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Stork Pile

I first met “Diddy” during the summer about 2 years ago at his cousin’s house when I had stopped by after a hair cut. Diddy was suave, funny, attractive and talented and seemed to be every bit of a gentleman. Like any woman knows, a man that has all these qualities is more than likely spoken for and I automatically stored him in the friend zone accordingly. Rightfully so, the news came out that he was a new father which added a second to his already existing roster and he was living with the mother of his children. Through conversation, we discovered that we had professional ties so we exchanged information to keep in touch for the purpose of collaborating on projects.

 A couple of days later, Diddy shoots me a message on the fly just asking how I was doing and how I was liking my hair cut since I had reservations about pulling it off. I found this sweet but questioned how friendly it was but figured sending a neutral, humorous reply back would debase any sort of cheekiness that could develop from a seemingly harmless conversation starter. I made a joke about how my new locks were now able to brave the harsh humidity of August days in New York and he took the opportunity to point out how he found me attractive. My mind flashes to screaming kids and crazy baby mamas and I have the instant reflex to shut down the conversation. No reply sent.

About six months later, we run into each other and begin with small talk. I ask about his kids, he asks about my job, nothing short of a bland how’s the weather discussion. Diddy starts to veer off the discussion route, continuously drops compliments here and there and somehow we end up on the topic of dating. He starts to tell me about how he likes to be brutally honest upfront and gets into a story about him being a wingman for one of his boys at a lounge recently. As a wingman, he engages in a conversation with the friend of the girl his boy is trying to pick-up as a means of letting his boy get some one-on-one time with his target of affection. Diddy mentions that it is apparent that the girl he is chatting up is interested in him yet he’s not really interested in her at all but ends up exchanges numbers as a formality.  

While he is recounting this story, I’m wondering where he is going with this and more importantly why he would put himself in that situation since he is still living with his baby mama AND they have yet another addition to the roster premiering 6 months from now.  My concentration jumps back into his story and we now arrive to the part where he decides to give wing-girl a call the next day (yeah I missed why too!). Diddy calls her up and she is excited to hear from him and starts gushing about what a lovely time she had. He immediately lays out his cards and tells her about how he has kids from two different baby mothers and he actually lives with one of them but they have an open relationship. The girl understandably gets mad and asks why he’s being such an asshole for telling her all this. And his response is classic, simple and sadly true: he laughs and says to her, “How does me being honest and letting you know exactly what you choose to get into or not make me an asshole?” To this point, I respect his stance and he is right (even though I do not agree with his policy) but now it has become visibly clear why he told me this story to begin with. He is looking for me to be his Cassie and I know I have no intention of partaking in this open relationship of his with Kim Porter in the wings.

Once again, I turn the conversation to a neutral end about how it’s important for people to be honest about what they are looking for at the beginning of any sort of relationship so there is no deception regarding where things are headed. He agrees and takes it as a further cue to swoop in. As any proud father would do, he pulls up pictures of his genetically blessed kids on his phone and flirtatiously mentions that our kids would look just as great or even better. BREAKS!!!! I have left the Cassie zone and am now in the JLo/Puffy shiny suit era. I laugh off his suggestion with the “oh you’re so crazy!” giggle but I’m thinking, get the hell out of this convo now! We hug and part ways and I am running far away from this suggestion like my uterus depends on it.

Flash forward to now 4 months later, I run into Diddy once again and it’s about a couple of months before Kim is about to deliver their bundle of joy. We do the New York air-kiss and hug and as a joke, he places his hand on my belly and says, “Ok good, was just checking to see that you’re still waiting for me.” Major PAUSE!!! He is indeed after my uterus, I grin but for damn sure will NOT be baring any kids soon!

SMH some men are just in love with spreading their seed.