Last Night Beyonce saved my life.....

Friday night. Friend's 30th birthday bash. VIP.

While I was certainly having fun in VIP, I can never stay in one spot too long. Especially if I haven't walked around and thoroughly surveyed the crowd. I need to be amongst the people, even if that means becoming a dance floor contortionist to get through the crowd. So I make my way down from the VIP perch to mingle. Actually, first I went to tinkle, then I went to mingle. I make my way through the crowd and I get the hand pull. You know when you walk by and some dude you didn't even see grabs your hand and tries to pull you back over to him?? Yeah that. I gave the "sorry, charlie but I don't wanna dance with you" half grin, half head shake and kept it moving. As I'm making my way from the bar back to VIP I feel someone pluck me HARD on my bare arm. I turn around with the "what the fuck" fire in my eye, ready to curse someone OUT. That shit hurt!!!! LOL
When I turn in the direction of the pluck, I see a chick who looks just as stunned as me and then above her I see a dude laughing his ass off. That's when it registered. I know this fool.

Rewind 7 years. It was around early April. I was hanging out with my girls. All of us single and dressed to party. I don't remember why we were hanging out. Back then we didn't need a reason, we just partied alll the time (cue Eddie Murphy..hahaha). The party wasn't packed so my girls and I had plenty of room to do what we do best - dance to our hearts content and clown folks in between songs. I was standing in a circle with friends laughing about some clown that tried to holla at a friend by the bar, when this guy just stepped in the middle of the circle, grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the dance floor. My girls and I were stunned. Partly because he was so bold with it like he just knew I wouldn't turn him down. And partly, because he was so damn fine. He stood about 6'1", milk chocolate skin, bald head. His lips were kind of thin but his smile could light Times Square. His eyes were brown but there was a light in them, like the damn twinkle of Santa Claus. I was hooked. Right there on the dance floor. We danced for a while and then I excused myself to the ladies room. I was on my way to the ladies room when he approached but I wasn't going to let a little something like relieving my bladder of all the alcohol stop me from dancing with him. When I returned from the ladies room, I tried to walk back over to my girls but just as I took a step in their direction he was right there.

"Where you think you going??"

"Okay, Ike. Calm down. My name ain't Anna Mae. "

He laughed. I laughed. God I wanna see that laugh over and over and over.

We continued to dance until my girls were ready to leave. It was late. I gave him my number. He promised he would call. My girls and I left. We talked about him the entire walk from the club to the train. The more we talked about how fine he was, the more I felt like I would never hear from him again. Don't get me wrong, I've dated some pretty handsome dudes but no one like him. There was just something about him that unnerved my confidence.

He called the next day. And the next. And the next. And the next. We were always together. Laughing, joking, hanging out. He would meet me after work and we would just walk the city streets. I met his brothers and his cousin. He met my mom. Now that I think about it, he scored big when he went grocery shopping for my mother. LOL He was perfect in my 25 year old naivete. But I kept thinking, why me?

Almost 2 months after we met, I was going on vacation to Jamaica with some of my girls. The trip had been planned since January. And I was superexcited to go. He offered to take me to the airport to see me off. I stayed with him the night before my trip. I wanted to wear a linen pantsuit on the plane but it had gotten crushed in my suitcase. I asked him to set up the iron for me so I could iron my pantsuit. He took my pantsuit and painstakingly, ironed it for me. He put the Chinese dry cleaner to shame. The next morning he got up extra early, made me breakfast, and drove me to the airport. Since this was pre-9/11, he walked me to the gate while I waited for my friends. He left when my friends arrived. But not before giving me a big old kiss in the airport. I had my foot raised and everything.

Before we even got on the plane, my friends were sick of me. I had that McDreamy far off look. Through boarding, the safety exit speech, takeoff, flight, and landing, he was alll I wanted to talk about. Not about the amazing trip we were going on. Not about all the things we were gonna do (and NOT gonna do) when we arrived in Jamaica. Just him.

By the end of the summer, we were done. I found out some things that made me question his sincerity. And I got off the rollercoaster ride before it got too nauseating. He'd even gotten a nickname out of it- Manwhore. But looking back it wasn't that deep. When it was over, I wasn't crushed or devastated. There were no Haagen Daaz runs. No comfort found in a Krispy Kreme. I didn't even hate him. I just shrugged it off and moved on with the next. (Actually, I wrote him a letter and THEN moved on...hahahahaha) Ahhh the resiliency of 25.

How appropriate that I ran into him at a club since that's where our history began. After I smacked him (on his arm) for plucking me, we fell into this easy conversation like old friends do. He asked about my family (he always asks about my mom and my grandmother). I asked about his.
Damn, he's still as fine as ever. Remember when he............. Why can't I give him my number again????

I could tell by the look on the chick's face that had been standing there that she too was caught up in the rapture of him. But before the deal could be clinched, he was caught up in catching up with me. And then I remembered why manwhore couldn't have my number. He was still running an amusement park and the rides no longer amuse me.

Mission One. I'ma put this on/ when he see me in my dress/I'ma get me some (hey)

"Uh oh. That's my song. I'ma go find my girls. Take care."

And with that, I shimmied my way back to VIP. I saw him throughout the night. But for the most part, I kept my distance. At the end of the evening, I walked past with my coat on. He grabbed my arm.

"You're not gonna say goodbye."

"Ummm you're dancing. I didn't want to disturb."

"I'ma call you later." {sidebar: I've had the same cell phone number for about 10 years. it's a curse and a blessing. If he really does still have my number, that is definitely a curse. LOL}

"Don't bother. It was good seeing you though. Take care. Good night."

Ahhh the wisdom of 32.