Monday, October 13, 2008

True Story 13: There is a reason I stopped dating you

So my computer is down right, and I have been going to the library to use there Internet for the past couple of weeks.

While on my driving in the parking lot I notice a booty star exiting the building, I slow down to get a long look at her from behind before parking the ride and making my way in.

Before I get a few feet from my truck I hear my name, I look over to see that it is booty star.

I immediately start running through my memory bank trying to out a name to a very pretty face with a slightly crooked smile.

We stare at each other, her waiting for me to acknowledge her and me trying to remember who she is.

Than like a bomb it goes off, Ms. Booty Star, that's what we will call her for this blog but also because I couldn't remember her name when I was talking to her, still not sure what her name is.

You see Ms. S and I worked together way back and wind up hooking up.

She was from my home town Brooklyn, New york, her people are Jamaican, mine Haitian we clicked pretty quick.

But there was signs of trouble back than that I didn't pick up on.

At the time she was married before we started talking, so I never gave her much thought other than the occasional friendly conversation.

However I noticed one day that she hadn't been to work in a couple of weeks, in fact the last time I saw her she had changed clothes in the bathroom to go hang out some where.

Now later that day her husband called work looking for her thinking that she was doing overtime, the receptionist said no she left on time, (see where this is going?).

The word from the grapevine was that her husband found out that she was stepping out and he beat that butt senseless.

The bruises were apparently bad enough for not to come into work.

So in a few months she gets a divorce and is now single and a few months later we start dating.

During the dating I notice Ms. Booty Star has an abrasive personality, hell the woman was an asshole (note I don't like to generalize but let the record show that this the 3rd Jamaican I have dated that turned out to be combative, I'm just saying).

She knew it all insisted to tell you that and could find an argument in anything.

This is the same woman I spoke about earlier who pissed me so bad one day that i got out of her car in the middle of traffic and took the bus home, the only way I could make sure that I didn't get locked up for impersonating OJ Simpson and Ike Turner put together.

It was pretty much over when I stopped retuning her calls.

But here she is looking like a steak and I am starving.

My big head is telling me to chill there is a reason you stopped dating her, but my other head at this point is wide awake and has commandeered all reasoning.

My mind is trying to tell me of the headaches this woman caused by my other head is throwing up images of her pierced clitoris, her flexible legs, and down for what ever, where ever attitude.

I am in full mack mode with the wrong woman.

We do the small chit chat, exchange numbers and go our separate ways, than and only than when she is out of site that I come to my senses.

I swear I wont call her and move on.

Enter my homeboy from stage left, he also worked at the old job together with us so he knew her when I told him I bumped into her.

And like all typical country thugs who doesn't know the meaning of bad coochie he is egging me on to start something with her.

Partly because he wanted to get at Ms. Booty Star and partly because he is in a committed relationship and like all wolves turned house dogs he wants to have company.

I'm not biting though, because first I do not like reliving history, nothing good comes out of messing with an ex.

Second I got other issues that could only get worst if I add a woman to the equation.

Nope I don't need it.

But of course later on that night after having a couple of drinks I call Ms. Booty Star, to "talk".

And the conversation is going good, until we got on the road of no return.

She starts in on how she wants to get a part time job this led to the economy which led to the election and naturally Ms. Booty Star who can find something wrong with the decor of heaven has a problem with Obama who she feel is being worshiped as a Messiah.

Now I know right off the bat that we have gotten off the beaten path and like a the only black person with sense in a slasher movie I am trying to get us out of this conversation alive, but it's too late the creepy music is playing and she wont stop talking.

So we get to arguing, about Obama, and how George W. Bush is always blamed by black people for things he did not do, about McCain and how he is unfairly treated (her words), and than it got on the economy.

She starts to tell me the "Jews" are behind all this since they run all the banks and Wall Street, right there I had enough and through the grace of the Original Black Jew I was able to get the conversation off of that and on to us.

After settling things down I get off the phone with a promise to call her the next day.

My head is in a vice at this point with me saying nope not again.

But here goes my other head talking about that booty, and I understand that this will not be the last I see of her.

I am screwed.