THE BRONX BOMBER (based on a true story)…

"I've been dating since I was fifteen! I'm exhausted! Where is he?" Charlotte from Sex and the City

I was hanging out with some friends last night and we were talking relationships, more specifically dating and actively dating in New York City.  Now I have my theories on why dating completely SUCKS in this city. And in my 11 years of being here…give or take a year or two, MY theories for ME have proven true.   I won’t go into the specificities of my theories, because I don’t want us to get lost in technicalities, we’ll save that for a different post.  The point is, I’ve been here for a while and I’ve had only a handful of dates. I could take it personal, and sometimes I have, but in the end, it really has nothing to do with me and everything to do with New York.  (Don’t even argue this point with me, I won’t even listen to you lol).  So, I have taken to simply say, rather than explaining my stance and conspiracy theories, that my personality doesn’t necessarily translate well in this city.  Eh? Less offensive right? *side-eye*

Now to be fair, it was really one bad date when I first moved here that made me pull back and almost stop dating altogether in this city.  Partially because 1) this date was soooo bad that I started to question my judgment, but 2) it left a bad taste in my mouth and I needed to reevaluate all things dating related. 

So in the midst of talking about love, life, dating woes, and overall tossing daggers at the place we call home (y’all know I have a love/ hate relationship with this city), I promised them I would blog about this date with what my close friends and I have tagged “the Bronx bomber”.

Up front disclaimer: To be fair TO ME I met this guy at a friend’s birthday party and I thought he knew her.  Little did I know, that was not the case….AT ALL. Hey man, it happens sometimes, what’s a girl to do? *Nika shrug*

I met this guy and we talked on the phone a few times. He was cool and all, slightly aggressive in his vocal cadence ala DMX (sans the barking ‘cause chile…no) but you know typical New York type aggression, kind of like they’re fighting the words and thoughts as they come out of their mouth.  It’s a weird thing but y’all know what I’m talking about.  LOL it’s more prevalent in the Bronx, where this dude was from.   The South Bronx to be exact, a fact that meant nothing to me then, but it meant EVERYTHING to me after. Hang on, you’ll see. 

So in the course of our conversation, we decided I would meet him in the city for dinner.  I lived in Jersey at the time and in general I had a rule, that until I was comfortable with the person, I would not allow them to pick me up from my house or know where I live. A little safety measure I put in place after the  robber dude. Listen don’t judge me, it’s hard out there for a single woman…you can’t judge them right all the time…or even half the time if you’re me. I mean shit happens, yo.  So, we met in the city and he pulled up and the first thing that stood out to me was that he was driving a minivan.  Not to poo-poo on you minivan drivers, but I was 24 and he was the same age, so what man is driving a minivan at that age unless it’s 1) his mother’s or 2) has a gang of kids (and no it wasn’t tricked out, it was minivan-ed proper!)  So I made a comment. (Who didn’t see that coming?) Heeeeeey, it was a harmless comment, something like “Minivan eh?”  His response and please believe this is a direct quote “What?! I told you have kids!!!!”  Ummm, sir? Actually, no he didn’t *a strong side eye* but I continued on.  As we started he asked if I minded going with him to his boy’s fight party.  Apparently he promised he’s swing by and that afterward we could continue to dinner.  Of course I’m like sure, I mean I liked to watch fights so why not.  And off we were, up the Westside highway.

But to my dismay he was headed to the Bronx, now I don’t know why I was surprised I mean did I expect lil’ DMX to live in Chelsea?  Okay that’s not fair; he could have (not).  So I was hella nervous, I was not familiar with the Bronx and quite honestly no one had ever said anything flattering about that area.  And it wasn’t just the Bronx, it was the SOUTH BRONX, like the pj’s next to the stadium, South Bronx, South Bronx.  Now, y'all know I’m not familiar with that project life. I’m going to keep it cute but wading through trash filled, piss soaked elevators wasn’t really my cup o’tea (and still is not).  And that’s no shade to anyone who’s life that duplicates.  Really.  Lol.

Listen this date went bad and bad fast! I had on this lace see-through shirt with this black demi bra underneath. It was hot and would have been hella sexy across the table at dinner. However, he failed to mention his friend was a girl and yeah well…need I say the rest?  But she wasn’t a problem as much as he was, once he saw my shirt, much to my surprise; he gripped me under my arm and threatened me not to talk to ANY one in the apartment. It was quite menacing.

** Now, at this point I was like you should leave, but on the way up there I didn’t see a subway station AND I didn’t see any cabs. (obvs I had no clue about gypsy cabs) **

Right, so I was stuck and damn near hyperventilating.  You know how it goes, what can go wrong WILL go wrong:

·         First issue: Dude disappeared. What do I mean disappear?  I mean like gone, ghost, vamoose, like olly olly oxen free? Yea, disappeared.

·         Next:  all of the girls, and I mean every last one of them stared at me like I wanted their man. Now to be fair, my demi bra may have given that impression but shit…who knew? Actually I remember a girl sucking her teeth and saying “no, she didn’t “and another saying “yes, that bitch did” << sigggghhhhh….

·         The dude showed up briefly to ask me if I wanted something to eat.  Eat what you ask? Ya, there was a menu tapped to the cabinet selling plates. Umm hmm, you heard me SELLING PLATES!

·         But because I couldn’t see the menu with my tricky eye sight, I looked at the guy’s plate sitting next to me (yes I was going to get a plate because a “bitch” was hungry (Hey, when In Rome…)). That wondering eye was met with a swift “What the fuck are you looking at” <<<direct quote. *more hyperventilating*

·         Dude disappeared again.

·         Dude showed back up….SMASHED! Like higher than I’d ever seen anybody in my life….Drunk as a skunk. Chewed…Fried…and any other descriptive I could come up with. HE WAS THAT, AND THAT WAS HE!

You think that was enough? No, we got in the car, and dude turned to me and said “look, I can’t take you home, but you can stay at my mama’s house, she won’t mind”! HAHAHAHAHA you know you have to laugh right there. Like word? Your mama? She won’t mind? Ummm dude I MIND! And so this led to a sting of accusations and him driving and swerving me back to 34^th street.  Listen….this dude…that date…was everything I was afraid of getting. Yes, worst than the robber.

Did I see him again? Hell no? Did I fear my life? Absolutely!  Was there anything to gain? Nope.   Only my extremely long dating hiatus, fear of blind dates, and alas my fear of the Bronx.

Listen folks, come to your own conclusion here there are many, many, many, many morals hidden in this gem of the story, so take what you can and apply it.  For me, my lesson was simple; the Bronx is and will forever be off limits.  And for NYC weeeeeeell, let’s just see how long I last here ;-)