Robbin' Da Cradle

Ah, my life. So here is what happened to me yesterday.

I was jejely sitting at a table in the public library, my laptop on and running with my online class displayed. I was supposed to be studying, but I was engrossed in my favorite author, Eric Jerome Dickey's book, PLEASURE, a book that had way more sex plots than I cared for.

As with every other good novel I have read, I was totally, unashamedly into the book, oblivious of my surrounding and the pair of eyes that had been watching me. But he interrupted my flow. The conversation that followed between us was fast paced and familiar in an unfamiliar way.

Him: What book are you reading?

Me: *taking my eyes away from the book and lifting my head to see a young guy standing on the other side of my table* Uhm... Pleasure by Eric Jerome Dickey.

Him: So why do you have your laptop on?

Me: I'm supposed to be using it.

Him: Why don't you use the ones here? *referring to the library computers*

Me: Cause I have mine.

Him: But these ones are free.

Me: So is mine.

Him: Are you writing a paper?

Me: No

Him: Is it (the book) for school?

Me: No

Him: Are you in school?

Me: Yeah.

Him: What school?

Me: XXXXX XXXXX XXXXXX XXXXXXX

Him: What are you taking up there?

Me: Psychology.

Him: Oh, cool. So can you read my mind?

Me: *laugh...this is a question I have heard too many times* Not yet.

Him: Want to know what's on my mind?

Me: *smiling, realizing this dude was flirting with me* Tell me.

Him: I can help you; you can help me. You feel me?

Me: No, not really.

Him: Can I come over and draw it for you?

Me: Sure.

Him: *comes over to my right side. Draws two stick figures, one being me, and the other him. A bent arrow extends from my stick figure to his stick figure and another arrow from his stick figure to mine* Got it?

Me: *shaking my head* No. Tell me in words.

Him: *Pulls a chair and sits by my side, less than an arm's length away* You help me; I help you. We help each other. Cool?

Me: Cool.

Him: I might become crazy tomorrow, and you'll be my Psychologist.

Me: Okay.

Him: I know a lot about cars. Maybe I could fix yours some day.

Me: Cool.

Him: So maybe we could have ice cream, see a movie some time.

Me: *smiling uncontrollably, with much shame* How old are you?

Him: How old are you?

Me: I asked first.

Him: And I asked second.

Me: So answer first.

Him: Save the best for last.

Me: Tell me.

Him: How old do I look?

Me: Don't know.

Him: Guess.

Me: I'm bad at guessing.

Him: Practice.

Me: I did. Failed woefully @ it.

Him: I'm 18.

@ this point, I lowered my head in SHAME.

Him: Hold old are you?

Me: XX

Him: Cool.

Me: No, not cool. I'm XX years older than you.

Him: I know. I can do math.

Me: That's a lot of years.

Him: I know.

Me: You can do math.

Him: Yes. So what's up?

Me: *smiling* I can't do this.

Him: Why not?

Me: I'm older than you.

Him: So?

Me: So...I can't go see a movie with you.

Him: So you can't have a relationship with an 18 year old?

Me: No.

Him: I'm legal. It's not like I'm 17.

Me: I know.

Him: I should have lied and said I was 21

Me: I'd still be XX years older than you.

Him: You wouldn't date a twenty-one year old?

Me: *shaking my head* I wouldn't even date someone my age.

Him: So you're saying you can't learn anything from me?

Me: I didn't say that.

Him: So you can learn something from someone younger?

Me: Yeah, but not in the way you want me to.

Him: Can we be friends?

Me: Sure.

Him: Will you call me?

Me: I'll think about it.

Him: When will you let me know?

Me: When I'm done thinking about it.

Him: *looks at me funny like he could see through me, his look betraying his unbelief in my words* If I walk out of here, I might never see you again.

Me: I come here all the time. *lies*

Him: I don't. So you're gonna call me?

Me: Yes.

Him: How were you gonna call me? You didn't even ask for my number.

Me: I was going to. *lies*

Him: When?

Me: After this conversation *lies*

Him: *laughs* Who are you gonna ask for?

Me: You

Him: You didn't ask for my name.

Me: Was going to.

Him: When?

Me: After getting your number *lies*

Him: *looks @ me in that way that woulda made me tingle...if he was a man* What's your name?

Me: Vera *truth*

Him: Let me put my number in your phone.

I hand him the phone, he puts his number in and saves it under his name, Hakeem

A little girl is lurking close to him, about 11 or 12 years old. I ask: Is she your sister?

Him: *smiles* Yes. She's not my daughter.

Me: I didn't think she was. *truth*

Him: *stands up, stretches his hand out to shake mine* I'll be looking forward to hearing from you, Vera.

Me: *shaking his hand* You will. *LIES*

He was fine, no doubt. The conversation flowed well, almost literary and poetic, but after all was said and done, he was still 18, and I was still XX years older than him, unwilling to become a cougar. All I could think about were the insults I will receive from my big-mouthed friends, Uju & Busola. I could just hear the insults in my head:

1. So Vera, are you taking your man to Mickey D for a happy meal?
2. Is your man at the baby sitter's place?
3. Vera, were you his date to his high school prom?
4. Have you ever changed his diaper?
5. Busola will say, "Look, Hakeem, just because you're dating my friend does not mean you can disrespect me. After all, your mates call me Aunty."
6. What's your favorite Gerber flavor?
7. Vera, have you fed your man his bowl of cerelac?
8. What size does he wear, 2T or 3T? ('T' stands for toddler in children's clothes).

Kai.... my Verastic life!

**** Hakeem is not his real name. And yes, this is a true life story.*******

Priceless!

His Versace sunglasses ------- $200

His 2008 Acura RL ----------$46, 280

His colgate smile -------------$1, 000, 000

The blush on my cheeks when I caught him staring @ me ---- $9.99 (from Revlon)

The look on my face when I realized that he was a she ------- PRICELESS!!!

There are somethings in life that money can't buy. For everything else, there is Mastercard...to buy medicated glasses, so I can better differentiate between men & women.


This is a true life story...unfortunately

I Met Mr. Kisser.....Again!

If you don't know who Mr. Kisser is, please click HERE

Where do I start?? Okay, I'll start from Sunday morning.

My blogville husband, NaijaBloke (yes, we are still married!) came into town. He forgot his charger, so he came to meet me in church on Sunday morning to get my charger (which he was supposed to give me back later, but forgot to... but anyways... lol). I was to meet him later that night at a big party in Capitol Heights.

But first, I had to attend a little graduation reception. Busola's sister graduated from high school, so I went over to pay my respects. I didn't have time to buy her a gift, but I remembered to return her mother's plate - the one I used to take rice home in May. I was trying to find parking when I drove into something. I thought it was nothing until I was ready to leave and realized I had a flat tire. Crap! My front passenger tire was gone.

Busola's dad and uncle helped me fix my spare tire. I didn't even know I had a spare tire and a jack in my trunk. It's amazing how many things I don't know about my car. The spare tire, as I learnt from Busola's dad, was a doughnut. It was one tiny tire that looked like it belonged to a motorcycle.

In spite of my discomfort with the tire, I drove one hour to Capitol Heights to meet NaijaBloke. The party was bubbling. The musician was Mr. Solek. I had never heard about him till that day, but he was really good. The music was the kind that had you bopping your head and tapping your feet unconsciously. I really wanted to dance, but Funmi and the rest were not there to act stupid with me on the dance floor. NaijaBloke was on the dance floor talking with his friends and he asked me to come & dance. I was still sitting down doing shakara... until I spotted Mr. Kisser.

I jumped up from my seat and ran to NaijaBloke. I told him I needed to make a call, so I ran outside & called Funmi. The stupid girl just laughed @ me. I went back inside and went straight to the dance floor. I tried [unsuccessfully] to cover my face with my braids. That dance that I was doing shakara for ehn, I started dancing it immediately. I refused to look @ Mr. Kisser's face, but I had to watch him from the corner of my eyes to make sure he was not too close.

Eventually, our eyes met. But I chickened out and looked away immediately. LOL. Mr. Kisser kept looking @ me, but I kept dancing and acting oblivious to the pair of eyes that were watching me closely. I knew Mr. Kisser would not approach me as long as I was with NaijaBloke. But when I got tired of the staring, I told NaijaBloke that I had to leave. Really, I was tired, but that was not my main reason for running away. Bloke said I should give him 5 minutes. He went to talk to his friends. Those five minutes felt like five hours. I felt so alone. So vulnerable. So naked! Mr. Kisser was still watching me. He was trying to make me sweat. LOL.

Finally, Bloke walked me outside. If you see the speed I used to drive off ehn... I didn't even care that I was driving on a doughnut. Kai! Which kin wahala be dis? The reason why I really didn't wanna talk to Mr. Kisser was because I had been ignoring his calls. I had stopped picking his calls after that one conversation we had where he complimented the ebony skin that I didn't have.

I told my marine friend about my ordeal, and he had a good suggestion: next time I'm in such a situation, I should approach the person first and accuse him of not calling me or returning my calls. LOL. See me see madness ooo! If I had done that, Mr. Kisser woulda called me crazy. LOL.

Anyway, I fixed my tire yesterday (after visiting 3 different locations under the hot sun). They said the hole was so big that it could not be patched. I got a new tire. Don't ask me where the hell I drove my car into. I've been asking myself the same question. Bloke had the nerves to say that women cannot drive. I go wound pesin oo!