Saturday, October 13, 2012

How I Fucked Up a Lesbian Friendship

Once about a time I had two lesbian homies. One white and one black; yep I had the box chopper market cornered. I still got Kerry but let me tell you how I fucked it up with my black lesbo homie, let's call her Pam.

Pam was the cousin and roommate of chick I was talking to back in 02 or 03 I can't be sure of the year, but I didn't have hair yet. The cousin and I never hit it off (in other words I never got the cheeks and come to think about it I can't even remember her name) but somehow Pam and I got super tight from me breezing through the crib just two times. I always wanted a black dyke homie because I thought she would make the ultimate wingman and the Lesbo God reached down blessed the kid.

She was cute
She wasn't so dyked out that you couldn't tell she was a pretty girl. She had pretty hair and kept in two strand twist. Slim build, she wasn't one of these old burly bull dyke joints but she stayed with baggy jeans, t-shirts and Jordans on like all the time so I couldn't see what that body was hitting on. She easily had more shoes than me but I guess that isn't hard when you wear little boys' sizes. With all that dykie swag she made a horrible wingman; the shit was laughable how bad shit went over when we hit a happy hour. After about 3 failed attempts to work her wingman charm we just hit up strip clubs or I'd swing pass her house or vice versa.

She was super cool
Whether we was getting wasted in the strip club or having competitions going back and forth at broads on Black Planet (don't judge me ya'll did it too) we used to have a blast. It was like she was a dude for real and she was always down to get up and do some shit. I'd hit her on the chirp because we both had Nextel and she'd never hit me with that "I'm broke" rap it was always "who driving".

And then came the picture
Even though we had only been kicking it for like 3 months it felt like we went back years. So one day we're chilling at her mother's house looking through old shoe boxes full of pictures and there it was. It was a picture of her but it didn't look shit like the little nigga I'd be kicking it with for the last months.

JD - Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the fuck up... who's that?
Pam - That was me at homecoming dance?
JD - what? Homecoming dance? Hand me that

...and there was Pam but a girly version of Pam in a tight blue dress with perky palm sized titties, flat stomach and a phat ass. Her hair was straightened and it reached the middle of her back. Slim was bad as shit and I was stepping all around town with her dressed in jerseys and shit looking like Queen Latifah's little sister. It took a good 5 minutes to calm the creep in me back down. I regained my composure, tossed the picture back in the shoe box and played it off cool.

And then shit got weird
Just so you all know I went above and beyond to avoid ever bringing up that picture or any reference to her being an actual girl. If anything I treated her more like a dude. Then out of nowhere and days later she bought up the picture...

Pam - You did say anything about me as a girl
JD - We still on that? Ain't like you're a girl anymore.
Pam - So you don't have nothing to say?
JD - You're my nigga and I saw of picture of you in a dress the shit was kinda gay.
Pam - You know I'm a woman. Are you just going to keep avoiding the question?
JD - You like girls so you already know you used to be a tough joint. You don't need me to co-sign that, but yeah I'd smashed the old you.
Pam - That's all you had to say I'm still the same person
JD - Nigga you probably wear underwear with dick holes in them.

She laughed and then I smoothly changed the subject.

And then shit got really weird
In retrospect I could have shut all this shit down because I saw it coming when she bought up the picture after the fact. Women want to be perceived as fuckable. That's why women in committed relationships come to club with their titties hanging out and shit. Yeah they are not there to hook up but they want niggas to push up on them, buy them drinks and make them feel pretty. As dykie as Pam was, I treated her like a man for months and that made her feel not so fuckable. So a girl I that I never shared more physical contact than a fist pound with suddenly became ultra physical. Now she wants to play fight. Now she wants to sit directly next to me on the futon. Now she wants to workout with me wearing tights, sports bras and shit. What did I do about all this? I allowed it because deep down inside (maybe not that deeply) I wanted to smash so I let my penis sit in the driver's seat.

And then she got naked
For this solid week or so of the slow pitch box tossing she was doing, I just merely played along and still kept her in that nigga lane. I might have called her "gay" a 1000 times during that period but I never crossed into move making zone. No accidently feel ups, no lingering embraces; I smoothly avoided all that dumb shit she was setting me up. I was pretty proud of myself because that blue dress image never left my mind. Then she raised the bar. One night we were supposed to head and she slid through in her work clothes with a duffle bag asking to use me shower. Sure, cool, why not? I didn't even check the toilet for shit stains just told her to head on up. About 5 minutes passes and Pam is yelling down the stairs "I need a towel". I run up the stairs, grab the least beat towel out of the linen closet and tapped on the bathroom door. The bathroom door swings open and she's standing there wearing panties and Nike ankle socks; all chill I manage to hold on to went out of the window. She went from dyking homie to fine naked girl inviting me into the bathroom with her. I'm far from Zane so if you were expecting some detailed sex scene description you may need to visit another blog. I fucked. We chilled. I fucked again. We also never made it out the house that night.

And somehow I expected everything to go back to normal
I'm stupid it like that sometimes. In my mind we fucked so she knows she's still fuckable and now that we got the dumb shit out the way she can go back to dyking and we can go back to being homies. Nope, nothing like that happened. She kept up with the touchy feely bullshit and was no longer interested in doing the shit we used to do. She pretty much turned into a girl and that wasn't what I signed up for. I did what any man in position would do I completely ignored her fucking existence and instead of saying "What the fuck son? Go head with that dumb shit". After about a week of sending her to voicemail and not answering her chirps (Nextel) she stopped trying to contact me. I saw her a few months back in passing she was still dyking and gave me the meanest ice grill once she noticed who I was. Welp.

Now I get straight women and make them homies. When they start acting all girly trying to put the moves on the kid and shit I already see it coming. I hit them with the swerve and get shit back on track.

If I left her unfucked we'd be all good
Jean DeGrate is down to one lesbo homie


1 comment:

  1. Let's just get one thing straight here. You can't call her a lesbian because she fucked you, a guy. By general rule and definition, she is a bisexual. Just saying. Correct yourself.

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