I'm on vacation. From the dating scene.

10:03 AM

Yes, I know you're waiting for part deux of the New York story but I can't hold this in.

These dudes out here act like they can treat u any kind of way, because there are more women than men around.
I've put in months of dating, eating, drinking, talking, listening to these dudes out here. (I'm sure the wait staff at
Boardwalk Billy's over in University know my name by now. I've been on quite a few football dates in there.)

I am taking a break. I deserve it. Like most jobs, it starts out fun and exciting, then it becomes a "jawb" with you getting all dressed to hear people tell you one thing while they do another. And you're supposed to be polite and smile and nod, because you're in the land of Southern Belles 'n shyt.

And I'm not just talking about in-person meetings either. There is this one fool who GAVE me his number. Told ME to call him. I gave him MY name, so he would know it's ME. And I call him:

Him: Who dis?
Me: Uh...it's T___...from ___.com? You gave me your number?
Him: Oh. Wussup?
Me: Uh...wow. Is this how you usually answer the...
Him: Yeah, when I dunno you, that's how I answer it.
Me: Okay. Wow.
Him: So wussup?
Me. Nothing. I'm good. Take care.
Him: (mumbles something) Bitch.

Keep in mind, he is 41 years old.

It must have been A-hole weekend here in Charlotte. Because earlier that day Mr. Caramel called asking for a rain check for a date we had on Sunday. Because he had a hangover. The second one in as many weeks.

(But he says he don't drink like that though, ha!)

I was cool, was getting bored with the same ole football date anyways. Ravens play on Monday so I could care less about football on Sunday. I decided to spend some time at my "office", Constellation Dollars. When did my workplace turn into a dating hub??? Ugh!

So I contact Evelyn and we make it a beer night.

I get home later that evening and guess who is on ___.com? Mr. Hangover himself. I text him to see if him (yeah, HIM) fellin' betta. He seemingly gets offended, instead of saying that he appreciates my concern and making another date, he goes, "I wasn't feeling bad. I just didn't feel like eating at the time."

Huh? First off, you told me you had to cancel because you were out of it. You went on an on about going to Club Tempo and having your truck keys taken away from your boy. Second, if you didn't want to eat, okay. We don't have to eat. Matter of fact, what happened to "I'm a spontaneous person"? I mean all we have been doing for four weeks is eating. What's really good?

*takes a deep breath*

So I'm packing up my shyt and heading out of Datingville for a few. Later.

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