however, one of my girls whispers in my ear amidst the blaring music (exchanges of Ludacris' Back for the First Time album and Snoop and….Rick James….)
"That nigga's married, girl!"
"MARRIED?! YOU LYIN'!" I said to her, not in an accusing tone at all but rather in a this shyt is hilarious tone. I shook my head and laughed until my side hurt. I was still inebriated, yes. But there was a method to my madness.
I kept my distance from dude, opting to not waste my breath on him and figured that my supreme ignoring techniques would savage the cool that enveloped between us.
He's a loser.
He came back to dance and this time I was hella standoffish. I wouldn't look at him. Claimed to be too tired to dance with him. When he wasn't near me at all, he'd text me and I wasn't texting back. Boo him. He sucks!
I'm a queen at ignoring folks. Since I don't really do confrontation at all, I'll just as soon pretend you don't exist because in my mind………you don't. And he didn't. So I could no longer see him. At all.
Aside from dancing and drinking, I spent the entire night texting Randy and Ronnie on some "I can't believe this shyt" hype from the restaurant-turned-club fiasco, to the wild goose chase I had with ordering my food and getting a table (which was positioned uncomfortably near the bathroom, to the married dude. At one point, I saw him coming towards me with a smile and I left the restaurant and called Randy. I needed some fresh air immediately. And a good excuse to leave for a few minutes. When my phone lit up from his text, I acted like my phone was ringing, took it to my ear, and headed out the club for a few minutes.
When we finally leave the club and head to the car, one of my girls gets stopped by him. When she comes back, she tells me that he wasn't tryin to talk to her but that he had also given her some tickets to come back and was rather talking to her and inquiring about what was up with me, who he calls his "Future Wife". LMAO
She tells him that I'm suddenly being standoffish because I just found out that he's married. His response: "Ok, I admit to being married, but that doesn't mean that I'm in a relationship".
Silence from everyone in the car. Complete and utter silence. It's just still as hell
Then……reaction from me………"I mean…..*laughs wryly* was he serious? You sure he didn't say 'I admit to being married, but that doesn't mean that I'm looking for a relationship'?"
"No. He acted as if there was a difference between being married and being in a relationship."
We all laughed at his indescribable wackness. I mean it was unreal.
Then my other girl, Kristin goes, "I still don't understand why you laughed so damn hard, Mal when you first found out he was married. That shyt aint funny"
"I wasn't laughing at this situation, but the entire group of situations I've been in recently. Two dudes that have wanted to take me out for months were finally given opportunity and then don't show. Then the next day they'd call wanting to make it up to me but now I'm "suddenly busy" and truly don't wanna be bothered. This right here…was the "last effin straw" (© Teef, lol). I just had to laugh a little because now I "sees the light".
(See the light? I do too...Mal's done. The end.)
We laugh some more about the whole night, talk about how two of my girls "played the game" and when a couple guys gave them money for drinks, they'd pocket it and when another guy came, they'd ask for a drink and say they were short on cash.
I may try that trick out one day. LOL
But seriously. I'm beginning to get a little worried. What's wrong with most of these men? I try so hard not to group all men in one unfortunate category because I feel like that makes me sound bitter and I'm not bitter at all and I have several male friends that truly do not deserve to be in that category, for they are good men. But I am concerned. What's really good, fellas? Since I know that no man is gonna up and admit his wackness (if he is, in fact wack), can anyone explain to me why these dudes are so wack? Seriously. I want some answers.
Help a sista out, y'all.. I'm all out of excuses at this point…..
*Valet parking in Chicago is typically around $20 on a Saturday night at a club. This $10 wasnt bad at all.