No Beard, No Pussy

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I’ve asked God a million times to send me someone who He thinks I should have. I was in a slump around my birthday back in March and decided to turn-up in Atlanta – turn-up capital of the world. My 1st  nightlife stop was a local Friday night hot spot – celebs were everywhere, beautiful black people were getting down to Future’s Karate Chop…everyone was having a good ol’ fashion hood time. I was in my element.  I, along with my partner-in-crime, was probably the oldest chicks in this particular club. She sipped on Macallan and I called on my good friend Jack. Before I could reach for my credit card, he interjected and offered to take care of the tab. Great – thanks.

He was fine as hell…kind of old. But FINE.

There’s nothing that gets me going like a bearded, tall, dark and handsome man. He was quiet, older – about 40. Wasn’t really moved by the big booty, 40” weave wearing girls dancing circles around him. He was the laid back – in the cut type of guy, you know..just out to have a good time and a drink. Observant. Sexy. Probably came to the club to discuss business. More than likely, a hustler. I figured that we wouldn’t be ringing wedding bells or planning to have children – we’d probably have a conversation that’ll lead to a great time. My 20’s are coming to an end, why not have fun with Nino Brown?

He mouthed off about his home in Atlanta, his properties in Philly, Boston, Brooklyn and the Carolinas. All code for his old trap houses turned rental properties. He introduced me to some random business partner to further convince me that his shit was legit. Ha! I didn’t put much energy into him – just figured I’d walk away with more free drinks and maybe dinner for 3 (had to include my home girl) at Bacchanalia the following afternoon. I left the club. I had to abruptly leave Atlanta the following day. I never called him.

Fast forward 3 months after our initial meeting, I get a random call from Nino Brown claiming that he’s in town, he remembers me and would love to take me out. It was Saturday; I was fresh off a Brazilian wax and had no other plans outside of watching reruns of Martin and sipping Jam Jar all night. Cool whatever.

He picked me up in a fucking Aston Martin.

I don’t live in the ritzy Upper East Side or the super expensive Downtown area. I live in the heart of Bed Stuy, a scene straight out of Spike Lee’s Crooklyn. Any other bird woman would have been moved by the Aston Martin but I was completely humiliated. Furthermore, where are we going? The plan was to visit a local restaurant and then hop over to a day party at a local beer garden. Are we riding up the parkway to the Hamptons? Should I run back in and change into my rich bitch attire?? His loudness rounded up the black, militant neighborhood watch and now all eyes are on me. I’m dating someone whose car cost a 1/3 of the average  cost of BK brownstone. Great. I knew what kind of man I was dealing with but I didn’t think he’d be flossing fancy cars around Brooklyn as if he was cruising down Rodeo drive. Despite the gentrification and the Barclay’s Center – Brooklyn is still the hood.

I had a good time with Nino and even teased that he should pull out his Range Rover next time around – he might upset the block again (as if there will be a next time). The truth is I’m not about that fast life. I have too much to lose. Nino, and his beard life, is very attractive but getting to know his rap sheet 4 grown ass kids aint! They say that God has a sense of humor. I guess this is His way of telling me that I should turn down and stop chasing those bearded men.

Tear.

Have you ever encountered thug love? Can you handle dating a Nino Brown? Do you tend to attract/seek a specific type? Let’s chat!

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