I went out dancing with a bunch of friends this weekend to celebrate a birthday. I realize that in venues like this, people drink entirely too much and act differently than they would otherwise. However, a grown man acting like a child isn’t something you see very often.
We were on one of the upper levels of the club getting our reggae groove on, when someone came up behind me and started dancing. This isn’t out of the ordinary, and usually when dancing to reggae (dancehall), it’s expected. I was in my element, and never bothered to look behind me to see what cretin I was dancing with.
After about 5 songs, I was ready to sit down and rest for a little bit, so I stepped away from twinkletoes behind me. *Bump* I took two steps and he bumped right into me. I took a few more steps away from the dance floor and *bump* again. I got that sinking feeling that this wasn’t going to be good (cue the scary horror music… DUN DUN DUUUUNNNN). I looked at one of my friends and she gave me that “Good Lord that’s a hot mess standing behind you” look and that sealed it for me. I turned around to tell him that I was stepping away for a few and I almost passed out from the sight.
“Next tooth four miles” may as well have been tattooed on his forehead with the humongous gaps between his teeth. I’m not a fan of grillz, but wearing one would really have been to his advantage. I thought Mr. Potatohead was something Playskool made up for the sake of toddler enjoyment, not based on someone’s actual face. Again, let me just say that I’m no supermodel and I’m comfortable with that, but sometimes I wonder if fugly is a disease. But I do recognize that good people come in all levels of attractiveness, so I didn’t hold his facial fuck-up against him.
I told him that I was going to rest a while with my friends and he said, “Nooo, I really want you to stay here with me”. I proceeded to tell him that I’d be back in about 20 minutes and I’d look for him when I came back and I promised that I’d dance with him then. He looked disappointed but didn’t object verbally, so I went ahead downstairs with my girlfriends. As soon as we got to the bar to sit down, there he was. “Babygirl, I didn’t want to wait for you, I wanted to look at your thickness some more. You know how to move dem thighs” *Ummm, what the holy goodness? Why must you people always mention thickness and thighs when you’re trying to flirt?* I thanked him politely, turned around, and he went away. Well, I think he went away, but I was afraid to turn around to make sure. I didn’t feel his hot breath all over the back of my neck, so I assume he did.
Fifteen or so minutes later, we made the trek back up the stairs. There he was again. He said some mess like, “I’ve been waiting for you and your fatty to get back up here”. I politely told him that what he said was rude and he needs to work on his big-pimpin tactics. “Baby pleeeasse, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I want you to talk to me!!” I’ve never seen a grown man turn so quickly into a blithering mess, especially over a woman he didn’t know. The best I could do was shake my head and walk away.
I excused myself from the group to go to the restroom, and before I could make it there, I saw this fool standing at the threshhold. He was standing there holding the wall looking at his watch like he was waiting for something. He saw me and his eyes lit up like Christmas lights the day after Thanksgiving. I started singing the 80s song by Rockwell, “I always feel like somebody’s watching me, and I have no privacy…”
“I knew you’d have to go to the bathroom at some point, so I figured I’d wait for you.” I told him point blank that I wasn’t interested and that I had a superwonderful booyfriend at home(so what I lied). This mess of a man actually started snivelling and I saw tears. He told me that I should leave my boyfriend and pick him. Soon we were in full “What’s your man got to do with me”…”I got a man” mode. I finally was like, “Yo negro, back off, you have NO chance. Get the fuck out of my face”. He had the nerve to break into a temper tantrum, complete with tears and foot stomping. I rolled my eyes and went into the bathroom. I came out with some tissue, handed it to him (yes he was still standing there a complete basket case) and said “Here. Use this, your mascara and nose are running. Oh, and crocodile tears don’t impress women. That’s why you’re single and looking now. Pick yourself up, man.”
I honestly don’t know what comes over these men when they get some alcohol in their systems. I’m looking forward to the day when a man approaches me with some tact. Maybe I’m asking too much, but something has really got to give.