The best d!ck this side of Mecklenburg County (continued from the last post)

6:23 PM

There are over 969,000 documented residents in Charlotte and the neighboring towns. That's a lot of souls, spirits and attitudes. One minute, life is hella country -- with the best there is to offer in home-gown produce which can only be found in a farmer's market. The next minute, you can find chic transplants making their way Uptown into Blue  for live Latin jazz and cosmopolitans.

Last time I mentioned how church seems to be that one thing to do here, regardless of who you are in these 282__ zip codes. Welp, love seems to be the other thing to do. Love with the one you actually love, love with the one you lust and love with the one with a broke dude with a felony record.

Apparently if you're a guy, penis is the only big thing poppin' down here. Where else can a woman with two small kids rent a cozy house for about $700.00 a month, move her boyfriend in, (oops, I mean fiance -- that is also the thing to do here, call your unmarried live-in man your fiance, whether he popped that question or not...smh!) and he doesn't pay a dime toward the bills? Sure, his ankle accessory means he cannot work between the hours of 6 p.m. and 6 a.m. but that doesn't keep him from roaming around.

You'd think with S.W.A.T. on his azz for something drug related, he's making enough to pay rent, right. *sigh* Last week the woman was evicted from the cozy home.

But it doesn't stop there: The shame of losing a home that way wasn't enough for her man, oh no! There was a court hearing about the eviction (and the fact that he wasn't supposed to be living there in the first place!) and guess who shows up acting a damned fool in front of the judge? Yep, The Anklet.

So as my realtor friend is telling me about her former tenant(s), I immediately cut her off in disgust to ask, "What on earth does this man have that makes him such a keeper?" Then I paused.

"I know what'll make a woman do that. Bawahaha!"

We both paused; another friend, a sweet elderly woman was in our presence and I wasn't going to say the D word in front of her. There we all stood laughing our azzes off. I was proud at how polite I was being for keeping the D out of the conversation until my realtor friend blurted:

"Ain't no dick that dang good!"

Somehow I beg to differ. Shoot, they sure act like it's that good down here. And the men, married or not, sure swear it is that good. Later that day, Mr. Married HVAC man told me I looked good and proceeded to make a case for having a "sit down" with me. I was like "For what?" I already told him I'm in a relationship -- and reminded him again how married he is -- but then he proceeded to try to measure the level of love I might be in via text messaging:

"How long y'all been dating? How old is he?"

"Excuse you?"

"I bet he a punk."

"Goodbye," I texted.

They must have been giving out Blue Ribbons for dicks up in Raleigh, during the State Fair.

I can't with these dudes. Thankfully, I don't have to.

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