tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39037468383144440392011-12-12T18:51:05.309-05:00Laugh with me - Laugh at meAngelMamanoreply@blogger.comBlogger31100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3903746838314444039.post-61079939936316434262009-01-13T23:44:00.000-05:002009-01-14T22:08:20.761-05:00<div>Wow - I have blog readers. Yay, me! Can I just say that bearing your soul on the internet is one of the scariest things in the world. I have so much more respect for you bloggers out there.</div><div><br /></div><div>I digress, So here's Part 2...</div><div><br /></div><div>It's so weird how the Universe sends us little clues about the people we let into our inner circle and we don't heed them.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Clue #1:</span> While I'm telling my BFF India about DB she remarks that she knows a guy with the same name. (D has a ghetto ass name with an even more ghetto spelling)</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Clue #2: </span>D has pictures of a woman in his Myspace photos but his relationship status is single.</div><div><br /></div><div>I assume it's a girlfriend but give him the benefit of the doubt and ask him about it. He points out the pictures are hella old and says it's his ex. We end up texting and talking ALL night for weeks. Once we finally get our schedules straight we go out for dinner, movies, drinks, the works. This man is wooing me with a capital W. And I'm liking it.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Clue #3: </span>D is seriously gassing my head up - Telling me how he loved me in college and he's still in love with me now. (???) He also tells me how being with me is what let him know you could actually be happy in a relationship and gave him the courage to end things with his ex.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Clue #4: </span>While we're hanging out I start thinking about how D would probably get along great with India and her boyfriend since we are all so similar.</div><div><br /></div><div>So the next day - India and I are on are way to lunch talking about my date and she mentions  the ghetto name coincidence again.</div><div><br /></div><div>India tells me her D's last name is Wilson... So is mine....</div><div><br /></div><div>I tell India my D went to Morehouse.... So does hers...</div><div><br /></div><div>India tells me her D is a huge pothead... So is mine...</div><div><br /></div><div>I tell India my D has locs... So does hers...</div><div><br /></div><div>And it continues like this for 15 minutes. I then pull up D's myspace page on my phone and lo and behold we are talking about the same man! Turns out D is her boyfriend's BFF. So what's the problem??</div><div><br /></div><div>D is MARRIED! and has been for several years. Turns out the chick on his page is his wife.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile I'm salty because this "nice guy" who I never even thought was that fine played me!!! SERIOUSLY??? He played ME? My bullshit meter is usually super duper sensitive. I have always been able to smell game from a mile away.</div><div><br /></div><div>I think my mistake was judging a book by its cover. He was definitely a wolf in sheep's clothing. I slept on this man because I assumed that because he was the nerdy, clean-cut guy that automatically made him the nice guy.</div><div><br /></div><div>But who does that?? Why would a married man make it a point to search out an ex from almost 10 years ago that he dated for less than a year??? And between you and I, I have THE most common government name in the world. So this man had to have SEARCHED for real.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh well - C'est La Vie. As I always say: Men are like buses; There is always another one coming every 10 minutes.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3903746838314444039-6107993993631643426?l=wannabe57.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>AngelMamanoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3903746838314444039.post-80934663245941676632008-12-25T15:18:00.000-05:002009-01-14T22:06:16.464-05:00I was inspired to start blogging about my "issues" after a recent run in with an old college "friend". I will call him D (for Douchebag).<div><br /></div><div>I can't really call him a boyfriend because when we met in college he was dating someone and I was dating someone. We smoked so much "tobacco" that I really can't remember a lot of the day to day details of our interactions.</div><div><br /></div><div>I do remember he was hella intelligent. Super tall and thought I was the shit. He's not what I would ever call fine but his charm made up for that. We fell hard for one another and spent every waking minute with each other.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Things went bad in college when his girlfriend showed up to his apartment unexpectedly and his roommate let it be known that D was at my house from the night before. She ended up calling my phone and he went back to his house to diffuse the situation.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a really laid back person so I just decided to separate myself from the drama and refused to take his calls after that point.</div><div><br /></div><div>So all this went down 8-9 years ago and then he hit me up on Myspace a couple of weeks ago...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3903746838314444039-8093466324594167663?l=wannabe57.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>AngelMamanoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3903746838314444039.post-89745179057042001552008-12-24T15:08:00.001-05:002009-01-14T21:53:38.894-05:00<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Something about being single and almost 30 just eats away at your soul. Maybe it's just me but the closer I get to 30 the more I wonder if I am going to be single forever.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And then I read this shit: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Forty-three percent of black women in America have never been married, compared with 23 percent of white women"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Wow. I am a damn statistic.... and since I already am a single/unwed mother this means I am fast approaching stereotype status.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Maybe blogging will help me figure out why I keep kissing all these frogs. Or maybe I will realize that I'm the frog. Either way - here goes...</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3903746838314444039-8974517905704200155?l=wannabe57.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>AngelMamanoreply@blogger.com1