He messaged me, mind you.
Then I said wsup, as I do…
He had no plan for my response-
So I said wanna drink?
He said sure but he was baking brownies.
I said cool, have a good night. Did he just diss me for pastries?
Later, he said my friend wants to hang, wanna hang?
I’m like no, I wanna chill, enjoy.
He goes ‘bull shitter’.
I go, I never offered anything other than a drink. You messaged me, you asked me for attention then you had no idea what to do with it when you got it so I asked if you were drinking. You said you were busy, baking, too busy… evidently. And then when your guy friend calls, mid date making, all of a sudden you feel so social that he is a priority and then out of guilt you want to include me? I’m good, bruh. I’m not going out with 2 strange cats.
He texts me the entire time that he is out with his male friend, imbibing.
He wants to see me though, just so I know, with something to prove clearly and
I’m like cool but after 10:30 I’m good, nothing is happening then but sex.
He asks if my nails and toes are done and pretty.
I’m like what kind of dumb wack shit is that?
Are you serious? I text back.
Dudes don’t care about that, son. Not dudes that wanna fuck anyway.
But now he just wants to smoke with me, he has the best herb, he sends me a photo of him smoking at home, not out with his homeboy and after they are done drinking he wants to see me. Maybe.
I’m like, is that even safe?
He’s dropping his friend off so he wants to fall through, he says if I’m not still being facetious. He goes, you didn’t officially invite me like he is Dracula.
I’m high, I’m like whatever but aint nobody fucking nobody in my head.
My mind was made long before… at the brownies. At the date with some dude instead of me.
He comes over though, 3 inches shorter than he said that he was.
Its cartoonish, us together.
He comes in, slithering in a very effeminate way, prancing around like we’re home girls from way back. He’s got no weed and only 2 beers, bottles, in his pockets like some weirdo.
Must have snuck them out from the bar with his boy- like 24 ounces was all it usually takes. Ugh.
Ten seconds in were talking about the cosmos and he brings up Jesus and I’m blowing this cat’s mind.
Jamie Foxx comes on TV and he says okay, hey a gay boy! to segue.
I feel like Adrian Monk.
You got a problem with gay people, kid? Usually people who can’t be who they are have that problem I think and say– ’cause fuck this dude.
He didn’t deny it. He did however mention liking pulling hair.
He just flounced around a bit, irritated at my insinuation.
I had already google searched that he was a Sagittarius, based on the birth date that he had shared earlier while out with his ro-dawg.
I’m a Virgo, sooooooo its not a match.
He’s that dude that won’t shave that balding ring of hair which is so stupid to me.
We wasn’t finna smoke and drink my shit.
I didn’t know that until I met him. Friends I thought. Girlfriends.
Pfft, fuck that. He looked so fragile as I spoke.
Now we’re arguing about some god’s existence. He’s denying science. He says his gay issue is a man issue. I’m like, a gay man issue. He is haughty about that. I confuse him. So bothersome.
I’m like, I hate the Midwest.
He thinks I’m satanic.
I’m like if you believed in a god, for real, even a little bit, you wouldn’t be doing half of the horrible shit that you probably do.
He goes, so you don’t believe in the devil either?
I’m like, back half of the same coin.
Mind you earlier, he wanted to touch my hair and then claimed it was because he was a barber. ( With a a balding ring? Word? Okay…)
Mind you earlier, he said he wanted to see me eat myself, since I said I eat myself all of the time, because somehow we were talking (still) about people of the same sex tasting people of the same sex, but since I was drunk and said ‘eat’ instead of ‘taste’, he challenged me to do the impossible just so he could see it because semantics are important in real life vernacular when you pretend that they are for leverage.
I’m so over it.
At the same time that I had wished that I had never met this dude,
homie puts on his fire engine red bomber coat and matching hat and matching gloves and leaves without saying goodbye as I’m ranting about how old the earth is.
But he left the 2 beer bottles that he brought over.
So its all good.
He messaged me, mind you.
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