So, I turned 30. I was totally told by Apple Care that there would be a bevy of hoes and good fortune. In the past week, I’ve gotten neither. But since a winner don’t quit on themselves, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I logged on to a site where D&A was abundant, and intelligence and shame was void. I didn’t take my own advice by practicing self-love before getting on because that’s how you stop yourself from making bad decisions, but I figured I’m grown and I can make sage choices.
Woo shit. I was totally wrong.
I get a message from this young fellow. He was bearded and kind of fullfilled my Illadelph Fantasy (we’ll talk about that later). We had a short exchange of words, and I was off to his apartment in my neighborhood. I made up in my mind that if shit went left, that he lived by a Rite Aid and I needed to pick up deodorant so the trip wouldn’t have been in vain.
He was very secretive. He didn’t want to give me his apartment number and gave me all sorts of Alice In Wonderland ass directions to finally get there. I was slightly turned on by it.
OH THIS SHIT IS ABOUT TO BE SO LIT.me
I get to his apartment door and he opens the door where I can’t see him. He had MachoFucker porn playing on his Toshiba laptop that was in clear view. I stepped into the apartment and I get a look at him.
This n*gga is wide as God’s grace.
“Oh, so were those your pics,” I asked as I took a seat on the couch with a confused look on my face.
“Nah, that’s me but those are old,” he responded. He was wearing a wife beater that was so tight it could’ve only been made by NASA. “So, what’s up?”
N*gga! “What’s up?” The f*ck you mean?!
Here’s the thing:
I got up and said I had something to do. His face screwed and confused like this was a sure-fire plan to get his rocks out and couldn’t understand why it wasn’t working. Or, maybe he was hungry. I don’t know.
“Oh, aight. I have to go to work anyway,” he said.
I walked out and went to McDonald’s.