Let the record reflect that I was minding my own business in the Living Room Lounge of the W Fort Lauderdale. I had laptop open, BlackBerry in hand, $13 glass of Australian Shiraz on the table. It didn't even occur to me that it was Happy Hour. I was waiting on BougieSis to come back from a meeting and it was freezing cold in the room. I had high humdity hair (think Chaka Khan around her "Rufus and" period), a twinset, capri pants and gold ballet flats on. I was not bringing the sexy. But I went downstairs to warm up and get a sip on. I repeat... I was minding my OWN. DAMN. BUSINESS.
Yet and still, as I turned to the left... yonder came Cap Daddy in his silk shirt, ironed jeans and shiny dress shoes sitting with presumably his woman. Now if they were a day under 35, I'd be stunned. Old girl was dressed inappropriately for her age and shape in a clingy halter dress with a short skirt. The first thing I noticed was that she was rubbing up and down the inside of his thigh with her hand. Oh. My. When I happened to lift my gaze upwards, he was looking right at me. I gave the universal black people head nod and went about my business.
About ten minutes later, he got up to go to the bathroom. On his way past he paused and said, "Hey." I looked up and smiled and repeated, "Hey." Done. She got up and followed him towards the bathroom. When he came out, she grabbed his arm and dragged him outside (in the RAIN). She was visibly angry, with mean mug, finger pointing and neckrolling. I averted my eyes. When they came back in, I could feel someone's eyes on me. When I looked up, she was sending me the evil eye from hell.
Le Damn and Le Sigh. Life is too short for shiggity. I grabbed my overpriced wine and moved to the booth in the back in the corner in the dark. Five minutes later, she walked over to me and said, "Don't even think about looking at my man." I blinked rapidly and put my hands as if to say, "Don't tase me over your old ass man that don't nobody want in the first place, sister." That's a saying, right? She slapped her hand down on the table, pointed at me and walked back. Umm. Guess she told me.
Two minutes later, the waitress came over with a glass of wine, telling me it was from Cap Daddy. Come on now... what part of the game is that? Dude was over there with overly affectionate and unnecessarily clingy in public chick, why instigate drama? I wrote "No thank you" on the napkin and sent it back. And then fearing that South Florida chicks might ignore concealed weapons laws, I retreated to my room.
BougieSis came and we rolled out to Truluck's. No drama, just dinner - right? Without even thinking, I checked in on Foursquare. It's a Twitter service that allows you to broadcast your whereabouts but more importantly, rack up coupons at places you frequent regularly. Twenty minutes into our meal, some happy white dude screams out "One C!" We look around and he says, "That's you right? One Chele?" Took me a minute to figure out that he checked in at Trulucks also and Foursquare told him I was dining there. I was like, "Aw shiggity! Who is this?" He threw up a "1" and a "C" like gang signs. "What's up, girl?" I smiled and nodded. The group of people with him were mortified. BougieSis was like, "Are you a celebrity now?" Um... no. Damn these innanets...
I'm back in Dallas and here I shall barricade myself up in the Bougie McCastle for a day or two. Clearly I need to drop the profile down a notch or two. All I have to say is... it ain't my fault.
BougieLand fellas - what's with the hollering at one chick when you have on on your arm? Ladies - what's with the insecurity? Overall, a couples FAIL. Not a good look. Thoughts? Comments? Random insights?