Von

A long time ago I vowed to NEVER holla at women in nightclubs again.

Why?

Back in the day (when I used to go out every weekend) I thought the club was the best place to meet women.
But soon I noticed that I only met flaky chicks there.
Only wanting to play games and waste my damn time.
It frustrated the hell out of me—but for some reason I kept tryin’.

One spring night I met a pretty young thang. We exchanged numbers after a fun evening (we danced, made out, I bought her a drink, she sat on my lap, and we talked for a while, etc) only for me to call her and find out that she deleted my number.

That incident made me finally wake up and swear not to do that shyt again.

And I didn’t…

Until last Friday night.

Me and the fellas hit the First Friday party at the Hard Rock Hotel in beautiful downtown Chicago. I was sippin’ my Bud Lite when a young lady came up and asked me if I’d care to dance.

Ol’ girl was cute.
Dark skin.
Shoulder-length hair.
Nice smile.
Athletic body.
She wore a short, tight (but respectable) white dress.

And she was aggressive. Women usually don’t approach gentlemen to dance. She took my hand, escorted me to the floor, and gassed my head up as we danced (“I don’t usually ask guys to dance—but you’re cute…You don’t look your age at all”). Her flattery worked! She’s 23 (major red flag), is a registered nurse, and owns a condo in the Bronzeville area of Chicago’s south side. She had a rough week and was out trying to have a good time (as was I).

We danced for maybe 10 minutes—a pleasant experience.
After a while it was time to wrap it up.

I thought about exchanging numbers before remembering my vow: NO CLUB CHICKS EVER AGAIN!

Then again, I’m just getting’ back on the dating scene after me and my ex lady friend “broke up.”
Why not?
We exchanged info, I told her it was nice meeting her and to have a nice night if I didn’t see her again.

But I did see her ass again. Throughout the night I peeped her dancing with two or three other guys. Which is cool. I expect a single, attractive 23-year-old to go out and meet people. But for some reason, it bothered me (was she tellin’ them the same thing she did me?). What bothered me more is the dude I saw her standing with from time to time. It seemed like they were together, ‘cause dude did not look happy seeing her enjoying herself. Were they friends? Or “friends.” Was it her brother? Cousin?

The dude—combined with the attention she was getting—made me rethink my plans.
I started to see her as another flaky chick.
And I ain’t tryin’ to waste no time (time I could be laying on my couch watchin’ the game) playin’ her games.
I’m too old for that, dog.

Later that night I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was ol’ girl.
She asked me how my night was going. I said it was fine. Hers was too.
Dude was standing next to her lookin’ pissed off (I’d have dropkicked his bytch ass if he looked at me funny).
She reminded me to give her a call before I walked off.

Son of a bytch!
Seems she’s really looking forward to talking.
And if I took her number and didn’t call, wouldn’t I be the flaky one?
Guess I don’t have no choice, dog.

As me and my boy left for the night, I saw her walking down Michigan Avenue—with the same dude who was lookin’ pissed off all night…

Ugh! I have no idea what to expect from this call. More to come later…