Before I start, I just wanna say fuck the Giants
Hectic isn’t the word to describe this week.
From setting up radio interviews for my novel Thick When the Chances are Slim to interviewing others for the blog site and other things that don’t fit in a 24-hour span, there’s never a dull moment in the life of mine.
The weekend before this one I partied with the folks at Bigger and Better Thangs Entertainment…commonly known as BBT. They throw what many might call “big girl parties” in New York City.
The truth is that BBT parties at Abella’s, a restaurant/club located in lower Manhattan, is open to all shapes and sizes. The thick and sexy dominate BBT joints for the most part.
A comedy show kicked off before the partying. I skipped that. I wasn’t tryna hear ninja crack jokes
(“Ninja” is a fancier word for “nigga”…let’s move on)
The theme of the party was sports jersey night, particularly football. Fuck that. I got suited and booted.
This thick ass chick strutted out the club to her car. My crazy ass bopped toward her and told her to give me a hug.
And she did. Cool ass chick. I hate stuck up broads.
Turns out she's from Connecticut.
That makes sense...New York chicks normally wouldn't hug dudes they don't know out the blue.
We chopped it up a few seconds and I gave her a bookmark. She needed to change shoes and promised me a dance.
The dance was worth it…we took a flick together.
The long line didn’t bother me. I got inside 20 minutes after I got there. The bouncers denying the late arriving BBT promoters evoked a chuckled out of me. How do you get denied at your own joint?
Anyway...I caught my homeboy S tha Mogul leave the joint early from the side exit. He said the joint was bouncing. Hmmm…so I’m thinkin’ to myself, “Why the fuck you leavin’ so early?”
He was reluctant to tell me his reason…he claimed it wasn’t over a broad.
Oh well…more honeys for me.
Passing off bookmarks of THICK jumped off my first 15 minutes at the spot. I grind even when I’m supposed to relax. I saw this woman with an ass the size of Chicago waltzed toward the bathroom with her homegirl.
I waited in the hallway until she came out (I passed out bookmarks during that time)…I wanted to kick game at her.
Shorty came out and gave me the bullshit
ME: Hey, whassup? What’s your name?
GIRL (stops walking to turn around): (Says a name I forget)
ME: You enjoying yourself?
GIRL: Yeah, it’s okay
ME: Let me make you feel more than okay
GIRL: How you gonna do that?
ME: Give you all types of stimulation and good conversation
GIRL: How old are you?
Let me stop the dialogue right here.
Now fellas…whenever a chick asks you, “how old are you?” that means she’s giving you the Shit Test.
The Shit Test is when a chick asks you a question to determine whether she wants to deal with you. The “how old are you?” question is one of those.
I told her my age, and needless to say, she didn’t wanna fuck me with me after that
GIRL: I dated a young guy before. It didn't work out
ME: Me and the dude you dated are two different people
GIRL: What you do for work?
Aight…let me stop the dialogue again
Whenever a chick asks you, “What you do for work?” minutes into the conversation, that means 9 out of 10 times she’s a user. THAT particular question is the deal breaker for me.
I gave her a bookmark and briefly told her about my book amidst the loud ass music bouncing off the walls. I didn’t tell her that to please her considering I was promoting and spitting game at the same time.
ME: I’m going to give you my phone number so you can get at me sometime
GIRL (puts bookmark in her purse): I’ll see you later tonight
ME: You better get me while the getting is good
GIRL: You better tell that to those fat bitches out there
Well…not for me…I thought her "fat bitches" comment was funny considering that some dudes might consider HER fat.
She switched that phat ass away from me like a rocking boat. I wasn’t hurt or sad at all. I’m seasoned enough to keep it moving. I wouldn’t even say it’s her lost because she never had me. She DID lose out on some elevation, though.
Now I’m gonna show ya’ll how to rebound from a rejection.
I saw this other shorty later on that night texting away on her phone. Poor fingers. They needed a break. So I gave them one.
She never saw me coming...I was straight guerilla on shorty...I stepped to her as her eyes latched on to her phone screen.
ME: Your phone ain’t right without my name and number
GIRL (laughs and leans toward me): How you gonna say my phone ain’t right without your name and number?
ME: Its just is. My name is King. What’s yours?
GIRL: Trina (yes, I actually remembered her name). How old are you? (gives the Shit Test)
ME: (I tells her my age)
GIRL: Okay, cool
ME (jokingly): Is that a problem?
GIRL (giggles): No, that’s not.
ME: Okay, cool. Let me give you my number so you can hit me up sometime
Then we exchange information. After we did that, I strolled off and did my thing.
You see, my people…don’t let a rejection fuck up your night…there’s PLENTY of fish in the sea….Michael Jordan didn’t make every game winning shot, and he STILL took those after missing them.
I danced and caught up with some familiar heads that night. What’s weird is that I don’t remember the songs the DJ played.
Then again, I think 98 percent of the music nowadays sucks ass. My subconscious mind did me a favor by allowing me to get my sip on while mingling.
The moral of this story is…
LIVE LIFE, HAVE FUN, AND DON’T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF
Aight, ya’ll…I’m out
Nah’Sun the Great