Still On Pause

Deondre was supposed to come thru last night.  He text’d me around 8pm saying his mother had taken his car and went to the salon.  Now, I know how certain black salons get down. 

On average, I spend 22 hours in the salon every month, so I didn’t trip at the excuse.  But I lost it when his ass told me he wasn’t going to show.  WTF?

I told him he could come later.  10pm turned into 11pm.  When Sex and the City came on and I saw Samantha giving some corporate guru fellatio, I knew she’d be the only one sucking any dick that night.

I sent him a text letting him know I was pissed and felt played.  No response.  I know Deondre well, so no response means he read it, realizes he fucked up, but knows I won’t do anything about it and went back to his existence.

Do I think he’s lying about his mom using his car?  No.  I actually believe him, but if he is lying it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t owe me anything except good sex, and right now he has breached our contract.

All I could do was pace around the house screaming, “Pussy Ass Nigga” at different octaves.  Faye sat on the couch and just laughed.

It was funny, but it wasn’t.  I had actually gone to the mall earlier that day to purchase lingerie.  I’m returning that bitch today. 

In hindsight, none of this surprises me.

I told my girl yesterday in class that I had a bad feeling about last night.  I was way too tired during class.  My head started hurting, and I was cramping out of nowhere.  It wasn’t time for my friend to visit so I knew something was up.

When it comes to Deondre nothing is promised.  He is the most unreliable man (other than my father) that I know.  Yet, I still deal with his ass.

I tolerate him because the man is sexy as hell and I’ve wanted his dick for too long. 

Faye told me the horrible truth last night.  That I was getting played.

PLAYED.

I have always been the player but not the playee.  Karma ia a bitch.