...So that email sparks a torrid romance. I always say how unique and telling written communication can be. I don’t know ‘bout you, but there’s just something about a guy who can conjugate his damn verbs AND spell check, that makes Mama tingle.
I digress…
So every day is a new set of emails…to the point where I find myself obsessed with receiving a response. All I feel at this point is that he’s really interesting, has funny things to say, and that there is an unpredictable depth to our conversations. Careers, family, friendships, the quarter-life crisis, travel, sports, music and relationships. Mostly music and relationships.
He balances the Dave Matthews Band with The Roots in his rotation (just like me)…and he is the first brotha I know who admits to enjoying James “NOT JT from Kool & the Gang, the White one that was married to Carly Simon, yeah THAT one” Taylor. And he does this with a straight face. I’m enchanted.
He’s in a long distance relationship that is not working. Just like me.
The emails continue, and the text messages begin. They are random and cute, and confuse me.
“Hey Wise…I’m at the Palace watching the Pistons play San Antonio [NBA finals game] on big screens. It’s so crazy here.”
“Hey Wise…I’m at this club and it’s soooo ghetto. Gotta get outta Dodge soon.”
I acknowledge at this point, that I have a crush on Ford, but I’m not putting forth that kind of vibe. I’m not flirting or even being suggestive. And neither is he, right? He’s a nice guy. This is what nice guys do…right?? They keep in touch…
Coincidentally, as Ford had mentioned to me at the picnic, he has a friend who is celebrating his bachelor party during 4th of July weekend in NYC…and of course he’s trying to find a place to stay…and of course, I invite him to crash at the crib.
Lemme say honestly, that at the time I’m mad nervous about him being in my personal space, but I sincerely have no intentions of making moves on dude. My “guy” [oh, before you say I’m wrong, I’ll get into my situation in a sec] would be out of town that weekend, so I see no harm…
I’m thinking Ford will spend most of the weekend with his boys, and that at most I’ll have to entertain him maybe on Sunday after his friend’s festivities are over.
Turns out, his boy only has plans for Saturday night, which leaves Ford and I together for most of Friday night, Saturday afternoon, all of Sunday, and Monday morning.
When he arrives I’m in the shower…but I have cold Coronas awaiting him, and hot pizza on the way. We spend that night talking, drinking and commenting on TV. Mostly talking. We finally fall asleep around 5 or 6. Get up a few hours later and tour the city for a while.
Walking off breakfast (which I pay for without compromise), he buys us fresh mango on 125th Street, across the street from The Apollo.
Come back to the crib, regroup, then head down to the Village for some sight seeing, and cocktails.
Grey Goose and cran…goes great with good convos…
Our honest and open discussions are like familiar melodies. We don’t have all the same perspectives or experiences, but there’s a peculiar harmony, a ying and yang about our ideas. I’m feeling it. And I’m not an idiot... he’s feeling something too.
So Ford goes out with his peoples that night…and is sending me little text msgs from the club. I end up falling asleep and not going out as my cousin and I had planned…and every time my ‘Nolia Clap’ ring tone goes off, and it’s him, I smile.
It’s becoming impossible to deny that there’s a connection…and when he gets in that morning, all drunk and adorable, we connect the dots…
PART 3
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7 comments:
oh my goodness, but i'm trapped inside this story! GET ME OUT!
i feel you on the something about a guy who can conjugate his damn verbs AND spell check, that makes Mama tingle. thing. oh, and don't let a brotha use a word that got ME looking for a dictionary...i'm jumping his stick shift RIGHT THERE.
this story is awesome, although it already sounds like it didn't turn out like i'd hoped. :(
"I always say how unique and telling written communication can be. I don’t know ‘bout you, but there’s just something about a guy who can conjugate his damn verbs AND spell check, that makes Mama tingle."
So noted.
"Walking off breakfast (which I pay for without compromise), he buys us fresh mango on 125th Street, across the street from The Apollo."
Take notes everyone!
"Our honest and open discussions are like familiar melodies. We don’t have all the same perspectives or experiences, but there’s a peculiar harmony, a ying and yang about our ideas."
Nice. Real nice.
Great exposition... I'll be back tomorrow for the climax. (I didn't mean for that to sound dirty, but oh well.)
I smell Troouble, Troouble, Troouble....Curiosity will get ya everytime time...Juts have sex already and get that shit out of the way.....lol
Thanks Nikki (compliments from great writers is always a treat)...at this point in life, most of 'em got kids, most of 'em are whores, most of 'em are still trying to recapture their youth. So it's truly the little things like the occasional "SAT word" that gets the panties wet nowadays. And if any of these words ever come out of his mouth in proper context: "Rumsfeld", "Dead Prez", "interest rate", or "passport", forget it!
Take me right here, right now. I'm a low expectation having muhfucca, what can I say.
You keeping up CNelly? :)
Yes you did, T.Cas...and I love it!
See Slishy, that's why you're not my crush. Don't be rushing me!
Grey Goose and cran…goes great with good convos…
You ain't never lied...
I can't wait to see how this story ends...I hope yall can get together...
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