August 2015. My cousin Cheese was getting married. A block of hotel rooms was reserved at a discounted rate and I was in search of a roommate. Queen B was already sharing a room with Chelle and Vic was out of town that weekend. Everyone else was paired up.
About week before the wedding there was a fam get together at Cheese’ brother’s place. We were all having drinks, eating and joking around; the usual suspects having the usual good times. Everyone was excited for the upcoming nuptials. Their Wedding Emcee, and homeboy, was there and I decided that he’d be the perfect roomy. He is a great guy and hilarious company.
I asked him if he wanted to bunk with me. He was down and we decided to be each other’s “plus one” for the wedding.
To make things easy, we decided to just meet at the hotel and head to the reception together.
The wedding was actually the day after I met The Wrestler at Cake nightclub.
It was hot and muggy out on the wedding day. The Wedding Emcee was there, so naturally, we sat together. The groom and the bridal party looked fantastic, but Cheese was utterly breathtaking.
I was asked to do a reading during the ceremony. When I got to the podium, the prayer I had practiced reading wasn’t in front of me; so, after what felt like an eternity of confusion, I fucking read the prayer that the book was opened to. A few seconds later, the alter girl quietly interrupted and turned to the right prayer. Not only was I fucking embarrassed, now my ass was sweating through my dress and my forehead was a glow. I run hot and instead of having sweaty armpits, my upper lip grows a sweat ‘stache, my T-zone instantly shines and my backside creates a lovely dew. It happens very suddenly and it’s all very sexy. Thank God I had another dress to change into for the reception.
Once the ceremony was over, the Wedding Emcee and I figured out a game plan and parted ways. I had to grab some shit from the mall and he asked that I pick up some face cloths so he could wipe his brow down from time to time. I could totally empathise with his sweat situation and was happy to help.
I checked into the hotel around 3pm and as I was unpacking, the Wedding Emcee walked in. We joked around calling each other “honey” and “boo thang”. While I took another shower to wash off the church sweats, he worked on more jokes and content. We had a couple of drinks and headed over to the banquet hall in his car.
Well, the wedding was as fun as we had expected. Copious amounts of booze was consumed, and in order for me to keep up, I did a few bumps. I hadn’t touched the stuff in over five years (and haven’t since then), so I only needed a little.
The Wedding Emcee did his magic – engaged the crowd, made us laugh our fucking asses off and superbly entertained the crowd for the entire evening.
As the night moved on, I, along with the rest of the fam, became increasingly fucked up. It was so much fun!
Near the end of the night, I was in “brown out” mode.
I don’t remember leaving the venue, but what I do remember is that at one moment, we were all on the dancefloor singing and dancing; and in the next, I was making out with the Wedding Emcee on our way back to the hotel. I was riding in the front seat of Queen B’s car (she was sober) and the Wedding Emcee was in the backseat trying to give her the directions to the hotel. I delayed our arrival because I kept grabbing that motherfucker from the backseat and shoving my tongue down his throat. Queen B was laughing and yelling at me, telling me to stop until we got to the hotel.
When we finally arrived, everyone was trying to figure out whose room to go to. I wanted to change out of my dress and heels so the Emcee and I headed to our room. The next thing I remember is being on top of him (clothed) and making out. Hard.
Now, I love the Wedding Emcee as a friend. Only as a friend. If I hadn’t been so wasted, I wouldn’t have even considered making out with him. He just isn’t my type.
Our room ended up being the party room. We just hung out, drank more, shot the shit. We spent a lot of time out in front of the hotel smoking.
I was actually coherent and sobering up as the wee hours of the morning approached.
Queen B kept reminding me of the car ride back to the hotel. She said I was in relentless “wolf” mode. We just kept laughing our fucking asses off. She asked if I was going to have sex with him. I said hell no.
Finally, around 5am, people left our room and me and the Emcee went to bed. The room came with one king sized bed, so we slept next to each other. His laboured breathing and snoring didn’t allow me to fall asleep. My mind and body felt like mush.
We got up and checked out around 11am. I couldn’t find my fucking phone. We went back to the reception hall to pick up his car and to see if I left my phone there and we scoured the outdoor area and parking lot. No fucking luck.
We gave up, met up with some peeps for breakfast (terrible idea) and I drove my hungover ass home.
I spent that entire Sunday in bed. I phoned my cell over and over. I thought about the make-out. Could I go for him? Doubtful. Like I said before, I loved him as a friend, but never saw him as anything more.
Finally, around 10pm, I phoned my cell one more time. The front desk person answered. Someone had found it outside and turned it in. Awesome.
Red Flag #1 – This guy wasn’t my type and I wasn’t really attracted to him. Even after all of my overthinking, I was trying to convince myself otherwise.
He was pretty overweight, smoked chronic, drank and indulged in other narcotics. I liked that he knew how to have a good time, but my nagging thought was that he was going to drop dead of a fucking heart attack.
Anyway, he and I talked on the phone once in a while and messaged each other. We never actually went on a date, but he did ask me if I was interested in seeing “where this could go”. I told him I didn’t know what I wanted and I that I was pretty wasted when the whole make-out session went down. His reaction was positive. So, we kept talking.
When we did meet up, it was always in a group situation. The only times we were one-on-one was when we were in the car. He was always sweet and respectful. He never made any real moves on me.
His homies (which included some of my non-blood related cousins) were excited about the prospect of us dating. They were far more hopeful than I was. They made jokes and innuendos which got annoying. I felt bad that I wasn’t feeling him; and I could tell the razzing embarrassed him. Cheese and I talked about it quite a bit and she could tell I was apprehensive and she was supportive of me.
During every couple of conversations, he would ask if I changed my mind, if I was interested in being more than just friends. I should’ve been honest and said “no”. I was starting to feel pressured and that was a complete turn off.
I knew I wanted a man. I just didn’t know at what capacity. I was fucking the Wrestler and messaging other men. I continued swiping on Tinder, OK Cupid and checking my Match account. I was “keeping my options open”. I mean, why not?
We kept talking and eventually I invited him to a Halloween party that Kol was throwing.
I am such a dumb-dumb.
In that same conversation he invited me to dinner at his parents’ house the day after the party and I told him no. I had plans with a new guy I had started talking to the following afternoon but even if I didn’t have plans, I wouldn’t have gone. I didn’t tell him that, but what I did tell him was that meeting his parents and sister for dinner was too much. He sounded like he understood.
We made plans for him to pick me up to go to Kol’s and he would crash at my place if he was too fucked up to drive (100% likely).
Kol’s Halloween parties were fucking good times. I borrowed Cheese’ Pocahontas costume and he was Bumblebee Man from the Simpsons (his costumes were epic every year). As predicted, we had a wicked time. Everyone drank, hacked butts, joked around and we kicked ass at beer pong.
At one point, when we were in the backyard standing and shooting the shit around the fire, he asked me again if I would join him for dinner at his parent’s the next day. I again, turned him down. This time I could see the disappointment. The glow of the fire against his rejected chubby face, standing there dressed as the Bumblebee Man – it was a pretty sad fucking scene man. I kind of felt like an asshole.
Near the end of the night, I received a phone call from the Wigger (wait for the next blog post). I was shit faced talking on the phone laying on the carpet in Kol’s second floor hallway. I vaguely remember Kol checking up on me and laughing. The Wedding Emcee also checked up on what I was doing. I don’t remember our exact interaction or how long he was up there, but I am sure he could tell I was getting my flirt on with the guy on the other end of the phone.
We were the last ones to leave that night; completely shit faced and waiting for “Keys to Us” to arrive. He and I didn’t speak. I could tell he was pissed; but we spoke with Kol and her hubby to pass the time.
The last thing I remember is getting in the car. When I woke up, still drunk the next morning, he was no where to be found. All I could think of was how the fuck he got home.
I messaged him right away and called him. No response.
I then remembered that I had an early afternoon date with the Wigger. So many thoughts were going through my head. I was fucking exhausted, still drunk and did something that might’ve hurt the Wedding Emcee’s feelings.
After I got home from the Wigger’s place the Wedding Emcee messaged me.
He was pissed that I was talking to another guy on the phone at the party and that I didn’t want to meet his parents. He wanted me to admit that the wedding make-out was a drunken mistake. He also told me that when we got to my house after Keys to Us dropped us off, I ran inside without a word and shut the door. He did a few bumps in his car to sober up and drove his drunk ass to his parents’ house.
To top things off, I ruined his birthday. Kol’s Halloween party fell on the same day as his motherfucking birthday.
When I am wasted, my unconscious actions are out of my hands.
I apologized to him. I admitted that the make-out was a drunken mishap (as I told him before).
I felt terrible but I wasn’t dishonest. I never told him I was interested in dating him.
I heard through the grapevine that some of his friends weren’t happy with the outcome either, but they never tried to hear my side. At least my homegirl Cheese understood.
I’ve seen him a handful of times since then and never talked about what happened (not that anything really fucking happened).
Duration = 1.5 months of “talking”. There was no real intimacy of any kind other than the drunk kissing.
Lesson(s) Learned:
- Don’t lower or change your standards just because someone is sweet or nice. Sometimes that just isn’t enough.
- I need to stop convincing myself that my attraction to a man will “grow on me”. Fuck that. I am just delaying telling him the truth, which is, “I am just not that into you”.
- I repeat, if the spark/chemistry/fire isn’t there, please move the fuck on. I beg of you.
- Just because you have a drunken make-out or hook up session does not fucking mean you need date that person, or give them a chance. It’s called a one-night stand for a reason. Let it happen and fucking let it go.
- Alcohol is a hell of a drug. Drink wisely.
- If you are not into the guy who is crushing on you, and it’s his birthday, do not ask him to accompany you to a friends’ party/dinner/etc. It’s a recipe for disaster.
