The Flatleaver

He said everyone always thought he was a famous rapper....and you actually tell people that?

I was walking Louis one day and he pulled around the corner. Now, I had no business what-so-ever because I had just moved back to Brooklyn after my 4 month hiatus in Nashville (Don't ask, I'll tell you later) and was staying with my homegirl for a minute. I feel like if you're going to date, you should be at least datable. Like, have all your "ducks in a row" as my mother would say. But, I said forget it. I need to get out there.

Maybe it was the Range, maybe it was that Brooklyn swag. I don't know. Maybe I was nuts. He called me up and decided that we should hang out. His "homeboys" throw a party on Wednesdays at this spot on 14th street and we should go. I say okay cool. On the way there he has to stop at the car wash (only in NY do they go to the car wash at 12 am), then he has to ride past the house he just closed on but had to let me know--he's "renting" it out because he just got a place in Jersey. So?

Now I guess he mistook me for a lame who doesn't get out much...but I don't know why he thought we would go there and I would not know anyone. We get in and he does his rounds, you know speak to this person, say hi to that one. Oh and I do to. "Hey boo"! "Hey girl"! You know me. He has that stupified look like...."How she know them." Easy killa.

So we get into the booth and he's cordial. Pours me a glass of champagne, and I assume he thought that would keep me company because he went around the room continuing to speak, flirt and be seen. *Rolls eyes* Now I'm chilling minding my business talking to the few people I know, doing the shoulder dance and he comes and goes, well let's be out. Fine by me.

Okay, so we get into this discussion and he goes, "Well I ont feel like going back to BK, we just gone go to my Jersey crib since we right here and I'll take you back tomorrow." Ummmmm....."Scuse me? No...you're going to take me where you picked me up from." This was all in the car and next thing I know we're on 9th Ave going south. I'm like cool, he's gonna take Canal to the bridge.

This mikifiki turns into the tunnel lane. I BS you not. I look over like what the hell are you doing?? He looks and says, "Chill out shorty my crib is right there, you don't got no curfew, I'll take you to BK tomorrow." I'm like "What the eff is wrong with right now"?! We're in the tunnel. Now....once again fear crept in and I was like I'm about to be dumped in Jersey somewhere and someone is going to have to tell this story to my mommy....why me?

So we get to his crib and go into the parking garage. He's going on and on about how he's got a great view from his apartment. He just hired an interior decorator....blah blah blah. I'm like "yeah...my homegirl OWNS a condo in that building right over there." Sukka.

So we get upstairs....the place is...nice. Nothing is furnished except for the bedroom and I'm like I don't give a hell, when you taking me to BK. He goes..."I dunno, once we get up or whatever." I'm like "Hells no. ASAP in the am." He replies, "Well if you trying to go that early you might as well take the shuttle to the ferry." You HAVE got to BE kidding ME.

I finally resolve like fine I will wait untill the morning. Now, you can always tell when somebody ain't never had nothing before. He starts going in about the thread count on his sheets and how his "duvet" really shouldn't be sat on because, "You not even 'spose to really sleep on that cover." I'm looking like where the hell do you think I'm from and where I been?? First of all, are you so bat sh!t stupid that you don't know it's a "duvet," not a comforter and yes, you usually don't use it because it's used to "cover" the bed versus having to go through the complexity of making the bed? Oh and about your thread count or threads per inch you half wit-you say 500....but more than likely you probably have 250 two-ply and they've fooled your ass. Fucker.

Ugh!

So instead of mauling me this jerk takes his jewelry off and passes out sleep on the top of his "duvet." I shake my head. It's now like 5 am I think and I can't even stand the sight of him. I grab my purse. Put my heels and jacket on and go downstairs to the front desk. I ask them when this shuttle comes and how to get back to N Y frikken C. They give me directions and tell me I have to wait till like 6 am to take the shuttle. I sit their seething. I get the ferry....mind you its 20 degrees....I take this cold ass ferry....BTW I only have on leggings and a thin leather because I was trying to be cute...SMH. Get across to lower Manhattan and low and behold the damn train is NOT within walking distance in these heels. I have to get on one of those buses and beg the man to drop me at the 2 train....back to effin BK. FML.

I relayed this story once to my old boss and not only was she infuriated with him but she replied, "He's lucky you not a Brooklyn chic, cause I would've took his car keys, drove that Range back to Brooklyn and text his ass where to pick that truck up from." 362