Thought we were onto something…

The downside to assuming are the three letters that begin that word.

“So, what’s on your mind?” He asked. He had a little laugh in his voice. I guess he was trying to lighten the mood.

“Nothing really. Just tired from being up talking all night.” I lied.

“You can always take a nap.We have a decent amount of a drive ahead of us. You can wake up feeling brand new.

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. I think I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute.”

“We’re not in contact like that anymore, Sam. And it wasn’t anyone’s fault. People just grow up and grow apart.”

“I’m cool. I’m not tripping off anything. I asked a question and you answered honestly. I appreciate that.”

“Well, I learned that honesty is best regardless of how it affects the person you are being honest with. It’s liable to eat you alive if you’re not.” I was thinking, what the hell is he blabbing about?

“What will eat you alive?”

“The lies. Your morals or lack thereof.”

“So is your lies what broke up the relationship?” I blurted out my question and instantly I regretted it. I wished the sounds coming from the vehicles on the road could continue to fill up the awkward silence now taking place in this huge truck.

“You hold no punches, huh?”

“It’s a gift and a curse. I apologize. I was out of line for asking that, this soon anyway.”

He scoffed. “At all. You were out of line for asking at all.”

I was taken aback. “How else will I be able to get to know you? I mean there are ways of listening to people’s stories and learning who they are.”

“Sam, I’m not saying you can’t find out who I am. I’m saying there’s tact. You can ask, but be polite about it.”

“You mean dance around it?” My attitude was beginning. This is why I decided to take a break from dating. I didn’t have “tact”. I didn’t ask questions in a “tactful” way and I could care less about trying to coddle some grown ass man during what really was an interview toward getting to know me intimately. I was direct. The thing is men didn’t really like that. Hence why I was single and untouched for months now.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” One point for you, Miles.

“It’s been a while.” I tried to sound confident in my answer. I wasn’t going to let a hint of loneliness seep out in my confession.

“Why?” he asked, really pushing it and trying to disguise the condescension.

I wanted to scream that I just had a low tolerance for lies, connivers, manipulators and men who thought the ultimate goal was getting to my vagina and purposely bypassing my heart and mind; which to me was close to criminal intent. But I lacked tact and that would be a disaster.

“I’ve been busy with the bar and work.”

“So, it has nothing to do with that east coast attitude you have? People down here ain’t tryna deal with that.”

“Wow! So because I ask questions, I have an attitude?”

“No! It’s because of the questions you ask is why you have an attitude. Just let things flow. You already ready to write me off. We just met. I could be the man of your dreams, your next husband even, and because of the relationship I had before you, you’re already trying to label me a bad guy.”

“I just want to get to know the kind of guy I may be getting involved with.”

“And you can if you try to get to know me, not what you want to assume about me. Not every guy is a bad guy. And no, not every guy comes into a relationship knowing exactly what he wants, just like every girl doesn’t get into a relationship knowing everything she wants. No one really knows that until they are in the relationship and start to figure out what they are missing.” I laughed in my mind. Brother Miles thought he had all the answers.

“What if you get all you want but it’s not enough for the other person?” The conversation was turning down a lane that I wasn’t prepared for.

“Then that’s not your fault and there’s nothing you can do but thank God for the lesson, the experience and move on. What’s for you is for you. You can’t force someone to see all the things you bring to the table. Especially when you’re not their type of meal. Doesn’t make you any less desirable for the right one.” Miles looked me in the eyes while he answered. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to reassure me or himself.

But how do you know you met the “right one”?

I fell asleep during the ride. I kept dreaming of boats and water. I could even smell the saltwater. I heard reggae music, Bob Marley’s ‘Is this love’ playing throughout the truck. I awoke to Miles rubbing my cheek. He was smiling at me.

“Wake up sleepy head. We have arrived.”








Did you know?…

That life is full of all kinds of heartaches and heartbreaks and wishes of death on the ex. Evil minded? Possibly. I like to think of it as more of a victim who is lashing out from the mental abuse of a person who was supposed to love her. Exhibit A.

Remember Miles? The fine ass construction guy whom I left with? He was the one who walked into my bar with his own beat booming in my vagina? Yeah! That guy. Well, he and I left that night and we had great conversation until early morning as I lay in his bedroom while the Houston sunlight touched the sheets on his bed and beamed on the black cherry nail polish on my toes. And I don’t know what I was thinking. Somehow, everything about him made me feel so comfortable. He didn’t even try and pressure me for sex. We spoke about everything from crypto currency to the inflated job market and how getting a trade would’ve saved us both from financial headache, although he was blessed with a football scholarship to Texas A&M University that covered mostly EVERYTHING and I wasn’t, yet the conversation still showed that he and I had thoughts in common.  I didn’t see any rings, pictures of exes, baby anything around the house and his phone didn’t even vibrate. BOOM! This just might work is what I thought.

“Holy shit! We actually spent all this time talking.” I got up from the bed and started putting on my clothes. He gave me a t-shirt when we got to his apartment so I could be comfortable. Truth be told, the t-shirt was a plus. I was already planning how I should introduce him to Mom. And this is where the problem began.

“Wait! So you’re going in? Are you even going to have enough energy today to focus on the spreadsheets?” His question had merit. I would probably be drained.

“I think I will be able to manage, unless you have something better planned.” The smile that developed on his face.

“I might.”

“Why are you looking like the cat that ate the canary?”

“Maybe I’m just thinking about how the canary tasted to the cat.”

Watch it now! “Hmmm, I see where your mind is and here I was thinking you was all innocent.”

“It’s not even like that. Let’s go to your house and get you something comfortable to wear.”

“Where are we going?” What the hell? Was I convinced that he was sane enough to show him where I lived?

“Two choices. We can do Galveston orrrrrrr we can drive down to New Orleans.”

“For just a day?” I was definitely with a road trip, but I couldn’t do NOLA for one day.

“You’re right. Pack enough for three days. You won’t get in trouble with your job, will you?”

“No, I can tell them I’m working from home. I should be fine. (I hope so.) So, is this spontaneity something that gets you points?”

“Points for what?” He looked at me curiously.

“Points with the chicks. I mean, lets drive here or go here, does that work with the girls?”

“I don’t know. Seems to be working now.”

“Only because I love Cajun food.”

“Good! Cause you’re buying.”

“Sho you’re right!”

So, I was already in victim mode and I didn’t even know it. He was so sweet, opening doors and listening to me talk about my childhood and things I wanted to accomplish in life. He didn’t judge or cut me off. He waited for my sentences to finish and then he would chime in with his own account of his life and things he wanted to do. He let his hand touch mine a couple times, and eventually he let his hand sit on my left thigh. I didn’t even try to move it once. His hand was soft and warm. His nails, beautiful. They weren’t too low or booty diggers as I like to call them. That’s when the nail on a finger is damn near down to the cuticle. His fingers weren’t too long in length and his nails were perfectly even. He had no scars like I did.

“So why aren’t you married, sir?”

“I just got out of a relationship. It’s complicated. I think we just needed to part ways.”

“How long were you together?”

“Since we were in high school.” I listened for any indication of heartbreak in Miles’s voice.

“Damn! That’s a long time.”

“Ain’t it though? Even harder when the time comes to move on.”

“Who ended it?” And is she in Philly?

“Is that important?” Here’s the bullshit.

I wouldn’t ask.”

“She did.”

Yayyyy Taco Tuesday!!

Or as I like to think of it,  #TequilaTuesday.   I’ve always enjoyed the taste of tequila, the excitement of downing shots as if there is no tomorrow. My girlfriends and I accepting the challenge of going brave or going home. My favorite is Herraduras. It’s something about how smooth it goes down. My teacher swore by it and I have to agree. That tequila has definitely got me into trouble… (cue the sparkle once upon a time sounds)

Well, here we were, Taco Tuesday. I was about three shots down when in walks my muse with his friends. A couple of them had on wedding bands. Chocolate Boy Wonder, was a god at the time turned demon and my now ex.  Although I don’t know if I can classify him as an ex per se.  A smash? A F#&k buddy? Bro? LOL You know there are simple rules to bar-tending. Know your liquors, make everyone feel like they’re special and DON’T (try not to) fuck the help. I got two out of three and a hard effort was put in. Gotta love my choice of words. So back to the man whose cock is imprinted on my soul. In he walked reminding me of Morris Chestnut in the movie Best Man.  I could’ve swore I even heard the Roots playing in the background. I didn’t know it the first time I met him, but this guy was the secret weapon in destroying my life.

The first time he came to my bar, I was nervous and not because I was fresh in. I had already gotten past the awkward breaking glass stage. It’s just that I had been out many times in Houston and had yet to see someone this fine without any hiccups. My definition of a hiccup? I’m glad you asked. Unemployment, a bm, a wife, a child, a children, a girlfriend or boyfriend, a fiance, or a “friend” which if you heard the Biz Markie song, you know it’s bullshit. There seemed to be a lot of “friend” relationships out here.  These women and men agree to a smash buddy union and have a great relationships in the bedroom. They go out on “friend dates” and if they get approached while out, they are allowed to give and or get the number in front of the other person as if they both wasn’t planning on having each other’s genitals in their mouth as soon as they get to their destination. I guess it’s exciting. You get jealous. You get angry. By the time you get to his house or hers, you’re ready to show them why they should delete that number or block whoever. It was the new wave of confusion that some welcomed because it was consistent and the closest thing to a relationship. I think this type of bullshit was dubbed “situationship“. According to, a situationship is a relationship that has no label on it., like a friendship but more than a friendship but not quite a relationship. I’m going somewhere with this.

Anyway, I pretended to wipe glasses down and check my well. I needed anything to look like I wasn’t salivating over Chocolate Boy Wonder, but I didn’t want to look so busy that I wasn’t available. I still had a job to do and lusting after a dude wasn’t going to get these schools loans paid down. #Coins  We locked eyes and part of me was thinking of customer service and the other part was thinking tip, not money at all though.

“Two vodka lemonades and two orders of street tacos. Jalapenos on the side.” Jolted straight out of my vagina’s control, my regular placed his order. Same order, different date. He’s also cute. Great tipper. Loves Taco Tuesdays. I’ve never seen him on a date with the same woman. “I’ll have that right out for you, Jess.” I turn to get the glasses ready. Fill with ice, vodka, count it out, lemonade made by the house, shake, pour in glass. I placed his drinks down with coasters underneath.  Jess hands me the card to open up the tab. I head to the register then hand it back.

Chocolate Boy Wonder and his friends chose a table that wasn’t close to me.  He looked at me and smiled. Molly was already on it. I couldn’t stand her ass. She’s a cutie and knew it. She bounced around and wore a high ponytail that matched her rhythm when she’s glided on the floor.  There was a bunch of  people there. Girls darting eyes at every fresh piece of eggplant that walked in. They had a good amount to choose from so my dude was off limits, but of course their eyes were fixated on his table. That was our busy night fresh into the week. On Tuesdays people are getting over the shock of manic Monday and accepting that there are two things that can help you get over a drab beginning of a work week.

Molly comes with the order. “Someone is interested in you.” My ears perked.

“Who?” Please don’t let it be anyone but him.

“The cute guy sitting with his friend.”

“Which one Molly? Kind of more than one there, you know.”

“The one with the grey button up.” Score!

“He’s okay.” Lies help people from being in your business. “Well, let’s see if he shoots his shot.”

“You’re probably going to act like you’re not interested anyway. You know how you like to stop them before they can enter.”

“Yea, not really interested in wasting my walls on people I can’t build with.”  I know you have no problem with that I think. I tried to hide the sly grin but I’m no actress.

“I get it. But all the cute ones that come in here try and fail with you.”

“I don’t think this one will. Something feels different.”

Girls are bold here. Surprising for me at first, but nowadays women shoot their shot. I don’t. I liked to be pursued. I give off hints, little clues.  I act shy, innocent on some days. Other days I can be a complete savage wasting no time and going after what I want. That night I felt like it would be the perfect time to. It was late and Chocolate Boy Wonder and his friends had been hit on all night. The chicks even bought them a round. He and the crew he came with get up and get ready to leave. Some are alone. I can’t tell if he is. It’s a crowd of both girls and guys, no even number and no one locked in arms. I could’ve assumed, but I chose not to. He comes to the bar, hands me a tip and his business card.  I read it. His name is Miles Hansom. He is a Senior Project Manager at a construction company in Houston.

“Text me your number.” Ummmm, yeah dude, who do you think I am?

“So, I’m not sensing southern gentleman. You hand me a card and tell me text you. Where’s the formal introduction? Where are your manners?” I pretend to want to give the card back.

“You’re right. I apologize. My name is Miles. I would like to make sure you get home safely. What time do you close?”

“Yo, Miles. We’ll be outside.” Great! That means anyone that thought she was going to leave with him is mistaken.

“Eleven fifteen.” He looks at his watch. Good taste.

“I guess I’ll be right outside. So, twenty minutes and you’re all mine?”

“Cute.” Hopefully I thought. “Twenty minutes and we see what happens.”

“Cool. What’s your name?”

“Molly told you, I’m sure. I’ll see you in nineteen minutes. Miles.”


… And so it starts

Here I am. Where should I start? I’m young, mid 30’s. I should have my CPA chartering accounts somewhere for a gigantic corporation, receiving spot and annual bonuses of 100k and better, but no. I work as an accountant for a company that does great in revenue but I don’t get nowhere close to 100k in bonuses. Shit, I barely get ten percent of my annual salary.  My mother is proud of me though, most of the time. I mean, I barely hear the disappointment in her voice when we speak. “No, Mom. I haven’t gotten a boyfriend yet.” Because I want a MAN! “No, Mom. You have to actually have sex to get pregnant. Sorry but let’s hold off on the baby talk for now.” Besides, I don’t think my hand or fingers or stupid bullet has that capability. “I don’t know, Mom. I mean marriage is cool.” But then again, how long did yours and last?  “I’m just waiting on God to send the right one.” And when I say the RIGHT ONE, I mean one that won’t have me auditioning for the next episode of Snapped. You see, I don’t think she gets it. It seems like these men want to be envied for disrespecting the women they are with, as if being faithful and loving one person is wrong on levels that God couldn’t comprehend. ESPECIALLY with social media today. These men will have you shopping on Instagram with them and here you are thinking OMG he loves me, when in reality it’s  just so he market himself as a man that takes care of the woman he’s with. That brings in a bunch of chicks. DM’s LIT! Yeah, it’s presumptuous on their part, but sadly it works for his. I’d rather be alone. “Are you sure you’re not a gay?” No, Mom. Well, that depends on drink… which brings us here. As I mentioned, I bartend, which she doesn’t know and I won’t volunteer that information either. She just needs to know I can pay a bill if she needs me to and that I’m not stripping or escorting, not yet anyway. I’ve been propositioned though, couple of times. But no, pussy not for sale. But I’ve seen my share of shit. You guys should grab a drink. This should be fun….

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