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Changing Names by Apple Brown Betty

2008 was a long and not so great year; a lot of the years have been looking that way for a while, well in reference to relationships. So when 2009 came around I wished and hoped and prayed for something different; and that’s what I got.

A few days into the New Year 2009, I attended a party of this older gentleman who was courting me as his trophy wife (but that’s another story). As my friends and I arrived to the venue, I debated whether or not I wanted to let him know I was there; I mean my home girl was in town and  I wanted to her to have a good time.

As we joined the line a group of guys were on line and offered us some passes. I was happy and took that as a sign not to hit up Grandpa. The guy that handed me my pass was cute; he gave me that pass and that million dollar smile and I was like AOOOWWWW he is getting at least two dances tonight.

Fast forward to later on in the evening, my friends and I found ourselves in VIP, with no bottle service, lol; right across from my Pass Boo who clearly came out to drink that night. He toasts me with he glass of Henny and offers me a glass, from across the room. I declined and continued to have a good time with my friends.

(I am totally not into coming to you homie, you come to me!)

While dancing and enjoying myself in VIP with my friends, and no bottle service across from my Pass Boo, (who has been watching me ALL night), here comes Grandpa.

(This is the older guy that wants me to be the PYT (pretty young thing) on his arm, at his events.)

Grandpa, gets bottle service and invades my table with his liquor, ice and juice. He offers drinks to my friends and I. I decline, but my friends help themselves.

He’s asking me: ‘Why I don’t call him?’ and ‘Why I didn’t tell him I was going to be here?’ and ‘What he would have set up for me if I did’, blah blah blah. I cut the convo with him short and took a walk. Pass boo sees this as his opportunity.

Pass boo: I see you’re popular with the guys. Why are you turning everyone down?

Me: Because I can.

We then proceed to talk; he tells me that he is in the army and may have to leave to Iraq when he goes back to base in a couple days.

I look at him funny, thinking: “Dude, you trying to have sex with me before you so call go off to war, WTF ever”.

I suppose he sees the disgust in my face and cleans it up by saying that we will be getting to know each other via the internet. He then tells me his age, he is younger than me OMG and I thought this guy was older than I was. He thought I was younger than him. He was very mature and a gentleman even in his posture, which must have been the army in him.

We exchanged numbers and Pass Boo becomes Solider Boy.

Solider boy and I spoke everyday. It turns out he wasn’t going away, (Sign number 1). He called to wake me up every morning and called dinner time, like clock work. He was cool, and predictable which was a pleasant departure from the normal “mysterious” guy.

I find out he has a child; I like kids so it is not a deal breaker for me. But his son was only 5 months; yes 5 months! This child is fresh out the womb.

So of course my question was: ‘Where is your baby mother?

Solider boy now BabyMamaDrama, replies: ‘She is not in the picture. She and I were just friends who had sex and she ended up pregnant. She wanted to keep it and I’m taking care of my child. I love my son.’

Me:  Well you must also love the women that gave him to you.

BabyMamaDrama: No she and I were and still are just friends

Me: You live with her?

BabyMamaDrama: I live with my brother

Me: You live with her?

BabyMamaDrama: No

Me: Hmpf

I cut the convo short because, he and I had been talking on the phone for a while and he never mentioned the child. You love your son so much you forget him.?!?!

I stop taking his calls for a week or so deciding if I hould even bother entertaining him. Then he leaves a message telling me that he will be in NY/NJ area that weekend, he was based in Maryland, and if I would meet him for dinner. Of course I said yes. (I love my belly,J!)

So, I pick him up from Penn Station and he was looking all good in his fatigues, that damn uniform. (This was actually our second date; first date was food, talking, laughing, and his friends). . He changes his clothes in my car, because he clearly wanted me to see him in his uniform, since I hadn’t in the 2 months I’ve “known” him, and we get some dinner at this restaurant in flat iron.

Dinner was nice, food was good, conversation was flowing well, dessert and hot beverages. After dinner he’s tells me that he wants to spend some time with me, I laugh and say you can see me tomorrow.

BabyMamaDrama: No I want to spend to night with you, I mean not like that; I think we need to talk

Me: (While looking at him funny) Well it’s late and nothing is open where we can have a private conversation, short of my car.

BabyMamaDrama: Fine let’s go to my house

Me: Please I am not going to Jersey

BabyMamaDrama: Fine let’s go to a hotel, that way I don’t have to go to Jersey in the middle of the night

Me: As long as you know, I’m not having sex with you. I’ll fine.

We get to one of the newer mid-block hotels in mid-town and get a room. We go up to the room and we begin to talk about why he lied, by omission, about having a child. The conversation was me sitting on the night table and him sitting on the bed. While pleading for me to understand that he likes me and didn’t know how I would take him having a child that was so young. And I softened up a little, just enough for him to see the window of opportunity to kiss me. And oh did he kiss me, of course I fought him to stop at first, I was still mad at him. But he was persistent and I eventually gave into his juicy lips.

All of a sudden I was on the bed; I don’t know how I got there, lol. He was all over me; it was getting to be too much for me. I had to stop it. I wasn’t comfortable with his situation and knew I would regret it if anything happened. He pleaded of course, please just let it happen, I’m “ready”.  I just got off the bed and sat at the desk for a while thinking to myself, how do these jerks find me.

He comes over to the desk and asks me politely; can you at least lie in the bed next to me, I’ll leave you alone.

I told BabyMamaDrama that if he tried anything he would regret it. I had already made up my mind about him. I lay next to him and he keeps looking at me, so I turn my back to him, he spoons me for a little and says, “I come home to see you and you treat me like this? You can’t even look at me? I could have gone home to my WIFE”.

My reaction: your ….? Speechless. I put on my shoes and coat and leave!!!! Thinking OMG, I’M THE OTHER WOMAN!

I delete him out of my life, well my social networking life.

Of course he calls (he better). He calls and calls and calls. When I finally decide to call back, I don’t get him. Realized that he has left for Germany after reading his short email. I didn’t respond.

After a few months, he sends me a friend request on Facebook. I accepted, but after a while, I deleted him again. I don’t need an extra jerk in my life.



The Actor by V

I normally do not mix business with pleasure. But when curiosity gets the best of you: “What the hell?”

I meet a lot of high end people where I work. The Actor wasn’t necessarily a celeb, he had worked and for some reason, he just had a spark to him. I meet a lot of actors and usually have no interest, but for some reason, there was a vibe.

I asked, “Are you from New York?”

He said, “Yea, how’d you know?”

“Because I’m that good.”

He told me he was born in Israel and that he grew up on the Upper East Side. Before he left, he went up to me to shake my hand, “A pleasure to meet you.”

Whether he kissed my a** to get closer to the Casting people or he thought I was cute, we became Facebook buddies. I threw out the invite to drinks, but only because I was being network-y… (okay fine, I was opening the door).

We met up at this bar in Hollywood. I was trying to keep it professional. I thought it would be weird, but he was actually really good about keeping the tone. With a drink in hand, he grabbed me a beer from the bar as we sat down and shot around industry blah blah blah. Then of course, he mentioned this movie he was writing and how he was trying to get it produced.


But he was charismatic as hell. So when he said he was selfish and vain and not a very good boyfriend, I knew the only other thing he was after besides kissing my a** , was getting some a**.

But, “What the hell?”

So when he asked me if I wanted to go to his apartment, I paused for a moment and thought long and hard before I said, “Yeah,”

I was also drunk, so that might have aided in my decision making. I had him drive my car down the street to his place (ha, he had that all set up, the bar was on the same street).

His place was immaculately clean and really nice. I was jealous.

We sat and talked for awhile on the couch.

“So do you ask every actor at work to drinks?” He asked.

“No.” I responded.

“As long as you know I expect sex.”

I laughed. I knew he wasn’t joking.

He finally ponied up and made the first move. He was one of the best kissers I ever had. I made out with him and got his shirt off. He might have been skinny, but his body was cut really nicely. Then he got my shirt off.

It was getting hot. And then I couldn’t resist, I pulled out his …

It was really nice. Really well kept. I couldn’t help myself.

I knew even though I wanted to, I couldn’t have sex with him. It would just mess me up too much. He complimented me on my “skills” and then we cuddled as he repeated that he was selfish and vain and not a very good boyfriend. I nodded my head, “Uh-huh.”

After I went to the restroom to put myself back together, I came out to find that he had a little star machine that reflected the entire universe on his ceiling, as I lied on my back and looked up. It was a nice moment.

As I left the apartment, there was no talk of a next time, he kissed me and called me “Darling.” Ugh. And even worse,  he saw the disappointment on my face.

He asked that I text him to tell him I got home safe. I did and haven’t seen him since… except on television.


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I Got a Spot by Lady Bk Alde

I teach dance, and men who are around always try to find a way to get a date.

I was teaching a group of JHS boys on the weekends, and their older cousin was always around. After about 2 months of watching me come and go he finally asked me out.  Now, he was very cute, nice dark skin, nice white teeth, nice swagger, the only reason why I hesitated was because he was pocket size…bite size… me….I’m 5’7, and the minute you are 2 or more inches under that and I can put you in a tea cup, we have problems…but even though he was purse size, I decided a date would do because he was cute, cute, cute, so why not.

First thing that goes wrong-he picks me up about 20 minutes late. I get on him a little bit but let it go, and after a few minutes of joking and talking he is still cute, he’s actually funny, but it hits me-he has no plans.

So whatchu wanna do?” He says.

“Well what did you have planned?’

“You know I was thinking we could chill or somethin, I got a spot”

Silence.  Now—- I am glaring at him, I am sitting in the passenger’s seat looking at him because I think if I look at him long enough he will be able to pluck an idea out of my brain, and….it works I guess because he speaks.

“Lemme make a stop by my cousin’s real quick to pick something up.”

I tell him ok, hoping he will pick up some date ideas while he’s at it. He pulls up to his cousins and hops out.

Ummmm can someone please tell me why this grown ass man is sitting on a pillow?!  Not a pillow I can ignore or one that blends in either, it’s a smurf character pillow; she was blue and white and had on a yellow dress.  My eyes are stuck on this blaring highlight of his height deficiency and I’m reminded now ONCE AGAIN as to how mini my mini date is- I’m also reminded I’m wearing heels so my 5’7 is at least a good 5’9 now. I sigh, suck it up and busy myself on twitter.  At least his truck is big. In about 5 or so minutes he comes up to my window

“Ay yo, my cousin says we can have a drink by him and watch the game”

Is he out of his mind? I am immediately thinking “Victim” No my ass will NOT be going to you (STRANGER) and your cousins (2nd STRANGER) to “drink and watch the game” or in the words I heard -get rufeed and raped.  So I tell him:

“You can jog right back inside and tell your cousin plans have changed” and I even throw in a smile at the end because I am coming back home in one piece and if this nucka tries ANNNNYYYTTHHIIINGGG he knows he’s gonna get jacked up (and yes, that smile said it all).

So he moves his tiny legs as quick as he can (and you know the shorter they come the smaller the strides so let’s give him a moment) and hustles back in to tell his cousin the rapist the bad news.

10 minutes later he hops back in the car (on top of that dumb ass pillow) smelling like he swam through a field of weed, eyes so glossy I was able to touch up my lipstick while looking in them. The scent is so damn thick I have to open my window, so no ignoring the obvious; I used my hands, cleared the smoke and asked

“So….you smoke”

 “Not that much, only on occasion.”

“Going on a date with me must be one of the special ones then!”

He laughs, he actually cracks up and I let it go because I know he’s been influenced by more than my humor.

 “So sweety you hungry, you wanna get some food?”

Now I’m starving, and I don’t play that “I’m too cute to eat when I’m on a date stuff- we both already know I’m cute that’s why I am here. So YES, I am starving-but at least I don’t respond the way I’m thinking. So I just simply say

“I could eat”

“Well whatchu like?”

“Anything, I’m not too picky.”

“Aight I know some spots.”

So now I’m excited, I am ready for our real date to start, after an hour of nonsense we are finally about to get this thing going, like for real started…

PLEASE TELL ME WHY….we end up driving on Flatbush and this N*cka pulls up in front of a JERK CHICKEN SPOT.

So… this date is pretty much done but I can’t walk away, I’m not scared I’m intrigued that a dude might actually think he may be doing a good job on this one.  I’m a pretty free spirit so I’m going to go with the flow of it, but yes-this date is done and it is official we are just friends.

I put in my order for chicken & veggies (the carbs are murder so of course no rice) he hops off the pillow and out the car and goes inside.

Again, me & my homie smurfette are just sitting there looking stupid and I’m thinking “this n*cka got me, I should have just come out in flip flops and my hair wrapped.”

He comes back to the car with the food.

 “Where we going to eat this?”

“I know a spot.”

My head fell onto my shoulder so fast I couldn’t even help it-not this again; we already know how his last spot went. Now at the time I was a tweeting fanatic so all my followers already knew I was in the car with a weed smoking midget who may or may not be balanced, so I didn’t fear for my safety too much. I was fine with eating this at his house because again, twitter.

We pull a little further down Flatbush…off of Church Avenue

(Note for the non Brooklynites: Flatbush & Church avenue are the melting pots of West Indians and violent activity-not saying they go together…. they just go together on Flatbush & Church Avenues-Straight hood!)

As we drive further down he pulls into….. a parking lot.


I am sitting in front of  Graffiti Jay Z, Biggie, Martin Luther King and other random a$$ African Americans who are a part of this mural of nonsense, you know, one of the murals that just has all the black people in the world who ever existed just because every “hood” needs one. I started to tear.

No, not because I was crying, but because he had opened the Jerk Chicken and the pepper was so strong it started to irritate my eyes. I ask him to crack a window.

“So…where do you live, where’s your apartment?” Now he finds this question absolutely hysterical and after damn near choking mumbles

“Yea you know I gets around, I stay on the go so you know.”

Yeah I know that ish means no your ass does not have a place to live and you’re staying in someone’s basement. I had pretty much lost my appetite at this point and was just waiting patiently to go home.

“Why you not eating?”

“I’m good, just tired now.”

“Nah…I wanna see you eat.” He stops eating and watches me.

Awkward silence because now I’m thinking he’s a foodie, you know, one of those guys who likes to watch women eat because it turns them on.

“I’m good, I’m not that hungry right now.”

“What you watching your figure, sorority girls don’t eat? I wanna see you eat, so eat.”

As I sit and begin to nibble my jerk chicken and cabbage, I pray to the graffiti Rosa Parks in front of me to deliver me from my misery. After about 20 minutes he wraps up my leftovers, puts them in the bag and offers to take me home. He drops me off and hands me my bag of leftover chicken skin & bones and I tell him thank you and goodbye.

The next few days he tries reaching out to me and I text him

I’m good, we can just be cool

His response:

Just wait till I tell my cousins about this and how you treatin me!

Yes, this dude actually said he would tell on me. Smdh.  

This guy was obviously a waste of energy and I learned never to F* with a student’s family again-this is why you don’t sh* where you eat!

 But even though my pocket size date turned out to be a loser, all was not lost- thanks to him I got me a new Jerk chicken spot! Thanks homie!!!


Lady Bk Alde



The Cynic by V

5 Signs You’re in F**kbuddydom


Sign #1: He will contact you out of nowhere.

Sign #2: You feel like a hooker.

Sign #3: No sleeping over.

Sign #4: His texts virtually consist of “Hi”.

Sign #5: Weeks, even months pass before you receive communication from him.


I met The Cynic right after some friend with benefits emotional disaster, another fiasco with another guy. I was trying to reprogram my monogamous female brain to “clean my pipes” because the fact was this: I needed to move on and I needed to get laid. Simple.

I was 25, working for the corporate man, 55 hours a week and living in Los Angeles. In short, I wasn’t meeting ANYBODY. The truth was I wanted a connection more than anything, a relationship with a man who cared for me and I cared about back.

Well Cynic… was not this man.

I had met Cynic via and I knew we had absolutely nothing in common. His photos showed he was super cute but he liked music like Neil Diamond, Live and 90’s gangsta rap. Live and 90’s gangsta I could identify with… but Neil Diamond? Folksy music? Um, really? You’re 26 and you like Folk?

I met Cynic at a Starbucks in Sherman Oaks. We had been texting back and forth after I suggested we meet the same day after we spoke on IM.

Finally, he just called me to confirm plans and… his voice was hot, “V?”

“Yeah, hi, sorry, I was just texting you back, I’m driving.”

“That’s why I called, figured it would be faster, you’re a fast texter though.”

“That’s why I went to NYU, right?”

He sounded like he was from the Valley, like me. Valley boys are a special breed. They’ve got that Sean Penn, Spicoli from Fast Times slight surfer drawl in their voice. In short, they are never ever good for me. Ever.

I sat waiting at the Starbucks. I didn’t want to buy anything and wanted to see if he would offer. This is a test: Is this guy going to try to use me for sex and never buy me dinner? A man paying is a sign that he is willing to invest, emotionally.

This too, never happened.

Cynic showed up, apologized that he was late and then excused himself because he ran into a professor from his law school that he was attending.

Then he came back and said, “Sorry, he’s my professor and I just had to ask him something really quickly.”

“Oh, it’s totally fine.” I actually really didn’t care all that much.

“Are you getting anything?”

“Um, no, you?”


 I looked at Cynic’s eyes which were totally red. Cynic was a total stoner.

“I usually get very nervous in social situations, so I smoked up beforehand.”

“Well, no need to be nervous with me.”

Cynic also explained that he was in remission from cancer. WTF. He had cancer?! He’s 26! Lymphoma? What?!

Let me sum up the conversation here, he’s an introvert. I’m an extrovert. He’s a perv. I’m just sexual. He likes Neil Diamond. I don’t. Yet, when the conversation turned to sex, turned out I was attracted to the guy and he was attracted back. Figures.

He walked me to my car, we hugged and I figured I would never ever see him again.

That’s when I got an IM from him the following day:


Cynic: Hey indie rocker chick

(second to think if I should respond)

V: Hey Neil Diamond lover

Cynic: So would you be interested in meeting my brother?

V: Huh????????????

Cynic: Well, I think you might hit it off. He’s a nice guy.

V: Um, didn’t I just go out with you. Isn’t that weird?

Cynic: Well if you have someone for me then it’s not.

V: I might, but most of my friends are taken. Why would you try to set me up with your brother?

Cynic: Well, I like you.

Cynic’s points clearly plummeted and I didn’t really converse with him further. Till one night in December, during the holidays I was sitting home alone and he IM’d me again, but this time to come over.


Sign #1: He will contact you out of nowhere.

Uh-oh. You know what this means. He wants to have sex. Did I really want to do that? He could be dirty; seriously, I mean STD’s, etc. He had already explained he had his share of chicks at UCSB.

He lived with his parents and they were out of town. I lived with my parents and they were going to be home soon. (Don’t judge, this was a super bad economy, don’t you wish you could live with your parents too?)

I had driven all the way to Woodland Hills at 8PM on a Friday because I had nothing better to do and when I arrived he greeted me and he looked seriously hot. He had actually made an effort to look good. I sat in his kitchen while he offered me some food and tossed some frozen pizza into his toaster oven. He tried to entertain me and had this seriously charming smile. I fell for it.

We hung out in his room. Chit Chatted. He smoked. I did not. Things escalated. Next thing I know I have to stop things before we actually do have sex. This is the second time we have met and even I can’t go that far so soon. I do the “Have you been tested? Wear Condoms?” Q&A and make sure everyone is on the same page. He let me know there are a couple other girls that are in his circle, but that he’s not really looking for anything serious.

I turn on my side and nod my head, “Uh-huh, I get it, I get it.”

He had zero relationship potential, but if he was as good as he said he was, he could flush out the memory of my dreaded friend with benefits and quite frankly, rock my body.

The next time I came over, we did have sex. And he was as good as he promised. He didn’t like his neck kissed or making out in general.


Sign #2: I felt like a hooker.

After he got his, he went into detachment guy mode and got weird on me. Typical. He suggested we take a shower and it was the most awkward shower I had ever taken. We weren’t doing anything and there was nothing to really talk about. I was still drunk and since I do not drive in that state, I hung out at his place till 2PM till I hustled on home.


Sign #3: No sleeping over.

“Hi” is the official booty call text that opens the door to coming over, providing booty and then leaving. I started to ignore him. If he wants me, he can call.


Sign #4: His texts virtually consists of “Hi”. 

Time passed and then I was at work getting a call from my Dad telling me that my mother was in a car accident, “A bad one.” In that moment, I didn’t care about anyone or anything, my mind flipped and like a little girl, I started crying, in my corporate work fortress that never permitted real emotion. I raced to the hospital at 90 miles an hour to find my mom on a board, with a neck brace because some bastard t-boned her into a telephone pole and she had to be pulled out with the Jaws of Life. My mother was stable, but it was obvious he had done damage. After all the tests and X-rays, she had a pneumothorax in her left lung, fractures in her pelvic region and in the sides of her vertebrae in her lower lumbar region.

And suddenly I was my mother, making sure she was getting the proper care, getting her things, informing family members, staying with her to make sure the hospital didn’t kill her.  While they were moving my mom to a different wing at the hospital, I checked my phone and found a text from Cynic, “Hey V, who’s on your IM?”


Sign #5: Weeks, even months pass before you receive communication from him.

‘Shoot,’ I left that on at work and some silly temp responded.

 V: I’m at the hospital; my mom was in an accident.

 Cynic: Sorry to hear that kiddo.

 I didn’t really care about Cynic at this moment or the fact that he had ditched me after having sex. At this moment, I was completely numb. I texted him and asked him if he wanted to meet and smoke. I never smoke.

He texted me back and we decided to meet at… the mall. When I saw him, I didn’t expect him to be affectionate. But he greeted me with a hug. I was stone cold, flushed out of emotion, but as he held me, I became defenseless… vulnerable.

Then he grabbed my a**.

Afterward, he took me to In N’ Out. He paid.

I didn’t ever really know if Cynic was just a f**k buddy or a real friend.

My Mom, who was hospitalized for a week, thankfully recovered. I never told her about Cynic.


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"Operation Phase Out" by Vodka (Part II)

Date: everything ok?


Me: OMG!!!!!!!!!! I think a family member of my sis-n-law is in the hospital. I gotta go.

Date: Really? Omg, what happened?

Me: Not sure, but I think she needs me though. (By this time I saw the sad look on his face and I couldn’t just leave)


Date: I can take you, I totally understand.


Me: Well, let’s grab a quick bite. As soon as she calls I need to run though.


Date: Oh ok, great, I’ll drive you when she calls.


We get to the restaurant. It took a minute to find a place since he knew nothing about human entertainment! I also wanted a restaurant as close to pitch black as possible. We find one. We park. Get inside & get seated. You know there are those couples that make you stare & question why they are together. Yea, well that was US. I skimmed the menu and decided I would only have the veggies side dish b/c I was ready to consume 3 cocktails and thought I shouldn’t let depression increase my carb intake.

Waitress: Are you guys ready to order? Or do you need a few more minutes?

Me: No! I’m ready. I’d like the Pisco Sour, please! (The spot was Peruvian, so when in Rome!)

Date: I’ll have the chicken. Does that come with potatoes? Oh and a Sprite, please.

Me: You don’t want a cocktail?

Date: No, I don’t drink. I never have. It’s never been my thing.

Me: (with a look of horror) EVER? Why?? Really? OMG!

Waitress: (Looking at me) I’m sorry, are you ready to order your entrée?

Me: I’ll just have the vegetable side dish.

Waitress: just the side dish?

Me: (with what men in my family call the standard look of death all women in my family have) Yes! Just the veggies.


Date: Does that shock you?

Me: Ummm, yea, I mean… know what? Whatever (giggling) I totally understand, that’s cool.

His cell phone rings. Speaks quickly and hangs up.

Me: (thinking who could it be that it was so important to answer during our date) Is everything ok? Do you need to leave?

Date: No, no, not at all. That was just my mom. She knew I was going on a date and just wanted to make sure you weren’t some psycho girl trying to rape me.

Me: (Jaw dropped w/my already empty glass in hand) Are you serious? That was your mom?

Date: yea, she just worries.

Me: (giggling & thinking if this is really happening) Is she ok? Please update her and let her know that I’ve never raped a man. This is a first! I actually need another cocktail. I know you don’t drink, so I hope you don’t get freaked out.

Date: No, not at all. My mom is fine, she just worries, I don’t really go out and if I do it’s not so late.


At this point I heard enough and excuse myself to the ladies room. I take my phone & tell my sis-n-law she should abort my escape plan, I was at dinner & would get myself home. As I’m walking back to my table I see one of my male friends getting takeout! FML! There was no way he wouldn’t have seen me so I had to say hi. I walked past my table as if I hadn’t even been sitting there and went to say hello.

Me: Heeeeeyyyyy!!!!!!!!!! What are you doing around here?

Male friend: hey babe!! I’m getting food (giggling) you know I live around here.

Me: Right! Oh, good, good.

Male friend: Who are you with?

Me: Me? Oh, well (whispering) I’m with a guy friend. He just broke up with his gf and really needed to get out, so I felt bad. Anyway, let’s do wine soon!

Male friend: yes, def, my place, we haven’t hung out in a while.

Me: Great! Nice seeing you.


I walk back to my drink date.


Date: Hey, everything ok?

Me: yea, that’s just a good friend. I forgot he lived around here. Omg, I’m so tired. Is it ok if we leave?

Date: Really? Oh, ok. Should I drive you to the hospital?

Me: No, just home. I haven’t heard from her, I’m sure everything is fine.


We get to my block and as he pulls up to my house I see my neighbors out!

Me: Omg, please leave me at the corner and there’s no need to walk me to my door.

Date: (laughing) what happened? You ok?

Me: Yes! I’m fine. Well, my neighbors are out and well the last thing I want is for them to see me with a guy. I don’t want them to think I’m promiscuous. (As I think to myself, the online dating souls standing outside already hate me b/c they’ve witnessed a fair amount of visitors) 

Date: oh, ok. I understand. People are always nosey.

Me: Ugh I know. Ok, well, thank you so much. It was great catching up. (I jump out of the seat and head to my apartment w/out leaving any time for small talk).


In reality I could care less what my neighbors think but this guy just didn’t meet my usual standards and that made me uncomfortable. I get upstairs and regret not having a 3rd drink b/c this was one for the records! I update my mom, friend & sis-n-law and during this I get a text from him. He was asking if I felt a vibe between us. I thought how someone could be so delusional!!!!!! But respectfully replied the following.

Me: _______, thank you so much for the date. The show was amazing. You are very nice but I am not at a place in my life right now where I feel I should be dating. I’m sure you will find a very nice girl. I’m sorry.

Date: is it b/c you still want to party? I understand. Hopefully we can still be friends. Hearing about you and your events with your friends sounded fun and I thought it’d be fun to hang out with you guys.


I never replied. For those that know me, know that my way of dealing with things is by not dealing with them. Operation Phase Out in full effect. Ladies, always do your research!!


Keep it classy,



For Part I, visit:



"Operation Phase Out" by Vodka (Part I)

Leather Roses

One night I was out in the L.E.S at a new vegan restaurant. Well, I was at the BAR at a new vegan spot; anyway that’s a minor detail. I was sipping on some wine feeling like I was turning a new leaf because there’s no way a “vegan approved” glass of wine can be equal to nursing a bottle of Kettle One or Jameson (my most latest fav poison). As I’m sitting there venting to my girlfriends on how I felt I couldn’t continue my relationship with this Semi-Pro football player I had been dating at the time because he turned out to be a psycho cell phone checking stalker and I feared he wouldn’t have to strain too many muscles to finish me off if he’d caught me glimpse at another man. Anyway, I get an email via Feibu (that’s Spanglish for Facebook for all you snail-like brains). It was from someone whose name seemed some what familiar at the time. My memory of this person was blurry, so I quickly bbm’d a friend. Sorta like what they consider a “Lifeline” on “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire”, except they don’t have a bbm option. She remembered as she remembers everyone! At times like these I’m convinced I wore blinders during my school days and that’s why I only remember a handful of people.


Me:  Hey! Do you remember  ________ from school?


Friend:  Yea, why?

Me:  He just emailed me on FB & practically professed his love 2 me. Not sure if it’s this new vegan wine I’m trying or I actually thought it was sweet.


Friend:  LMAO! Get out! What did he say?

Me:  He wants to have dinner and catch up. Anyway, is he cute or not?? Who did he date? (I was at the bar, therefore, time was precious and only critical questions allowed)

Friend:  Umm he dated ______? He’s not hideous but I don’t think he’s your type. He’s tall!

Me:  Who? I don’t remember her. Is he Latino? His FB pic is not great and I dnt think he has other pics.



Friend:  Yea, he’s like Cuban & Dominican or Puerto Rican, some mix like that. Yea, if you see him you’ll remember. They were that clingy who were always together.

Me:  Sounds decent! How can you be ugly with a mix like that? Ugh. Clingy? Well, I guess they are not together and hopefully he got over that phase.


I now reply to his email thanking him for his compliments and being that I always like to be honest, I mention I didn’t remember him at all. He replies confused as to how I could have no recollection of him and asks that we have dinner & wants to know my availability. I had an opening in 2 weeks. He took it with no complaints. Over the 2 wk phone/text conversation exchange I sensed he didn’t go out much. This was an immediate turn off because I like my men to be independent and have their own friends/lives etc. Again, another RED FLAG I chose to overlook. In my defense, we are in a recession! And I really wanted the see “In the Heights”; it’s the show he chose for our upcoming date.


The day of our date arrives and I’m pampering. As standard for all new suitors, I never can decide what to wear! And trust me; I’m at the stores religiously every week as if the status of the economy solely depended on my purchases. Anyway, I chose all black, some hot red heels and hoops, after all it was a Latin show!  Oh, I forgot to mention that he had mentioned he had been doing the “P90x” and I had serious interest in this at the time. I felt this drew our bond closer. I remember thinking “At least he’s fit!” He calls me to tell me he’s downstairs. I go downstairs and there he was….the man that for good reason I couldn’t remember wearing an oversized black leather jacket (not from this century) holding a bouquet of roses FML. I wonder if he saw the look of fear in my eyes as I quickly grabbed the roses and ran upstairs after I strongly suggested he go start the car. I feared my nosey neighbors would see him and I knew this was a date I already wanted to forget. When I got I got back downstairs he was still there! I locked the door and power walked to his car, sunk deep into the passenger seat with my shades on. On our way to the city I confirmed he had no personality and was happy to be on a date.


We get to the city and he chooses a parking lot near my ex’s house. Up to date my ex had never seen me with a guy and I prayed to all the saints that this would not be the day I bump into him. Luckily, my mind works fast and I knew to walk far yet close enough to him that an average person would think we were with a group of friends but yet made him (my date) feel like we were on a date. I made a quick call to my mom hoping that she would sense the uneasy tone in my voice, get my drift and go along with my disappearing act, but she was clueless, so I quickly hung up. We entered the show and my fear became reality. We had 2nd row seats, which meant he overpaid and now I couldn’t possibly have the heart to run out during Intermission. I kept my jacket on; I clearly overdressed for him and didn’t want him to think I was trying to seduce him in any way. The show was great! I thanked him for taking me. As we walked to the parking lot he suggested “Olive Garden” or “The ESPN Zone” for dinner! WTF! Why??! I frantically said “No! I’m really tired. I have to be at work early, let’s just get something in Brooklyn”. So, now I’m on what felt like the longest ride ever and (even though he took the tunnel) I continue to be my usual chatter box self and keep the conversation alive, if even possible.

Me:  So, what do you do for a living again? (I really couldn’t care less but I needed something to keep him talking)

Date:  Right now I’m a school safety officer and at night I have a side gig for a company my dad works for and drive some specimens to a lab. But my dream has always been to be a singer. I started singing back in HS and I have a friend in the music industry who said can help.

Me:  Like a rapper?

Date:  Nah, like R&B but I only want to write, I don’t want to be famous.

Me:  (at this moment we are at a red light and I seriously considered opening the door and throwing myself) Oooh, so you rather not be in the spotlight? Yea, I can see why you wouldn’t want to be. (At this point I bbm my sis-n-law and tell her I need to escape immediately. That she should pick me up at Lutheran Hospital. It wasn’t the closest, but I was born there, so maybe I just feel safe there!)

My phone rings. It’s my sis-n-law putting my “Operation Phase Out” plan in immediate action.

Stay Tuned For Part II of “Operation Phase Out” by Vodka, Next Friday…On Guest Blog Fridays!



The Cable Guy by Dee Calderon (Part II)

“You have a gun?”


“Yeah, I had to get one because I got shot by some punk ass and he kept saying he was coming back for me so I got a burner to protect myself. Wanna see my GSW?”


“Um, sure…” No, I wanna go home! 


So he takes his shirt off…in the restaurant…and shows me the gunshot wound on his shoulder. And I don’t know why I keep humoring him with these questions, because really, I just want to go home…


“And your ex called the cops on you? Why would she do that?”

Hoping he would say something a little less shocking…


“We had an argument and I broke her door down – ‘cause I will NEVER hit a woman”


At this point, I have nothing to say. My face says it all. It says:




Only to him, my face says: “I WANT YOU”.


So he reaches across the table to hold my hand and he tells me something that to this day makes me want to vomit…


“You are such a beautiful woman. You have a delicious body and I feel mad lucky to be out with you right now”.


I pull my hand away and check the time, “Thank you so much! Um. I hate to have to end this, but um, I gotta get up early for work tomorrow…so can we wrap this up?”


“Oh hell yeah, I gotta get up early too. I got group tomorrow?”


“Group?” Oh god, what the fuck?


“Yeah. The court mandated me to take anger management”




The rest of the conversation is a blur as I try to predict where this horrible date can go… but as we get into the car and head back to my neighborhood he doesn’t say much… and it’s got me thinking that maybe he’s planning on how he’s going to make a move me. 

He pulls up to my apartment building and I’ve already gotten my seatbelt undone. As I turn to thank him for dinner and run out of the mini van, he’s already unbuckled and kneeling beside me, his face centimeters away from mine. I can feel his beefy breath on my lips.


“I had a great time with you. When can I see you again?”


And before I could answer, he jams his tongue down my throat and holds my face so I cant run away. His body is pressed up against me as I start to feel him dry humping me in my chair…I’m being kissed against my will and I’m pressed up against the door trying to get as far away from his humping as I can… and then I finally break free.


I jump out of the van and run saying, “THANK YOU!” 


He runs after me and catches up to me, “When can I see you again?”




And because I can’t think of anything but the gun he has, I say “Tomorrow” so I can think of a way to dump him then…


I spent the next day making up the perfect excuse for him to not want anything to do with me. And at dinner the following day I run with it.


“So, do you normally pick up women when you go to install their cable. Because now that I think about this… it makes me VERY JEALOUS…”


“Do YOU go around dating every man that comes into your apartment to do a service?”


FUCK. That didn’t work. Now onto plan B.


“[Cable guy] you deserve to know…I’m still in love with my ex. And I am no good to anyone right now. I can’t be in a relationship right now. My heart is still broken”


He reaches across the table and grabs my hand, “I’m so sorry he hurt you. But you don’t have to worry… ‘cause I’m here to fix that broken heart”.


DOUBLE Fuck. This guy is relentless.  Now I know what all my ex boyfriends felt like when they were trying to dump me politely and I kept resisting… this is painful… and pathetic. I went on to talk about my ex in every kind of disturbing scenario that would make me seem like a girl who is not ready to move on.  

And the GUY just WOULDN’T GIVE UP!


So finally it hit me.


The server came over with a glass of wine for him and offered me one.

“Thanks but I can’t drink… I’m pregnant”


He drops his fork and makes the scariest face I have ever seen.


“I really didn’t want to tell you… but it’s my ex’s. And I’m keeping it.”


He finished his food in silence with a look that still haunts me to this very day… And I played up my pregnant clingy role like a pro.


“I don’t think I can be with you if you carry this dude’s kid.”


“What? But I thought you wanted to fix my broken heart!”


And he left me standing there…outside of the restaurant while I faked tears and tried desperately not to laugh.


For Part I, visit 



The Cable Guy by Dee Calderon (Part I)

At the age of 24, I embarked on a new life journey…Moving. My best friend and I found an amazing apartment…in Queens. I knew nothing about Queens or about living on my own. So when my new roommate told me the day after we moved in that I was in charge of setting up the cable and electricity, I jumped on it.

 The very next day, my doorbell rang and two men from Time Warner were there to install my cable. One guy was a really tall middle aged black man. The other was a short and muscular Hispanic man with tattoos and an accent. We made small talk while they installed my cable and halfway through the installation, the Hispanic one started to ask me some questions… and my ignorant ass thought they were standard cable guy installation questions.

“Where are you from?”

“You live here alone?”

“Can you tell me your phone number… for the order form?”

I recited my number and watched him write it down. When they were leaving he asked me if I was interested in getting a tour of my neighborhood sometime. Like any polite person… I said “sure”. And the tiny juicehead skipped out of my apartment.

As I sat on my bed watching my newly installed cable, I got a text message.

 “Hey, its [the Cable guy], Was thinking maybe I could take you out to dinner tonight?”

I was a little surprised by his boldness especially since I did not in fact give HIM my number. And I didn’t really know how to answer… so I did what all single girls do. I used a lifeline and phoned a friend.

 “Pete, what should I do?”

“GET SUM! Free Cable! Do it! Do it! Do it!” (…and this is why sometimes having a male friend is a bad idea)

That evening, I was ready and he arrived to pick me up. He was 20 minutes late but I didn’t mind. I was young, single, and totally open about the possibilities of this date. I am a hopeless romantic after all. When he told me to come downstairs, I was greeted with him standing outside of a mini van. 


All of a sudden my hopeless romantic packed up and let the paranoia take over. I sent my roommate a text letting him know that I officially hated him for telling me to go through with this and that if I wasn’t home by a certain time to call the police with a description of the mini van… and that I would text the plate numbers if I made it out of the van…

Cable guy takes me to a Brazilian steak house, which is essentially an ALL YOU CAN EAT Meat Buffet. Buffets on a first date are a NO NO. But I deal. I watch him eat his weight in beef, chicken, and pork… while I nibble on the one piece of steak that I allowed myself to eat. (It’s nerve-racking to eat in front of a stranger!) And the conversation begins.

“So, whatchu do for a living?” he asks with his mouth full of chewed beef.

“I work for the District Attorney” I vaguely state… no need for him to know the details.

“Wow, that’s really cool… I’ve been to jail a few times”

(Insert jamming breaks sound!)

“I’m sorry? I thought you said you have been to jail…”

“Yeah man, a few times”

I officially want to die.

“Really… why is that COOL?”

“Oh cause, it’s like we part of the same system and stuff…and I know how the DA’s work. They a bunch of assholes man”

Choosing to NOT argue with a man that has done time, I avoid the asshole DA Topic and move on to more pressing matters…

“What did you get locked up for?”

He takes a second to chew what was left in his mouth, swallow, and looks at the ceiling as if the answer to my question lies in the mirrors over my head.

“Well, the first time was ‘cause I punched some guy in the face and broke his nose”

I cut him off.

“Some guy?”

“Yeah, he pushed me on the train and I didn’t like that shit so I turned around and punched him in the face… and I got charged with assault”

“Wow. And what else have you gotten locked up for?” I ask as I sip my water.

Possession. And like a year ago, my ex called the cops on me”

Now, Im choking. “Possession of what?” please don’t say drugs. Please don’t say drugs…

“A Burner” 

A gun! A Mother Fucking GUN!

Stay Tuned For Part II of “The Cable Guy” by Dee Calderon Next Week Friday!