It’s Monday morning. The weekend was summery and hot. I cooled out in the Village Saturday on the strip of 8th S b/w 5th and 6th ave. It was mad bitches out there I tell you. Women, women, women were out looking sexy, and guys were out there harassing them.
After about an hour and a half of looking, I decided to try and holla at a couple of young ladies whom I felt were attractive. The first girl I said something to, she was a school girl, I could tell from the way she was reacting when I said something to her. I talking in my usual polite tone, and she and her friend were liking running away from me like I was a wild animal. I was walking with them for a little, and then her friend said “we are just tryin’ to get home.” From that statement right there, I knew they were like 19 to 21 years of age, not what I’m tryin’ to be bothered with.
The next girl was a browned skinned honey, short, with a nice ass, low haircut. I said something to her and she had a stern face on. I tried to loosen her up a little. I asked her was she in the market to meet any new friends. She said that she was involved with someone, the old cop out line to get a guy out of your face. I said to her “that’s what you all say” and I turned around to go back and chill on the wall.
I had been out there about two hours at this point, and decided that it was time to go home. On my way to my car, I stopped at Barnes and Noble bookstore on the corner of 6th Ave and 8th St, and there was this honey there that I had seen earlier that caught my eye. When I came back out of the bookstore, she was still there with her friends. I stood there for a minute to contemplate whether or not I should talk to her. I decided not to.
As I was standing there, a man passed by. We were about the same height, and our eyes met, so I said hello, and he did the same. He strolled down the street. He looked like a nice gentleman in his early fifties. I caught up to him and asked him was he from New York. He said yes that he had been living there all his life. I asked him had he seen Coming To America. He said that he had. So then I says, “I’m going to ask you the same question Eddie Murphy asked the barber.” “What do you have to do to find a nice woman in the town?” So he starts kicking some science, and I was listening to him. He said that he was cooling out for the day walking up and down the block. His name was Mustaffa. We turned around and headed back down to 8th St, and he was telling me that you have to let off a positive energy, and get that eye contact. Once you get the eye contact, you roll with it from there. We stopped down by the bookstore, and stood on that corner and talked and watched the ladies go by. Since I was standing there, and I spoke to her when we passed by, I decided that I should talk to the girl whom I decided not to talk to 15 minutes earlier.
I called her over to me because she was in between her two friends. She had somewhat of an attitude but not too heavy. She said she was 21, lived in Jersey, just had a son, was going back to school, and wasn’t looking for a man because most men out are about bullshit, so she keeps friends. She had been waiting on the corner there for a friend, she said. I gave her the run down to let her know that I was not bullshit. “I’m 26; I graduated college; I have a job; I have my own apartment; I have my own car.” We talked for a moment, and I told her it was nice meeting, and she went and stood back between her friends. I probably could have gotten her number, but I didn’t bother asking for it. Funny how every time I run into a Jersey chick in New York, we click a little, and I can get the number. For one, calling Jersey is long distance; for two, I’m not tryin’ to talk to no 21 year old still in college. I was telling Mustaffa that I’m out of college and I ain’t trying to go back to school. I am past that. He agreed with me on that one. Mustaffa and I stood there for about 45 min talking about different women who passed by, and he was giving me pointers on how to get with, and the mentality of most women in New York. He told me of an after work spot for Friday nights that he hangs out at. I got his cell phone number, and he went about his way.
I decided to take another stroll down 8th Street. After about 30 mins I spotted this young lady I liked. I stood and checked her out as she was talking with her friends. She started to proceed down the block, and I followed her, waiting to make my move to talk to her. I passed her and her friends up a little. A guy said something to her as he was walking by. She laughed and kept goin; there was my opportunity to get at her and I did. I turned around as the guy was saying something to her. I said “how are you doing?” She said “didn’t I see you back there on the corner?” She noticed me, which was a good sign I guess. She was 23, lives in the Bronx. She seemed nice and intelligent, but you never know. I was telling her that I was from out of town, and asking her what do you have to do to talk to a girl around this town. She said she didn’t know. New York girls just talk like they have an attitude, and don’t trust to give out their home number, and so on and so forth; that’s just the way it is here. She gave me her pager number, and I gave her my home number. I’ll probably call her tonight. I walked in the other directions back towards 6th Ave.
As I was walking I noticed Busta Rhymes sitting down talking on a cell phone. I reached out my arm to give him a pound, but he ignored it. His friend or bodyguard said “he’s on the phone right now man.” You know, as if I couldn’t see that. I just kept on walking. I had a tape of my beats in my pocket, so I turned around and asked this dude could I speak with him after he gets off the phone. He brushes me off with some bullshit like “if it’s for business, business hours are… it’s the weekend.” I said oh well, and kept it movin’ down the street. I stood in this one spot for about 20 mins, and then I made my way home across the Queens Bridge. I just chilled at home all night. Ricardo called and said that he and Kenneth were goin’ to go out tonight, and bullshit like they usually do. I wasn’t in the mood to be riding them around all night talkin’ to hoes who don’t want to talk. They called about three times asking me was I coming out, and I told them no each time.
I had talked to Lauren earlier that day, and we discussed her coming to New York, and she said she wasn’t coming, and our talks about marriage were over because I ignored her on the phone last weekend when Rolonda was at my house from Florida. I met Rolonda while in Florida with my cousin Romeo for the Black College Reunion Spring Break. She was in town for the weekend, and we had been talking for about a month because I knew she was coming to town. She was there at my house, and we were having safe sex, which I couldn’t feel, so it was a so so weekend of putting on multiple condoms, stopping because I couldn’t feel shit to come. I finally busted a nut with the condom on Sunday afternoon on our last try before I had to drop her off over her aunt’s house in St Albans Queens.
I couldn’t talk to Lauren while Rolonda was right in my kitchen cooking me dinner. And besides I had talked to Lauren earlier that day while Rolonda was gone visiting her friends. Lauren said I hurt her feelings by not talking to her. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. It was all bullshit though. She never planned on marrying me and moving to New York. She was just getting revenge from when I told her I wanted to marry her last year, and changed my mind because she was dogging me for her new/old boyfriend Jamelle. She never planned on getting back with me seriously since she had suspicion of me fucking Rebecca while I was with her. And plus the fact that I told her when we first started talking that we would probably never be able to be together because she had three kidz.
I am only in lust with Lauren anyway, and I probably would have married her out of that lust. I wonder how long it would have lasted; probably a long time with the advent of Viagra. I decided to mail her some journal I wrote telling her the real story of my relationship with her, my cheating, my lust, etc for her. It was never real love. I’ve always known that. She probably has too, which is the reason why we could never really get along. I think of her often though, she makes my dick the hardest, but love is not there like that. So I’ll let her go once and for all. I’m too old to be playing games with her. I’ll see what’s on Coubie’s mind, the 23 year old I met in the village. She has the look of a nice girl I could grow to love. But finding love is a long shot I know.
A relationship with my daughter doesn’t seem possible with the forces of her mom working against me. I’ve decided to tell her that she can have her daughter, without my love and support. I shouldn’t have to fight to love and care for my own child. I’ll go to jail before I support a child whom I can’t see like I wish. And that just may be where I end up because Victoria is not gonna work with me. I hear she is pregnant again, making her way up to that “3 kidz status” like her two sisters and Sausha, whom she talked about so bad when she heard I was dating her. If she is pregnant, that is two baby daddies. At least Sausha only has one. Victoria your ignorance, and evil, and hatred are getting you nowhere in life. And you used to talk about me not believing in god. I’m doin a hell of lot better not believing in him, than you are believing in him.
The Only Child 1988 