Tuesday, October 3, 2017

That Time I Should Have Won Side Dude of the Year

Gather around boys and girls it’s story time with JD…

Technically I wasn’t actually the side dude. She was legit my homie. We’ll call her Teresa and yes; I was hitting Teresa on occasion throughout the span of a couple of relationships. And by occasion I mean 5 times tops. One time was exclusively out of curiosity of what that mouth might do. Ok story within a story time…

I was kind of dating girl called Sunday. I called her Sunday because I only saw her on Sundays and by only seeing her on Sundays I meant I’d come over to her house and fuck. Sunday was a pioneer of this internet stalking shit. She literally befriended every one of my female on social media. It sounds bad but back then it was like 60 in comparison today’s 2400 or so. Somehow, someway Teresa and Sunday became phone buddies and they were discussing skin care technics because Teresa has flawless skin. Anyway Sunday erupted with laughter out of the blue and exclaimed “Bitch you crazy”. Sunday turns to me and said “She says she keeps her skin clear by swallowing at least once a week”. Needless to say my interested was peaked and I immediately plotted my exit to see what that mouth does. You don’t need all the details, but I left Sunday’s house and 45 minutes later I was seeing what that mouth did. It was wonderful by the way.

Ok back to the story…

Boyfriends hate me. The only boyfriend in the history of my females having boyfriends that didn’t hate me is the homie Tangie’s husband, Russell. Anyway Teresa’s current boyfriend was really uncomfortable with her having a male best friend which is ironic for two reasons; first I didn’t have sex with her during their relationship and second he had a female best friend. On the flipside his female best friend was unattractive as in the moment I finish writing this blog I’m unfucking her unattractive. Teresa cooked up this whole scheme of me “talking” to her boyfriend’s best friend; let’s call her Ant because she kind of looks like an ant. Basically I’d go out on a date or two with Ant and her boyfriend would stop feeling uncomfortable. I agreed to this arrangement prior to seeing Ant. Upon meeting Ant face to face I threw the whole plan the fuck out the window.

Teresa pulled up on me with Ant to make the introduction when I was chilling around U Street at a random bar and BOY there was much to be desired. It’s no way I could be out in these streets with this young lady. Ant was brown skin slim built with big breast and no ass at all but that face was an absolute deal breaker. A total lack of ass is a hard mountain to overcome on any woman and when you accompany it with an unpretty face; nah son. Ain’t no mother fucking way. I needed a plan B. I was going to put her in a “phone bone and text her to death” type of situation. I’m a beast on the phone. I’m a fucking professional conversationalist. (If you’ve ever been on the phone with me for longer than 20 minutes you’d know that I’m gifted.) We exchanged info then Ant and Teresa headed on their way. I walked back into happy hour and tried to drink the image of her face out of my head.

Anyway… the next day I started operation chatterbox. I’m telling you this; I’m charming as fuck when I put my mind to it. For about 2 weeks I had her crying laughing and hanging on my every word without even hinting at a date or any sort of face to face interaction. I was ready to do a victory lab because I heard no new gripes about the friendship between Teresa and me. It was to the point that Teresa would hit my line and shoot the shit with me while her formally jealous boyfriend was sitting on the couch next to her. Mission accomplished right? Wrong. In week 3 of our usually cool and casual conversations became instantly littered with “so when am I going to see you” and my hand was pushed. I tried to duck and dodge it but she wouldn’t let it die; I was really going to have to jump on this grenade. BLOWN.

Since I was backed into a corner I set it up for a Netflix and chill type of situation well after sundown. I intentionally lined it up on the day the crew was celebrating one of the homies birthday so I could already be on some day drinking shit. I was sipping from 4p right up until she pulled up at 10p. I had a bottle in the house for her and a movie lined up. The plan was to have her come over, throw the movie on liquor her up then we’d both pass out. Nope; it didn’t play out that way. We never discussed her hidden talent of drinking like a member of a biker gang. I had a 5th of Goose and she was going shot for shot with me and I was already halfway done. I probably made it 2 thirds into the 5th before I was staring at the inside of my eyelids. I wake up to her reaching into my pants whipping my man out. My intent wasn’t to smash; I swear it wasn’t, but she started in with the head and she wasn’t half bad. She was no Teresa but it kind of sobered up me; I wasn’t anywhere near 100% lucid but my dick was 150% ready. On everything I love I normally mail it in with chicks I’m not digging, but I’m going to do like Jamie Fox and blame it on the liquor because I balled her ass up in that bed. Twice. She creeped out like 3a with a possible limp and I woke up to the meanest hangover several hours later. About 3p when I finally started to get my appetite back and my life in order; this ugly broad had the audacity to send me a selfie caption “I had fun last night”. I threw my phone across the room then jumped up and started punching the air like Trey in “Boys in the Hood” after Ricky got shot. I was mad at her. I was mad at myself. I was mad at Teresa. I was mad at Grey Goose and my head was hurting. I maintained my professionalism and tucked Ant back into the conversation only zone and eventually phased out talking to her completely over a 4 week span. No awards or plaques came for my sacrifice on that dark night. I still can’t watch documentaries about ants to this day and Teresa broke up with dude like 6 weeks later.

Not all heroes wear capes
Jean DeGrate has spoken

Saturday, September 23, 2017

You Are Ideal Side Dude Material

Like 10 days back I dropped the “You Are Ideal Side Chick Material” and I promised the male version. So here we go…

As previously stated the criteria that makes for a good side dude and a good side chick differs so greatly that I couldn’t do it in one blog. This is especially true because men would absolutely unequivocally repeatedly fuck a woman they wouldn’t be seen with in public let alone legitimately date. Women on the flipside rarely sleep with men they wouldn’t entertain in a dating capacity. In most situations a guy that’s an ideal candidate for a side position can very much flourish in Cuffing season as the main attraction. Let’s get into it.

If you appear to be a player/hoe
Women love these player/hoe types of guys as long as they aren’t the ones being played and/or cheated on. They’ll guard their hearts and open their legs while maintaining a real relationship at home. The guy that she comes home to is the man that’s good for her but the player guy just does something to her that she can’t get from her man. He’s the dessert to her main course and who doesn’t like a little dessert here and there?

If you publicly have a girlfriend and appear to be in a happy relationship
Women are petty. They like to know a guy isn’t shit. They get a kind of high from it. I used to know a girl that went to her side dudes wedding with her live in boyfriend as her date. SAVAGE. They’re not out to ruin a happy home (no Kevin Hart) just put a smudge or two on the windows. Petty shit aside; being in a relationship with something to lose makes for an excellent long term side dude and alleviates most confusion and feelings.

If you’re the work husband
Being a work husband is often a thankless job and a lot of ground work is done in an ultimately fruitless endeavor. He’s always one after work happy hour away from getting a room at the Marriott. He’s always one heated at home argument away being led into the supply closet for an afternoon delight. So close ; yet so far away. Sometimes and this is a rarity; the work husband lands into the side dude position and it’s fucking sweet. The work husband side dude has 40 hours of access to that pussy while getting paid Monday thru Friday.

If you’re the available friend that hasn’t tried it
If she calls he answers. If she text he responds within 5 minutes. It’s Wednesday at 4:59pm and she wants to hit happy hour he’s down. He’s the always there to do something fun last minute when her girls flake out and remain cool about it. He always there on the other end of the phone to kill some time. All of that somehow that translates into break in case of emergency dick; because she’s been wondering why you haven’t tried it and what it might be like. Unless he’s trash it won’t be any chance of putting that genie back in its bottle.

If you’re tricking
You ever heard the saying “whatever you’re not willing to do, someone else is”? Sure you have. That person is the trick. Typically he’s not best looking guy or the smoothest but he has that bag and he’s willing to share it for a sexual favor or two. Think of that old dude in “Set it Off” that gave Jada the strokes for little brother's tuition money. It’s a few things that her man isn’t willing to do or isn’t in a position to do and the trick is waiting because these bills ain’t gonna pay themselves.

If you’re popping
(Popping – in social or economic position to move more freely than most) Women typically cheat up financially and/or aesthetically to the type of guy they would like to date but probably wouldn’t date them in return. Think of your auntie drooling over Denzel Washington. Would your auntie date Denzel if giving the opportunity? Yes she would; leaving a “Dear John” letter for your uncle and cousins. Would Denzel date your auntie? Probably not; he’d probably call security on her if she evaded his personal space. The sky is not the limit. Women will continue to date guys in their perspective “leagues” and keep an ongoing dick appointment with the guy that’s popping. It’s like groupie logic but watered down for everyday people.

You just might be A1 side dude material
Jean DeGrate has spoken

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

The Long Game 2017: 5 Weeks

I wrote the original version of this blog almost 5 years ago and from the male perspective. It could use a bit of tweaking because the dating game has changed radically (not really but jive like a little bit) and it should have been for everybody from the start. Let’s get into it…

Here’s how dating typically goes…

Boy sees girl he wouldn’t mind sticking his penis in. (Yes that’s how it goes every time. This is not debatable men approach women because they want to fukk them. Never in the history of man has a guy been eyeing a young lady from the other side of the room thinking “I bet she’s a dope person; I should go over there and get to know her”.) Boy sends girls a friend request/approaches her at the bar/slides in them DM’s and shoots his shot. Swish. Girl likes boy's appearance and the things he has to say then decides to give him some attention. Boy and girl begin to text and talk (but mainly text) then shortly after they set up a date. Boy takes out girl, feeds her, entertains her, and tells her his funny stories. Boy does his best to win girl over in pursuit of that puzzi. Boy will continue you to recycle this formula until…

A. Boy captures the box
B. Girl curves boy
C. Boy exhausts his resources (time, energy, money) or…
D. Boy starts to like girl

This typically all transpires during a 2 to 4 week span and options A B and C are normally a waste of time. The truth it’s really hard to gauge the level interest in a stranger in 3 weeks during the interview stage of dating. Everybody is on their best behavior, every outing their wearing the first day of school outfit and keeping all their skeletons in a locked closet hidden behind a dresser. New people are the most interesting people. New people always have all these adventures and all these refreshing views on the world uniquely based on their personal perspective. New people are so dope.

So instead of meeting somebody new on Tuesday and out on the town that Friday we should slow it down. Ladies you can save some time and some undue mileage on the puzzi and fellas on the flipside you can save on these $200 dates. Everybody wins with this approach just stick with me for a second.

Rule 1 – Don’t store numbers

Seems senseless right? If you’re really clicking with somebody they’ll always be in the top of your call/text log. If you have to swipe up 3 or 4 times to find this person clearly the chemistry isn’t there. Plus if you’re in frequent contact the number will start to look familiar; you might even accidently memorize it.

Rule 2 – Actually talk on the phone and often

I know this concept sounds wildly outdated but a long long time ago phones were actually for talking. Sounds crazy right? It’s true though if you go to the Smithsonian this weekend you can catch an actual exhibit of cavemen using phones that didn’t have text nor internet capabilities. Conversations move so much faster on the phone. 30 minutes of intense texting is only really 3 minutes of phone time. Communicating without emojis may seem odd for the first few conversations, but trust me there are words in the English language to accurately express the upside-down smiley face. This will also accelerate the Q&A stage of all those ultimately pointless ass interview questions. You’d be surprise how fast you can figure out if you like someone or if they are full of shyt when you’re left with their words and no other distractions.

Rule 3 – Don’t go out with them within 35 days

The first 3 weeks are typically all bullshyt. All smiles and laughs and exchanging dope memes and YouTube links and shyt, but it ain’t real. Week 4 is typically when shyt starts getting real (kind of like the NFL when you can tell if your team is going to the playoffs or not). When you find out they like pineapples on their pizza and only eat the flat part of chicken wings because those are trash people. When you find out they are 30 but their mom had to co-sign on their car and apartment. You start seeing the chinks in the armor and that gives you a clearer view of the person outside of all the cool shyt they’ve presented beforehand. If they make it to the end of week 4 you should be working your to setting up an outing because evidently it’s more than a physical attraction popping here. It’s a vibe and shyt.

What are you on Saturday a month from now?
Jean DeGrate has spoken

Friday, September 15, 2017

You Are Ideal Side Chick Material

*Yes there will be a side dude material blog dropping before my DM’s start going off. I’ll probably drop it sometime next week. Stay tuned tho.*

The criteria that makes for a good side chick and a good side dude varies so greatly that I can’t even put it into one blog. I tried. It didn’t work. I deleted the whole thing and went back to the drawing board. So here we are.

Unfortunately, all you single ladies aren’t up to be cuffed this season or at least cuffed by the type of guy you would rather be snowed in with. Life be lifeing and shydd. Fortunately, there is always space on team side chick. Being a side chick never goes out of season. I know of a guy that went thru a wife and 2 girlfriends whilst keeping the same side chick through them all. That situation actually ended really badly; yeah that was a terrible example so pretend you didn’t read that, but side chicks are a valuable commodity and if you play you lane it’s some perks but that’s another blog for another time. Let’s get into what we came here for…

If you own several children AND you’re poor
Define poor you say? If you buy the iPhone X you’ll have to cancel Christmas is an accurate depiction. Poor women with multiple people that climbed out her vagina solely in their care aren’t exactly ideal girlfriends. Plus being snowed in with her team of crumb snatchers might be a slight notch down from freezing to death in a blizzard because kids are terrible people. This is especially true when you don’t own those kids. These women almost never have babysitters so taking her and the litter out to eat which could get pricey. On the flipside they are up for entertaining at home well after their children’s bedtime which tucks them firmly into the side chick zone.

You work nights and or crazy hours
Most people work a 9 to 5. You don’t believe me? Rush hour exist. I rest my case your honor. If you’re on the clock during vampire hours you need to find somebody else working vampire hours. If the potential bae gets off work at 5p and you have to be on the job at 10p that’s just enough time to halfway watch a movie on Netflix and fuck. Your life set up is great for lunch time sex, before work sex, and hooky sex but not much else.

You’re ugly
There’s somebody for everybody? Yeah that’s a lie. Every time an ugly chick lands herself in a legitimate relationship an angel gets her wings. It’s in the bible right between God being cool with slavery and telling folks not to eat shrimp. Amen. Despite this new found level of bravado ugly women tend to display men still ain’t checking for them. BUT… men will fuck pretty much anything and ugly women definitely fall under the category of anything. If you’re a not so attractive woman that’s down to fuck then it’s plenty of men willing to visit you in the wee hours of the night after the club with a fifth of Patron and beef patties from 7-11 on deck.

You’re a dot com thot
You IG “models”, Snap Chat divas and FB attention whores out here living for likes that never actually turns into a check are a special breed of woman that’s extremely hard to take seriously. Your titties and ass are always out and your Cash App info is in your bio. You’re probably not a hoe but it’s not worth the gamble. You’ll make a much better fuck buddy in a no strings attached type of situation than you would with an actually girlfriend title and having to witness the world thirst over you.

You have a reputation
And by a reputation I mean you’re a hoe. You’re a hoe; it’s common knowledge you’re a hoe. Your mileage comes up in your HoeFax. You’re not Kim K and the dudes you run into aren’t Kanye. So until you move to Atlanta, where hoes go to retire, you’re either going to take a sidechick position or deal with a dude from out of town that doesn’t know any better.

Act quickly positions on the better rosters are filling fast
Jean DeGrate has spoken

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

The Jaded Good Guy

There are two types of good guys in the world…

First we have the genuine good guys. The guys who are good-natured because that’s who they are from head to toe; they are the good Samaritans, the gentlemen and the beacons of chivalry. They do the right thing for the sake of doing the right thing. Unfortunately we aren’t gathered here today to speak on those fine men carved out of the highest grade of moral integrity.

Nope.

Today we are here to talk about the other good guys. The guys that move the way they move to receive a certain response; a prize that exceeds the “that a boy” pat on the back. The “if I do XY and Z then woman should like me” good guys; the pseudo good guys. Honestly I love those guys. They’re the best type of guys because they are so fucking jaded.

Let’s get it started.

Somewhere out there is the “good guy” handbook; it contains all the required criteria to obtain good guy status. Loving his mother, keeping a job, paying bills on time, “respects” women, he’s good with his hands, has a good credit score, involved some sort of organization with other men of perceived high quality, gives spare change to the homeless and so on and so forth. He’s not trendy because he never wants to be mistaken for a new nigga; he’s never been to jail because it would jeopardize his good guy status. He doesn’t say or post racy things on social media because his family are his friends on Facebook. He always pays for dates because that’s what good guys are supposed to do. He’s been following the good guy guidelines waiting to receive his good guy blessings, and by blessings I mean a bad bitch that is sick of dope boys, fuck boys and playboys. He’s waiting for the bad bitch to recognize his goodness and realize he’s the man she never knew she needed then live happily ever after.

Pseudo good guys are perpetually attempting to date up, aesthetically speaking of course, on the good guy grading curve. “Good guys” rarely exceed a 6 out of a possible 10 rating. If a pseudo good guy is 4 the grading curve “should” allow him to successfully date 5, 6 and 7’s.  If he’s a 6 he “should” be able to bag 8’s and 9’s. You get the gist right? Right. Regrettably, it rarely pans out like that. Instead of landing themselves in a relationship; they more times than not end up in the friendzone, the play brother zone or even worst the temporary simp zone. (The temporary simp zone is when a female juices everything she can get out of man without compromising herself sexual, but of course this is only good for a limited time.)

And the problem lines here…

Even though history has taught us that women may not be the best judge of character they have been impeccably good at keeping pseudo good guys out of the pussy promise land.  These fugazi good guys typically come off creepy or disingenuous or both. Imagine seeing a grown man standing at the fence of a playground looking at the kids doing the Birdman hand rub. Ok not that creepy; but take that down about 4 notches and you’re locked on the pseudo good guy vibe. They try extremely too hard to win women over with their efforts but, lack charisma and overall personality. Their entire lexicon is a patchwork of sayings they assume will make women like them because they’ve seen it successfully used elsewhere. When the “copy and paste” vernacular accompanied by all their “good guy” credentials repeatedly fails to turn into anything fruitful they become bitter.  Pseudo good guys can’t see their flaws. They only have their checklist as a reference point and if they’ve followed the rules they can’t understand why they haven’t won. They question the integrity of women because they are good hard working men who are constantly looked over for men who they deem to be of less character and self-worth. You know, because bitches don't really want good men and shit.  In their eyes women keep choosing guys that leave them with broken hearts and turn them into single mothers. They’ll take the one story Mika told them about Andre from 3rd street that gave her a son and now he’s doing 140 years with the possibility of parole in 2064 and blankets it over every woman that’s turned them down. The pseudo good guy is jaded as fuck because bad bitches be choosing but they never choose him.

The pseudo good guy is really a fuck boy that never got in the game
Jean DeGrate has spoken

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

There’s Something about Molly

By now everybody has seen the latest episode of Insecure. Oh you haven’t? Then stop right now, go catch up and get back at me. I’ll be here. I’ll wait. I won’t but this blog will be here.

Now for the people up to date with the most recent episode (Hella Shook)… the Molly hive fell apart. The Molly hive is in shambles. I wanted to start a GoFundMe so they could get some professional counseling and consoling. But let me say this much Molly isn’t wrong. You may not approve of what she did but she’s definitely not wrong not even a little bit. Well maybe a little bit of wrong because she did invite the homie from “This Is Us” to the cookout then left in a fit of rage with tall lightskin (I know his name but I rather call him tall lightskin). Sometimes people get left places and Lyft exist, but other than that Molly didn’t do anything wrong.

Some of ya’ll probably don’t understand how we got here but that something about Molly is also something about a lot of us. The entirety of season 1 shows us Molly looking for love and failing horribly. Dating guys that match her fly and failing horribly. The one time she made a detour from that path she ended up dating a bisexual Enterprise employee. Right up to Sunday’s episode I didn’t understand her motivation. I couldn’t see why she was so hell bent on finding this perfect love and trying to force herself into these instant relationships. She was chasing the idea of marriage based on what she believed her parents have and that shit went up in smoke. We’ve all followed someone else’s lead to achieve desired results (that’s why exercise exists). I mean, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander right? Right.  (Quick side note; if you were born after 1985 you might not know that a gander is actually a male goose. I’m also bringing this saying back in 2018 so stay tuned.)

You’d be wrong though

People love to pretend to be happy. People love to hold up public appearances. People love to act like some shit is great when it ain’t. Beyoncé walked out of an elevator, where her sister had just beat up her husband, photo the fuck ready. Last year on April 20th you couldn’t tell a random black person that Jay-Z and Beyoncé weren’t the epitome of black love and we all love love. Three days later Lemonade dropped and turned the world upside down. Before you say your relationship goals weren’t Jay-Z and Beyoncé… You know what the fuck I mean. Stop tripping over semantics. There were the “it” couple. They were the best combination since ugly women and Instagram filters. Well Instagram came after but you know what I mean. When the façade broke down not only did the world look at them different the world moved differently. My PhD thesis paper will actually be titled “How Lemonade Pushed Side Chick Culture to the Next Level”.

See here’s the thing if you’ve been striving for a goal, denying yourself of certain pleasures; all in the pursuit of something that you abruptly find out doesn’t exist you’ll flip the fuck out. Especially if you’ve been following in the steps of someone you know and trust to achieve a goal you’ll feel betrayed. You’ll lash out, but most importantly you’ll say “fuck that shit” and pull a Molly. And by “pull a Molly” I don’t exactly mean sleep with a childhood friend that has an open marriage in rebellion against the marriage you thought your parents had but more like… Eating that cake when you find out your homie got her waist snatched in the DR instead of that "lemon water diet and 500 crutches a day" bullshit dream she been selling you.  If you have a Molly type of situation, the #HoeIsLife movement is always accepting new members because Molly ain’t broken no vows to nobody and marriage ain’t what it used to be.

Still team Molly
Jean DeGrate has spoken

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Story Time with JD - Stranger in the Dark

1st off I need to develop a sense of fear. (Ain’t going to be a 2nd but I just like saying 1st off; I also like saying “and another thing” when I never said a first thing. Fight me). Being fearless is going to get me killed and I’mma tell you how. Gather around boys and girls it's Story time with JD. I’ve said this before but I’m going to say it again… I live in the hood. The real hood. Cool? Cool.

I’ve leave the house before God wakes up on Sunday mornings to roll into the office. There’s no birds chirping, it’s still pitch black; it’s an excellent setting for a Jason Voorhees Friday the 13th style killing to take place. There are no houses or buildings across the street from my apartment; just woods and shit; which coincidently makes it a great place for Jason to appear from or a young lady dressed in all black. So as I’m walking to my car a women dressed in all black emerges from the shady woods and walks towards me. “Can you give me a ride to Capitol Heights? I’ll give you gas money.” Sure strange lady that just materialized from the darkness at 445am on a Sunday. What’s the worst that can happen? This would be a great time for a sense of fear to kick in and I go skrt skrt down the street but instead the hole in my face says “How far is that like 10 15 mins away? Cool. Get in.” She hops in and smells as if she had bathed in a combination of all flavors of those Bath & Body Works scented lotions. So she smelled like a stripper at the beginning of her shift; you know, before she picks up the scent of Newport smoke, old men and VS Hennessey. I cracked my window a bit.

JD – Which way are we heading? Suitland Parkway? 495?
The Girl (of course I don’t her name and it’s too early for me to be clever) – Take Suitland Parkway towards Pennsylvania ave.
JD – Bet
The Girl – How much do you want for gas money?
JD – I’m good
The Girl – Thank you so much

And I pull off. I pretty much live with my JBL wireless headphones in my ear. Doesn’t matter if I’m listening to something or not they’re in my ears from the moment I walk out of the door until I come back home. If you’re a soft talker I probably won’t understand shit you’re saying. This is relevant because unbeknownst to me she in the passenger seat having a whole ass conversation as we’re cruising down Suitland Parkway. I hear the slightest murmur and look over to see her lips moving then I removed my right earbud.

JD – What’s up now? I didn’t hear anything you were saying.
The Girl – Nothing. Nothing. I just got a lot going on.

Obviously something is “going on” if you’re asking strangers for rides in the dead of night like Uber doesn’t exist; I almost switched into Dr. Phil mode then the voice in my head said “Bro don’t open Pandora’s box”. I slipped my earbud right back into my ear. Now out of my peripheral vision I keep seeing her lips moving. I’m trying to block it out and mind my fucking business but, nope, I cannot not see it. She is chopping it the fuck up with herself over there. Yep this bitch is crazy. Odds were already leaning towards insanity but this was the absolute confirmation. Then I felt her arm touching my arm on the armrest. My car is pretty fucking big. Somebody once called me from the back seat to turn down the AC, so there is no good reason for any unintentional physical contact. So in classic sucker ass nigga fashion I just scoot my arm away from her creating some space like I’m not the king of my own fucking domain. Then she put her hand on my forearm. By the way she’s still deeply involved in her conversation with herself. My tombstone would read “Here lies a nigga that was tripping” because she’s probably about to stab me in my neck, then grab the wheel and send us both to a fiery death. But since you’re reading this guess who still alive? Now she’s massaging my forearm working her way down to my hand. I instantly abandon the death possibly to a move directly over to “is she about to try to fuck me”. I pull away and redirected her attention because we had just reached the light at Forestville Road and Suitland Parkway.

JD – (Pointing) We going through the light straight out to Pennsylvania or am I going to hit this left?
The Girl – Uhh… Make the left

I put my arm back down on the armrest and before I can even make the turn she grabs it again pulling it over to her side of the car. Now I’m thinking if she tries to put my hand down her pants or her shirt I’m going to have to punch in the face. I don’t hit women but I think I’m in a flexible gray area here, you know, because I don’t want to catch herpes on my pointer finger. Forever unclean. I redirect her attention again and pull away again.

JD – Hey hey hey put on your seat belt shorty

She puts her seat belt on and got right back to it. Is this my life right now? Is this really happening? I really have to work on my not giving a fuck when it’s not my turn to give a fuck. Then it popped into my head “if I’m going to Capitol Heights why the fuck are we in Forestville. I pull my arm away again for seemingly the 70th time (it was the 3rd) and grabbed my phone.

JD – What’s the address?
The Girl – (mumbling) 444 Noma Ave
JD – What?
The Girl – (mumbling still) 1444 Noma Ave
JD – (I felt like I was asking her why she was left off of Bad and Boogie) Huh?
The Girl – 1447 Nova Ave
JD - Bet

I plugged the address into Waze and we were 7 minutes out from an address that was only 6 minutes away from my home to start with. She was back to caressing my hand and having the convo with herself and I had spent 20 minutes driving around with a crazy person in the passenger seat. We pulled up and she slowly and reluctantly let go of my hand then thanked me again. The entire time I hadn’t taken a solid look at her but when got out of the car I looked over and shorty was phatter than a motherfucker. But she was way crazier than she was phat so that was a dead issue. She walked in the house and pulled off. Luckily no masked gunmen arose from the shadows to relieve me of vehicle and life and shit. My hand still smells like baby stripper.

No good deed goes unpunished
Jean DeGrate needs to stop picking up strangers