Von

So I’ve been reading this book, Things I’ve Learned From Women Who’ve Dumped Me.

It’s about things celebrities have learned from gettin’ kicked to the curb. It inspired me to re-tell my heartbreaking narrative.

---

I’ve been dumped once in my life.
(Technically more than once. My ex dumped me every other week—until one day I had had enough and didn’t take her back)

The ladies did NOT wanna ride Mount Vondarrien back then, dog.
I was a dork. Spent most of my time readin’ comic books.
No fashion sense. No hot brand-name shoes or clothes (thanks, mom). Bad haircut.
I played football, but the girls runnin’ the halls of Dunbar HS still wanted no part of me.
Even if one did—I ain’t have no “game.” Or confidence. I was hopeless.

Until I peeped this pretty young thang in the halls one day. She was short. Cute. Big, wide smile. Athletic body (she played volleyball). And had the hugest rack my 15-year-old eyes had ever seen. Dog, it was love at first sight. The best part? She’d smile at me every time I’d see her. I got that tingly feeling whenever we locked eyes.

But I was too big of a wuss to ever approach her (why’d a hot girl wanna talk to me?)—but shyt got real when her crew said she wanted me to holla.

I put my fear aside and did one day. Next thing you know—in a shocking turn of events—she was my girl.

My life took a drastic change after that, dog.
I’d never had a girlfriend before.
It was uncharted territory—but I was happier than I’d ever been.
We hung out all the time. Talked on the phone for hours (about whatever the hell teens talk about).
We made out in the halls between classes. Held hands.
Dry humped a couple times. All that sappy shyt.
My popularity soared. I got props for datin’ a girl a lot of brothas wanted.
I was in love for the first time ever! What a feeling!
Those were definitely the best days of my young life.
Things couldn’t have been better.

I should’ve seen it coming. All the signs were there.
After a while we ain’t talk or hang out much anymore.
We went from being inseparable to strangers almost overnight.
My world was crumbling all around me.
But I didn’t…I wouldn’t give up hope!

One day I saw her walking with a guy in the hallway. A dude from the band.
I said “hi” to her. She barely acknowledged my presence.

The Price Is Right loser’s horn played over the PA system.

The next day I ran into her again. She handed me a note.
A fukkin’ note.

That  note.
I can’t even remember what it said. I just remember being COMPLETELY devastated.
To my credit, I waited till I got home before I cried. Like a fukkin’ newborn baby. In front of my mom (I’ll bet she was like, “Look at this lil’ pussy. Is this the ‘man’ I raised you to be?”). I’d spend the next couple weeks shedding tears while listening to slow jams, reminiscing about the good times we had together.

Words can never describe the pain I felt. It took me a long, long time to get over what went down.
I was never the same afterwards.

So what’d I learn from the girl who dumped me?

Sadly, I learned not to completely trust any woman ever. Deep down, the pain that 15-year-old felt prevents me from getting too close to anyone. You can’t fully understand unless you’ve loved someone so much—only to have your heart broken in such a cold, heartless way. As a result, I’ll probably always keep any woman in my life at arm’s length. And I have NO tolerance for flaky women. Now if I see the same things start to happen, I can easily let go and be done with it.

Yup, she turned me into a cold, heartless bastard.

Miraculously, we actually got back together my senior year. I guess my feelings for her never left—despite how bad she played me. But after a couple of months, the same stuff happened close to graduation.

This time I just let go. And didn’t look back.

 

A couple weeks ago I posted a blog called 25 Things You Don’t Know About Men.

It was a rebuttal of the 10 Things You Don’t Know About Women articles that run in Esquire every month where celebrities give us advice on dealing with the opposite sex.

For instance:
Sandra Oh: “So, you want to know the surefire way to get laid? Start by cleaning the house.”

I thought of a couple more things to add to the list.

_________________________________________

1) It really tore us apart and wounded us to the depth of our souls the first couple times you cried in front of us. The 11th time? We watched you and wondered what time the Bulls game came on that night.

 

2) Please don’t ask, “What are you thinking right now?” If we wanted you to know—we’d tell you! Can we please keep our private thoughts?

 

3) We can’t take you seriously if you wear makeup and/or perfume to the gym. You’re tryin’ too hard.

 

4) Once you make that wild, shrieking noise after we lay the smackdown on that ass in bed—we know we can officially get away with just about anything.

 

5) Don’t wear those low-cut tops or tight-ass T-shirts—if you gon’ have the nerve to complain about men staring and gawking at your rack all day. The hell did you expect? If we rocked a speedo in public, we wouldn’t complain about y’all lookin’ at our manhood. Same principles apply.

 

6) Please don’t EVER wear those ugly flannel pajamas to bed again! Again, we need you looking sexy at bedtime. Not like you’re about to chop some firewood with your lumberjack friends.

 

7) When you say, “I’m a born-again Christian and I’ve dedicating my life to the Lord,” we hear, “Dog, yo’ ass ain’t gettin’ NONE for a long-ass time. Mutherfukker.”

 

8 ) When we ask how your day went, keep it brief and wrap that shit up in under a minute. Two minutes tops. Any longer and we’ll zone out and start thinkin’ about who we can pick up on the waiver wire for our fantasy baseball team.

 

9) We’ll never understand why y’all are so damn obsessed with goin’ to the zoo.

 

10) No—we actually don’t wanna “go all night.” We really wanna wrap it up in 30 minutes (or less) so we can A) roll the hell over and go to sleep, or B) go watch The NFL Network.

 

11) If we go on more than four dates (dinner, movies, drinks, etc) without you pulling out your wallet and offering to foot the bill at least once—that’s a pretty good indication that yo’ ass is NOT a keeper.

 

12) Don’t even think about asking us to go to Walgreens to pick you up some “feminine hygiene products.” And honestly, would you really want a dude who has no problem standing in line with some Stayfree Dry Max Ultra Thin Pads?

 

13) And please have the decency to hide all of your feminine hygiene stuff when we come over. Few things in life are more traumatic than the horror of discovering that the red bag with the cord and nozzle in your bathroom is NOT a water bottle.

 So I made a call to the good folks at DirecTv last night.

Yup, the same muhfukkas who’ve been dikking me around for months now.

I ordered a hi-def DVR in July of ‘07.

It is currently February of ‘08…and I still ain’t got my shyt.

However, they have been charging me every month—for DVR service that I still don’t have!

In the history of mankind, has there ever been customer service any worse than that?

I pay ‘em my hard-earned money. They owed me some answers.
I needed them to stop lying and tell me what the hell was really goin’ on behind the scenes.

Anyone who knows me knows that I rarely lose my temper.
Few people have ever heard me raise my voice.
And I can’t remember if I’ve ever gone off on someone (outside of playing football).
But if there was ever a time for me to snap out on a muhfukka—it was TONIGHT, gat dammit!

 

So the automated system puts me on the line with this dude named Rick (I think that was his name).
Sounded like a dorky white guy.

 

“What can I do for you tonight, Mr XXXX?“

I told him (with a calm, yet authoritative voice) how his company had been fukking me for months.

I let him know the last few people I talked to straight up lied to me.

And that I just wanted him to be straight with me.

All I wanted was for him to: 1) send my hi-def DVR, and 2) refund the money that I’ve been paying for DVR service that I ain’t got.

Is that too much to ask?

 

Apparently so, ’cause that muhfukka lied to me right off the bat.

 

“Mr XXXXX, our records show that your hi-def DVR service was disconnected in October and we haven’t charged you since then.“

Uh, huh. That’s what ol’ girl told me the last time.

Her ass was lying. So was he!

 

Since I had my computer on, I went to their website and pulled up my bill. I told him that I was looking right at the $6 monthly DVR service charge. Caught in his lie, dude backtracked. At first he offered me 3 free months of HBO (nah, dog. I want my money!). After a few minutes, he said he’d refund me, but he could only do it from October…even though I was charged for it from July. When I pressed him, he said that was all he could do.

It took all I had not to scream at dude.

Instead, I waited patiently for dude to refund my gotdamn money.

When he “finished,” I asked him for a confirmation number.

Dude said he couldn’t give me one.

WTF! I thought every transaction had a confirmation number.

But he said this one didn’t.

Son of a bytch!

Instead, he told me to refresh my bill online—because the refund would show there.

After a few minutes of “refreshing,” I never saw my refund.

Again, I almost lost it and snapped on his ass, but instead I politely asked him to just send my fukkin’ hi-def DVR.

‘Cause at that point, I’d been on the phone for 30 minutes and I was missing the Duke/UNC game.

Can you believe that dude told me I had to pay for another one?
His reasoning: since my 90-day warranty had run out, I wasn’t “covered” anymore.

With my voice bordering on yelling, I asked dude how the fukk can a warranty run out on something I never received?

“Sorry, sir. There’s nothing I can do.”

Have you ever seen that Snickers commercial where the telemarketer wakes a guy up at 6 in the morning—and the dude (while still on the phone and in his bathrobe) flies to the state where the telemarketer is, finds where he works, and smashes his keyboard?

That’s exactly what I wanted to do to that muhfukka from DirecTv.
But instead of smashing the keyboard on the ground, I wanted to smash it over dude’s head and whoop on his pussy ass till the sun came up!

After I finally raised my voice (somewhat), dude magically transferred me to some people who knew what the hell they were doing.

After putting me on hold so that they could review “the notes on my account,” they said my hi-def DVR would be here in 2 to 3 days. They even gave me a confirmation number. I actually believe I’ll really get my shyt this time.  

It’s a damn shame you have to raise your voice and get borderline ignorant with a muhfukka just to get what you paid for.