Confessions of a Shawty

8 Apr

Since Oprah is busy narrating the new Discovery show “Life,” I figured I’d capitalize on bringing something to the attention of the masses. She may tell you about komodo dragons, but then who is left to discuss the mating rituals of today’s men? I suppose you’re left with me.

I’ll begin with a story.

Once upon a time,

I went to the student union at Mars Hill to check my mail. Congregated in the lobby was a group of 5 or 6 black guys (I only mention their race because it is pertinent to the story). They were all talking to one another, and I had to pass between them in order to access the stairs, so I smiled and then ducked my head so as to not interrupt them. I heard them talking to each other, but didn’t think much of it, as I made my way down the stairs (Other than overhearing, “BlahBlahBlahShawtyBlahBlah,” which couldn’t possibly be directed at me. And regardless, I wouldn’t have responded to such a term.). Halfway into my descent, I heard someone yell, “Hey!” and looked back up to see one of the guys staring right at me.

“Hey,” I said, with some disdain at the idea of being “hollered” at (as we would term it here in the South). He nodded his head toward the guy beside him and said, “He was talkin’ to you,” to which I desperately wanted to respond, “Really? Because I could’ve sworn I left middle school 6 or 7 years ago…?” Instead, I apologized (naturally, because I’m a nice person) and kept walking.

When I got my mail (a DVD I had been expecting), I began to formulate a plan. If i took the elevator, I could avoid the stairs, but I’d come out right beside where they were all standing anyway… and there was no other way to leave the building without being seen, so I decided to just bite the bullet & engross myself in reading the back of the DVD to discourage any further contact. Ha. Good luck with that.

I walked upstairs and “Joe,” we’ll call him, walks over to me, with his best saunter. (Let me tell you, Usher could hardly outdo this guy.)

He asked, “Whachu got there?”

I handed him the DVD (What else was I supposed to do?) thinking again, it would discourage him… considering it was a 1951 MGM Musical called An American in Paris. No such luck.

Joe: “So can I watch this wichu?”

Me: “Haha, sure.” (This was where I assumed the conversation would end. Again, no such luck.)

Joe: “Ok well I betta get yo numba so I can call you.” He walks towards me with his phone out, grinning because he knows he’s backed me into a corner now.

Me: “Uh. Okay?”

Ok before you go judging, I know it was dumb to give him my number. I was taken completely off guard & don’t think well on my feet.

I walked out of the building feeling a little confused.

Later that night…

My phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown number that said “Hey.”

[Insert mini rant about how completely asinine it is to text people, especially those you don’t know, and say only “hey.”]

I asked who it was and he said “the guy from wren. when r we gona watch the movie?”

I responded with, “Actually, I think I’m going to watch it tonight with my boyfriend, sorry.”

Joe: “u have a bf?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Joe: “y didn’t u tell me?”

Me: “Sorry, I thought it was a joke.”

Joe: “its ok i prolly wouldnt care n e way.”

Me: “Well, we can be friends.”

Joe: “ok.”

Incident #2:

Then, a few weeks ago, I got out of my car after yoga class and was walking up the stairs to my apartment when I heard someone call (in the same fashion as the other incident) up to me. I looked down and the guy who owned the car parked beside mine said, “He was talking to you,” motioning to the guy who had been sitting in the car with the windows down, but I had not seen, and hadn’t gotten out of the car until that very second.

Homeboy swaggers down to the bottom of the stairs and in a very Snoop Dog-esque way croons, “Girl, where yo goin’ so fast?”

Sir, I am standing in front of my door in my workout clothes, keys in hand. Where the hell do you think I’m going?

I said the obligatory, “Hello. I’m going home,” in a much nicer way, and he said, “Oh. You got a boyfriend?” To which I obviously replied, “Yes.” Then he countered with, “Oh but you like to party, don’t you?” at which point my night plans of showering, feeding the dog, and being in bed before 10pm flashed through my mind. I said, “Um. Sometimes?” He laughed and asked for my number, which I told him I don’t give out. (Well not any more anyway!!) Then as his parting remark he said, “It’s okay! I know where you live!”

CREEEPYYYYYY.

Anecdote #3:

Two days ago, I took Jackson to the lake. I got out of the car, got the diaper bag, my camera, and the stroller, put Jackson in the stroller, and started walking up the street beside the lake, looking for a path to walk along the bank. I came upon a guy on his phone. He put his phone down & said, “Can I walk wichu?” I didn’t really know what he was asking, or how to respond properly, so I said, “What?” to which he responded, “Where you goin’?” I said, “I’ve actually never been here before; is there a trail around the lake?” He (we’ll call him George) responded, “No, it’s pretty much just this road- up and back.” So I began walking away and said, “Ok well I guess that’s where I’m going.” George said, “You got a boyfriend?” to which I responded, “I do.” I continued walking.

George continued to stare at me and called out a few seconds later, “Well, you look good!!” To which I nervously laughed, said “Thank you,” and walked away quicker.

When I came back down, I realized that George had staked out the best piece of shade on the near side of the lake. I didn’t mind the sun, but in general, taking 6 month old babies out in the sun with no sunscreen is discouraged. I felt him watching me as I lay out our blanket in the only other spot of shade (which was relatively close to where he was) and begin playing with the toys and pointing out the ducks. Pretty soon, as fate would have it, Jackson got fussy and wanted to be held and walked around. I tried to stay in the shade, but I just kept inching closer and closer to George, who I kept making awkward eye contact with, because I could feel him staring at me.

I decided, “This is stupid. I’m a nice person. I’ll just walk over and try to make small talk, because all of the ducks are right beside where he’s fishing.”

Commence awkward small talk, of which I only have 3 conversation starters anyway.

Me: “So, do you come here often?”

George: “Every day. Same place.”

Me: “Oh, that’s cool. I’ve never been here before, I just wanted to get out and enjoy the beautiful weather. I love it.”

George: (creepily) “Almost as beautiful as you.”

Me: (nervous laugh) “Thanks.”

[Long awkward silence, me trying to point out ducks to Jackson]

Me: “Okay, well looks like it’s just about naptime. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

George: (creepily) “I sure hope so.”

[Exit Rachel as George continues to stare]

The moral of the story is…

  • One should not expect good results when referring to a girl as “Shawty,” “Mama,” “Baby,” or “Girl” within the first 10 seconds.
  • If a girl tells you she has a boyfriend, telling her you don’t care, or making other statements about your nonchalance don’t improve your chances with her.
  • Creepy compliments, however compliments, are not a positive thing when they make a girl’s skin crawl.
  • If you’re looking for a relationship, or even just a positive response, try asking a question about her life, or making conversation. Simply asking if she has a boyfriend is not the best way to express interest.
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2 Responses to “Confessions of a Shawty”

  1. Noelle April 8, 2010 at 11:39 pm #

    You are right/wrong. Bc those lines TOTALLY work on slutty girls. 😉

  2. Leah April 21, 2010 at 1:09 pm #

    Also, love… It’s SNOOP DOGG… as in

    “Snoop D-O-Double-G” which you would know if you kept up with “good” music.

    And speaking of partying did you notice that our apartment smelled normal yesterday even though it was 4/20? I hope our neighbors are okay…

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