This is dedicated to those ladies dedicated to givin out the number…then frontin
Let me get my Picasso on, and paint the picture…A nigga is out clubbin, drunk so i’m probably talkin to every female in the building, short, Teddy Ruxpin built, 11 toes, at this point it doesn’t matter, I like to blame it on the a-a-a-alcohol (c) Foxx, when I find out the woman I talked to the night before looks like Wesley Snipes in Tu Wong Foo. Nevertheless, your lasting impression for the night was with this cute babe, short, petite, b-cups…just like you like. Ya’ll converse for a good fifteen minutes, vibe is strong, and then, your song comes on…’Big Booty Hoes’, by Uncle Luke. You can’t help but to lead this beautiful young lady to the dance floor and twerk it out. She realizes that you’re light skinned (this by no means is indicative of anything thats happened to your’s truly, lol), and may have some caucasian like tendencies, so she gives you the two step, as she’s fully aware that you came to the States from Rhthymless Nation. Song goes off, and ya’ll continue the convo, and end up exchanging math, you jokingly tell her that you have some extra draws in the car, so if she’s tryna take you back to the crib, you’re fully prepared to wash up in her sink…she gives you the uneasy look like ‘Nigga, what?’ And you respond, ‘Girl I was just playin…unless you gon do it’ (c) Kanye.
Math is exchanged, and a nigga is grinnin ear to ear…the homies are like ‘Damn, who was shawty, look like she was feelin you’. At this point the confidence (i’m unswaggin myself) is on 110, and you reply ‘Yeah, you know, I just got G, what can I say?’. Head back to the crib with visions of you and ole girl on the brain, and you can’t help but to think to yourself, damn, she was like the wifey type, and we really vibed…at the club, so imma make it do what it do. You wait the obligatory two days to hit her up so that you don’t appear thirsty…phone rings. Its at this point you’re rehearsing what you’ll say to her when she answers, should you hit her with the, ‘Yeah, this is Keez, I had met you at the club the other day, and we vibed…I mean,you twerked me so hard on that Luke song, and I just had to follow up with you to see if we can take it to the next level, so what you doin right now, I got the condoms and the KY Jelly’…but that never happens, two rings and you get the voicemail. So you leave her the voicemail, just lettin her know who it is, and asking her to give you a call back whenever she’s free. Two damn days go by, and everytime the phone rings, you anticipate her on the call back…instead its the baby mama complaining about them goin up on the daycare, and she need a ride to grocery store. At this point, you say fuck it, and try to call ole girl again. Again, straight to voicemail after two rings, so you hit her with the ‘Hey, I don’t know if you got my last voicemail, but I was just hittin you up to see how you were and if you wanted to get up’. And you vow to delete this broad’s phone number if she doesn’t hit you back.
At this point one of two things happens, either you delete the number, and ole girl calls you like two weeks later (after she found out her main was cheatin and she needed a simp ass nigga to come save the day, enter YOU, lol). Thinkin this is a bill collector (because you don’t recognize the number) you immediately give her the foreigner voice when she says hello. When you realize its some potential new booty on the phone, you switch it up, and ask, ‘Who is this?’. And every woman that i’ve ever dealt with’s favorite line then follows…’Thats messed up, you ain’t save my number’. Needing a quick save, you hit her with the, I just got a new phone, and all my numbers ain’t transfer over. Ya’ll converse, and set something up, the beginning of a beautiful one night stand….
OR the more realistic scenario, lol. Ole girl never, ever, ever calls you back at all. But a month later, you’re out with the homies, and you see this broad. She immediately sees and notices you, and comes up to you with that fake ass hug, talkin about some ‘Hey, stranger, what you been up to?’ In the back of your mind, you want to slap the hell outta this broad for asking such a dumb question…but you play it cool, ‘I been working, goin to church, fightin these traffic tickets, and duckin these white folks, how you?’ She gives yout the obligatory bullshit that females are accustomed to, tells you how busy she’s been, how her dog just died, and how her granny came in town, so she just hasn’t had time for anything else. Of course, you’re visibly upset, so she can see the ‘Bitch Please’ look…its written all over your face, you don’t have to say a word, lol. She then massages your ego and says that we really need to hang out so that we can get to know each other better, and the googly eyed nigga that was hiding inside all this time reappears. You immediately begin to ask her where she’s tryna hang out, blah, blah, blah, and ya’ll set somethin up. Flash forward to the date, and she still doesn’t answer your call…THE END!
Unfortunately, thats been the story of Keez and alot of other niggas when it comes to dealing with these flakey ass females, and its gotta stop, and damnit, i’m making a stand, lol. Ladies, what the fuck? If you aren’t feelin a nigga, how about tellin him that from jump, and saving face by letting him know that off top, instead of insinuating that ya’ll got some kinda future? I’ve been rejected more times than i’ve been accepted, so one more rejection from a female won’t hurt. Its easy to justify gettin rejected in the club, especially if you’ve been drinkin, but what is the real purpose of giving out your number if you don’t plan on accepting the call? I don’t call Domino’s and place an order for some pizza without the intention to pick that shit up. I’m not a lawyer, but I gotta believe that this is a violation of a verbal agreement of some sort. Meaning, if you give me your number, you’re agreeing to accept my calls, and potentially agreeing to give up the draws, if I spend more than $50 on a meal, I ain’t sayin, i’m just sayin.
Aight, so I might be out in left field…just a lil bit, but this is real talk. To all the ladies who have done this to me in the past, it may not come today, it may not come tomorrow, but one day you’ll find that the joke is on you (c) my sixth grade math teacher, lol. Today, your still fine, titties still perky, skin still wrinkle free, still young and petite, but one day, you won’t be ‘that bitch’ in the club anymore, one day you’re gonna get older, be single as hell and regret not responding to a nigga’s calls, you gon be 45 at church, praying to Jesus to send you a man, and i’m gon be in that back pew laughin like Danny Glover and his daddy in Color Purple, as I sit next to my white wife, and our son, lil Barack, lol. So go on, keep playin us misfits, the non tall, dark and handsome niggas…I am somebody (c) Jesse Jackson, lol.
Ladies, do you care to explain? Fellas, am I the only one? Lol…And if ya’ll niggas say I am, ya’ll all lyin, and yo baby mama gave you HPV, lol.