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A Good Date Gone Wrong

What could be worse than having to split the bill? Having to pay for the bill. Yes, that ish happened to me and let me tell you I was one sour pussy cat.

I was comfortable in my singledom. I’m young, ready, doing well in my nine to five. No need to mess it up with some unplanned mess of a date. But one of my girlfriends was convinced that I needed a man. I needed to just go out and start dating again. Mind you, I had just gotten out of a five year relationship with a man that I thought had loved me who ended up cheating on me with one of my ex-best friends. I guess they always had the hots for each other?

But I trust my girl and take her up on this offer to date this dude that she knows from work. Now, I won’t sleep on him. He was a good looking man. Too good looking if you ask me. And she’s in the finance sector so I know if she’s making bank, he’s making big bank and probably has ten off-shore accounts in Sweden somewhere. Not to mention the ride he picked me up in. A brand spankin’ new Benz with leather interior, his initials crisply carved into the dashboard, the aroma of new wafting through the windows. I could have sworn I was dreaming.

Not only was he handsome with his tall, chocolate self, but he was charming too. As I got in the car he was trying to do the gentleman thing and went to open my door. I caught him before he did and gave him a friendly smile.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it myself.”

We laughed and giggled over stories from work and his failed attempts at basketball. A red and white cane resting in the back of his car signaled to me that he was a Kappa so I was impressed not only by the fact that he was college-educated but that he must have been a ladies man on campus. He had irresistible lips, a torso that stretched for days. We kissed before we even got inside the restaurant. I thought things were going great.

He ordered my food at the French restaurant. Said something sweet in Italian, though. Got me some wine. Picked out a desert and sat patiently as he watched me mischievously lick my fork. Now there’s the kind of guys who want to just hit and the kind of guys who want to get to know you. But I knew from his swagger and the way he carried himself that he was the kind of guy who wanted to just hit but with style and grace. I was all his, wrapped around his finger like a little gum drop.

The waiter comes with the bill and puts it down gently, smiling as I jabber away at the mouth with conversation.

I keep eating and talking, expecting him to pick up the billholder at some point and start digging through his pants. But he doesn’t.

So after about a minute of acting like I don’t notice it’s there and I don’t notice he’s not paying I say jokingly, “so I guess we are watching dishes tonight, huh?”

He grins and laughs back a bit and closes the book and slides it over to me. “You’re a big girl, you can handle it yourself, right?”

My eyes almost popped out of my sockets and busted his head.

NIQQQQQQQQQQA WHAT?

I had to gulp down some curse words. “Excuse me, what did you say?”

“You’re paying,” he said flatly without emotion. “I’ll treat you to something even nicer at my place.”

Hol’ on. Hol’ on. NIQQQQQQQQQQA WHAT?

I’m going to tell you. The first thing I wanted to do was beat that man upside his head. Then run outside and pull a Jazmine Sullivan by busting the windows out of his car. How dare he take control of the date and then feed me with the bill. Nobody told me I was in a Martin Lawrence film. I pop cash out of my wallet—ladies you must always be prepared for whatever emergencies come your way—and got up from the table.

“Where are you going? I thought we were having a good time?” He asked. A smirk littered his face. “I have a surprise for you, sweetie.” He reached for my hand but I yanked it back.

Grabbing my purse I turn crudely, just so he can see my behind and what the hell he wasn’t getting that night.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

Take that niqqqa! Dissed the dude. With class.

His face dropped as I walked away. Cause I don’t take that ‘ish from nobody.

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