Conversations With Myself (Part 2)

“No sir you haven’t.”

That was her response and she added a smiling-laugh face. I honestly don’t know what to think about it. On the surface, I thought to myself “CHRIS! You haven’t messed up yet!!!!!” However, as I thought more into it, she could’ve been sarcastic, she could’ve been amused, and she didn’t offer an explanation. So it could very well mean that she’s done with me. Was it her way of saying I’m being “dra-ma-tic”? Did it really just mean “No. We’re good.”? Did she think it was cute that I showed concern?

I am scared. I’m scared out of my mind. It’d be different if I didn’t know her tendencies, but I KNOW that if she cares, she usually goes into detail. She didn’t even ask why I felt this way. She didn’t let me know if she felt the distance too. Keep in mind that…this is the same girl that asked if she got two Red Box movies, would I consider them to be Red Box or Red Boxes? She believes in detail! This is the same girl that MADE SURE to LET YOU KNOW that she waited a month, before she gave you her new number. If she wanted you in her thoughts, she’d let you know.

It’s funny. I’m just thinking that…Chris, you were ready to react no matter what she said. Chris, go on about your day. For once, let her text YOU. Don’t respond. DON’T RESPOND!!!!! If she’s thinking about you, she’ll text you and ask how you’re feeling. If she doesn’t, then move on! Move on and believe that God has someONE better for you or someTHING better for you to do. After all these years, Lavincia is STILL right. You get caught up on things that you should be passed. It’s a new week! Let it go. One way or another, trust Delvanique to make the next move.

Check out part one of this conversation!

Conversations With Myself (Part 1)

Tic tic. Tic toc. Another minute runs off the clock. Tic toc. Tic tic. Another minute that your phone is waiting to be unlocked. Another minute that text is waiting to be clicked.

Chris, why oh WHY did you send that risky text? I’m SO glad you stopped holding your breath, because you were waiting for HOURS to get a response. As a matter of fact, YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOUR HOURS FOR A RESPONSE!!!!!! Don’t open it! It’s a trap!!!!!!

I received the response last night and I still haven’t opened it. I’ve been reveling in thinking about her and what it says. Is this the time where she confesses her undeniable feelings for me? Am I gona get all of her love? Is she gona be really pissed that I didn’t respond? Or is the fact that I didn’t respond not gona bother her (which leaves even more concern for me)?

What if it’s a one-word response? She’s NOTORIOUS for not answering your calls and text! Why would she choose to confess her feelings now? Are you stupid???? What if she says yal need to just call it quits? Are you ready to handle that? What if she spits in your face by blowing it over and claiming that you’re being “dra-ma-tic”? What if she’s confused, because she doesn’t feel the rift in our relationship? Why oh why oh WHY did you send that text Chris?

I sent it, because well…it was the only way I thought that I’d be in her thoughts. You see, the difference between me and her is that…it doesn’t take a tornado flying around my room in order for me to be thinking about her. She isn’t my reason for breathing, but I DO only think of her on two occasions. I think about her way more than I should and it scares me. She’s afraid of spiders, so whenever I have a run-in with one, I think of her. We used to have these insiders about Girl Scout Cookies, so it’s tough to not be thinking of her whenever I bite into a Samoa. Late at night when all the world is sleeping, I stay up and think of her. Why did you send that text Chris?

I sent it, because I’m unhappy with the status-quo. I’ve known her for a year and three months, but I stopped getting to know her a few months ago. I hardly see her and whenever I do, it’s awkward. Either awkward, because I don’t know what to say or because I get distracted by her beauty so easily. She is beautiful. She is my chocolate high and now I know what it feels like to be elevated. But at the same time, I don’t know what to talk about, because I don’t trust her anymore. I don’t trust her with my dreams, I don’t trust her with my feelings, and I barely trust her to smile back if I smile at her. I don’t trust her smile, because it’s seductive; that girl is poison. And no matter how soft that butt is, I’ve GOT to listen to Johnny when he says NEVER trust a big butt and a smile.

Chris, why did you send that text? Why are you going thru all of this over a number that you never asked for? You didn’t even ask to be in this situation! And now it feels like you’re losing something that you never had and that’s arguably what hurts the most. So go on about your day. Thanks for opening up to me. Now go open that text.

Wrong End of A Love Song

Since the Daily Post prompt is ” is “Awe” I think this post is quite fitting. It’s about the moment in time that I realized things wouldn’t workout with this young lady and I. After a few months I realized how I didn’t always “play” things the right way and…I essentially just sat back in awe.

But I can’t be too upset. I would notice whenever she walked in the room, but I didn’t acknowledge her as she did with me. I remember the time she ran to me as I walked in the room. She was so excited to see me and she let not only me, but everybody in the room know it. But I just couldn’t match her energy; I didn’t match her energy.

I didn’t catch her when she fell and even worse, I didn’t help her back to her feet. I didn’t walk her to her car whenever we were out late. I didn’t take full advantage of the “us” moments she tried to create. I didn’t grab her butt when she wanted me to. I didn’t hold her hand long enough. I didn’t hold HER long enough. Whenever she pushed away I just let her go. I didn’t pull her back in and I didn’t resist.

I didn’t give her my jacket when she was cold. And even worse, I gave it to another girl. I could go on and ON about how I messed up, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I learned and I’m learning. Even further, I’m taking responsibility for my part in why “we” never got a chance.

I basically friend zoned myself as she tried with all her might to pull me out. She treated me like I was the rain maker to get her out of a drought. She wanted me to be the ice cream that made her scream and shout. She was just too bright for me. It just wasn’t right for me. I lost my way and she tried to be light for me.

For awhile, I was upset with her. I was upset with her, I was upset with God, and I was upset with myself; but the emphasis was on HER and God. I knew that I wasn’t perfect and I wasn’t trying to be. And maybe, just maybe that was the problem. That was MY problem. I didn’t think she was worth the effort of trying to be perfect for.

For more insight, see Conversations With Myself (Parts one and two).

A Message To Bae

I am a poet. I hold the arsenal. I have the power to bring you to your knees screaming, “Baby baby PLEASE” like Dwayne Wayne.

I am a poet, but I don’t know if I have all the words to describe all of the captivating feelings that I have for you. Even further, I don’t know if you’d even read them.

I write, because it is the only way I get to see me in your eyes. My goal is to write about you so much that I cut you deep and you start bleeding ink. Maybe then you’ll write about me too. Bleed that ink onto paper and use your skin as the pen. Maybe if I’m special, you’ll write about how you want me to pin you up against the wall like the masterpiece that you are.

I want to touch you inappropriately. I want to walk my fingers from the tip of your chin to the small of your waist; leaving nothing overlooked and treating nothing as if it’s misplaced. I want my words to feel as though they’re fingertips tracing the curves of your hips. I want my gaze to have the capability of holding you in place and have you LOVE occupying that space. Every time I take a breath, I’d love to glance over and see that you stopped breathing. Searching, waiting, and longing for the next wave of poetic melodies to flow from my lips. I want every word that flows from my lips to make you fall deeper and deeper under my spell. And I hope it’s a trance that you never loop out of.

I want to write something in such a way that it leaves your heart quivering for days. I want to speak and watch my energy capture your soul. I want your favorite part of me to be my mind, because you’re always on it.

Just know that as I pray for you, I’m preying for your thoughts too. And when I count my blessings, I always make sure to count you at least twice. And even a third time for good measure. You have my heart and knowing it’s in good hands brings me great pleasure.

Sincerely,

The Guy That Has No Chance

Nothing Or No Thing?

The Daily Post Challenge is “Empty“. I thought this would be a GREAT opportunity to reflect back on the time that I gave an “empty” present.

I remember the year that I gave my girl nothing for Valentine’s Day. Fellas, you HAVE to be MEMORABLE!!!!!! I guarantee she will NEVER forget me OR the day she got NOTHING for Valentine’s Day. I dressed up nothing so nice that she thought it was something. And on top of EVERYTHING, I gave her EXACTLY what she asked for.

What I did was put a jar in her apartment in a random spot that she wouldn’t notice. You know, something that she would just pass by everyday and think nothing of it. Keep that in mind. She was looking for her gift at my place one day and I told her that I already hid it over at her place.

She had been looking and looking and looking all that week, but she couldn’t find it. Finally, Valentine’s Day came around. She called me over IMMEDIATELY! Like…as soon as the clock struck 12 a.m. I went over her place, but I told her I wasn’t coming in. Then she grabbed my hand, held it with determination, and told me exactly what I was going to do. She closed the door and was IMMEDIATELY like “Where’s my gift?” I chastised her a bit and said, “You didn’t find it?” Then in a VERY demanding fashion she said, “WHERE IS IT????” I ended up saying to her “Welp…you’re going to have to wait til’ morning.” And of course, she started pouting and she turned a movie on.

Fast-Forward to the morning and she wakes me up shaking me. “Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?” I was like “It’s over there!” She jumps up QUICK and goes in the direction I pointed. “Tell me if I’m getting closer!” Eventually after a few “heat” checks, she finally got it. SHE FINALLY GOT IT!!!!!!!

Remember the jar on her counter that I discussed earlier? Well, I had it turned around so she couldn’t see the label. When she picked it up, she kicked me out. The label on the jar had “NOTHING” written in all caps on it.

Don’t Let The Bedbugs Bite

I can’t help but laugh. Can I tell yal a story about this bug that flew in my room? I kept hearing this noise, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I started hearing the noise more clearly and it sounded like it was coming from behind my head (there was a window behind my head). I started getting the feeling that it was a bee, so I went to get some bee spray.

I came back in my room and I could see it. FORTUNATELY it wasn’t a bee, BUT…unfortunately I went to spray the bug and THE SPRAY CAN WAS JAMMED!!!!!!! Did I panic? No. I went to get a paper towel from my bathroom. Ok, well…maybe I went and got more than one paper towel (BUT that’s neither here nor there). FORTUNATELY, the bug was still in the same spot when I got back. And it only took me two swipes to get it!

The first time I missed and it landed on my pillow.

image

I’m not going to lie to yal; I might’ve screamed a little bit. But ooooh that second time! That second time I was triumphant! I had a triumphant moment!

image

I was like “ME! BY MYSELF!!!!!!!!” It would’ve been nice to have someone like her to come celebrate my triumphant moment with me, but ehhh dreams don’t always come true.

image

And that’s my story of the night. Hope yal enjoyed your bedtime story.

All photos, links, and videos used are not my own. I take absolutely POSITIVELY no credit for them or their original thoughts.

The Service Is To DIE For!

Sigh I just got THE WORST SERVICE at Chili’s in Cedar Hill!!!!!!!!!!

So my mom reeeeeally wanted to go out to eat and she reeeeeeeeally didn’t want to go by herself. SHE KEPT ASKING ME WHAT I WANTED TO EAT!!!!!! Quite honestly, we didn’t ride to my sister’s graduation together and we drove two seperate cars. Oh yea, AND my sister drove her own car too. My sister went out to eat with her friends and guess what I did! I. Went. Home. I thought that my choice was preeeeetty darn clear. I planned on finding something to eat at home.

Anywho, she just kept passively bugging me about it, so…I went. Of course, those who have been around me know that every time my mom asked me what I wanted to eat, I found a new way to say “I don’t care.” By the time that we got in the car, the answer was something like “I don’t know how much more clearly I can put this. I don’t care. Surprise me. I am openly and willingly deferring my right to have a say in where we eat tonight.” And she was like “I don’t know what I want to eat.” And I was like “Well, that definitely defeats the purpose of us being out here.” She knoooows that she didn’t want me to pick. Because IF IT WAS UP TO ME, anybody who has been around ME knows that I would have just said Panda Express and called it a night. BUT…she finally chose Chili’s.

We walked into the Chili’s in Cedar Hill. We stood there for like 5 minutes and I started to question my own existence. I thought that maybe my fat body was invisible. Then the HOEstess FINALLY acknowledged our presence, BUT I don’t think that she acknowledged that we were customers (if that makes sense). That HOE…stess was all dry and came up to the front speaking REAL quiet as if she was in kindergarten giving a presentation in front of the class! And the bad part was that Chili’s wasn’t even crowded. Did I mention that already? They WERE NOT CROWDED! She ended up taking our name, but after 2 more minutes, we just left.

Step 2: (I’m almost done…kinda) We went to the International Household of Pancakes located in Cedar Hill. WE GOT THE SAAAAAAME SERVICE!!!!!! I. Was. Hysterical. I just accepted the fact that I must not really be where I think that I am. It was craaaaay! Ok, let’s back track a bit for a second. It was funny, because I opened the door for my mom and this couple that walked in. IHOP in Cedar Hill has two sets of doors. My mom waited for the other door to be opened for her. The girl knew what she was waiting for, but…I don’t think the guy did. We went through an awkward pause and then the girl said, “I think she’s waiting for the door.” Looks at her boyfriend Now I don’t know if he just didn’t want to open the door for my mom or what, but uhhhh I think homegirl need to find a new man if he don’t open the door for her. Another sidenote. Why does every female claim to be Independent until there’s a door that needs to be opened???

Anyhow, we get in IHOP and AT LEAST after an ALMOST 5 minute waiting period, the manager comes out and says to us “One moment please. I’m cleaning a table for you.” At least he noticed (in less time than that HOE…stess at Chili’s) that we were indeed NOT invisible. The funny part is that I had to convince myself of that while explaining the Chili’s situation to the girl that walked in with us. She was perturbed with the situation as well.

Let’s fast-foward to us getting our food now. We got our food and it was cold. My mom got them to get her more pancakes, but it was such a sketch night and I really didn’t want them spitting in my food (although it’s neither here nor there that they hadn’t already done so). So I just took my cold waffles, my cold eggs, and my sketch bacon and ate it all. WE HAD TO FIGHT TO GET THE BROAD ATTENTION JUST TO BRING US SOME SYRUP!!!!!!!! Oh yea, also we only got one drink from start to finish. Drake voice No refill! No refill! No refill! No No NO!

Despite ALLLLLL of this, my mom still left a tip. It was like $2. That upset me. Waiters make $2.13 an hour! Do you REALLY feel that she earned an extra hours worth of wages????

People often ask me why (as a young person) I don’t support a $15 an hour minimum wage and this is the story I usually tell them.

%d bloggers like this: