Welcome back! I hope all of you had a good holiday. I’m starting the new year off doing the one thing every single girl must do, adjust and clean out their booty call list. It’s a hard job but one that must be done. That’s right, married women (and some of you may be hanging on to your list as well) the Booty Call list exist. Men are no longer the only ones prowling for just some no-strings attrached, mind blowing sex. We have them too. The brother you would never consider marrying, the one you try to keep as far away from your friends as possible and if your friends have met him you hope they forget about your habit of having temporary insanity from time to time.
The ways a brother can find himself on the Booty Call list are many. He could have started off as one with potential. He could have just caught you on a good night when your blood alcohol level was double the legal driving limit.
I’m not here to judge.
The funny part about the Booty Call list is that a lot of times brothers have a hard time excepting they have been downgraded to the list. Such is the case as number four on-let’s call her-Adrianna-her list. (What?) Let’s just call him…Mr. Bitch.
Laugh all you want to, but brother man deserves the title. For years that’s all he ever does.
“How come you don’t treat me like you used to? Why aren’t you as free-hearted?”
Trust, it takes everything I have not to roll my…er, Adrianna’s eyes to the back of her head and resist the urge to gag him. Can’t a girl hit it and quit it anymore? Despite only calling him once maybe twice a year, Mr. Bitch has convinced himself that I’m…Adrianna is in love with him. The other 363 days of the years she’s just fighting her feelings.
Oh, just shut up and get undressed already.
For some brothers there are a certain amount of lying required. Like: You’re the best I’ve ever had. Yeah, yeah, you can get this anytime you want. You know, the standard.
However, continued whining is the fastest way to get booted it off the Booty Call list. I…Adrianna figured she’d handled this by finally letting Mr. Bitch know what’s up. “Look, this is just sex. Nothing else.”Mr. Bitch’s comeback is that I’m…er, oh forget it-I’m wrapped in denial.
No amount of protestations could convince him otherwise. So I let it go. I disappear for eight months, pop back up for a Holiday BC and here comes Mr. Bitch throwing ice water on my …spirit. I grip the phone, trying to keep my eye on the prize but by the time I hang up with a pending hookup time, I’d come to the conclusion, Mr. Bitch finally has to go.
TO THE LEFT. TO THE LEFT.
It’s too much hard work, too emotionally draining to deal with for just the brief time I allow him into my world…unless I could convince him one last time-THIS IS JUST SEX. I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOU-JUST THE LOWER PART OF YOU.The results: a first grade diva fit that ended with the words: I’m out of your life forever.
What?
Who says that other than a estrogen pumped drama queen? Did he rip that line from an old DYNASTY episode? *Sigh* Anyway, Mr. Bitch is finally off the list. Who’s next? Ooh, Eric a.k.a Chocolate Thunder. Let me see what he’s up to…