Women Stay Misremembering

I've been swerved, curbed, carried, friend-zoned, or whatever you kids are calling it these days. Thank God I have more victories than defeats. 9 out of 10 times, my wins are kind of hazy, unless of course there's some epic chain of events that takes place to be blogged about at some later date. Now, on the other hand, every single swerve I've encountered in my adult life is etched into my brain with a laser. I can tell you the time of day, the temperature, most recent Jordan release, what I had for breakfast, and what she was wearing at the time of said swerve. Every single time I've been curbed its retained in 1080p HD and Dolby digital surround sound. But, with you women recollection on these less than splendor-filled moments get really really muddled in retrospect.

I guess last week was "I want that old thing back" week for JD because at least 4 women I've once stuck my penis just called me out the blue to play catch up and shit. (This mainly happens because I've had the same phone number since Nextel was the hottest phone in the streets, and I had that trusty i1000 on my hip. Oh yeah, and choosing preseason is already in effect. That blog is coming soon.) Anyway, there's always some sort of discrepancy in the circumstances that caused our little thing to come to an end. And by "some sort of discrepancy" I mean "a total fucking fabrication". So of course I had to do my research to make sure this just wasn't a freak occurrence, and wouldn't you know it: 6 homie testimonies and 8 more friend-zoned chicks later, my suspicions were confirmed. Yep, these women were definitely telling HER-story and saying fuck the facts. I'm not about to break into every single account; I'll just share the most interesting re-creation of what transpired.

Let's girl call her Girl 3 because she called 3rd. I'm super busy in the office, and I'm not that motivated to think up a fake name. Sue me. Ok first thing first this is how we stop getting up. I stopped talking her calls because she came over to my house unannounced on 3 different occasions, and she asked me to co-sign on a car. Seriously, she legitimately popped at my front door 3 different times (twice I wasn't there) talking about, "I'm at the door come let me in". The straw that actually broke the camel's back came 2 days after the last pop up visit when she called me on a Saturday morning begging me to take her to a car dealership. Short story shorter. I took her, she got declined for the loan and then she broke down in tears begging me to co-sign on the car. I left her at the dealership. I didn't call her, and she didn't call me (not that I would have answered). That was 3 years ago.

And now for HER-story

After the regular: "How've you been." "How's the kid," and complex questions that ultimately translate into "Do you have a girl or are you fucking anybody steadily?", she voluntarily breaks into the demise of us.

Girl 3 - You know why we never made it anywhere?
JD - Life? (I'm interested so I don't even interrupt her with the truth plus saying "life" is like the safest empty answer ever)
Girl 3 - Yes, that plus you also had too much going on.
JD - Going on like what? (Because she upped my empty response with another empty response and flipped put the blame on me. Touché. Bitch, touché.)
Girl 3 - You were just unavailable when I wanted you the most.
JD - Huh? (And by "huh" I meant, "Oh like when you popped up at my house, and I wasn't home.")
Girl 3 - You know you were always busy and didn't have time for me so I just stopped calling and you didn't call either.
JD - Oh ok. (And by "oh ok" I meant, "And all this time I thought you didn't call because I left you are Darcars on St Barnabas Rd. Who knew?")
Girl 3 - Anyway, I was on your FaceBook page earlier today, and I forgot how much you used to make me laugh, then it made me miss you.
JD - Oh OK.
Girl 3 - You don't ever think of me?
JD - Send me a recent picture, and I'll call you right back.

She sent a nude. She'd fell off. I had to unfuck her. I deleted her from my FaceBook, and added her to my blacklist app.

Welp.
Jean DeGrate ain't said shit