There I was, like the many weekends before, chilling at Webster hall. This tall girl starts eyeing me. I’m thinking that she’s feeling me. However, the fact was that she must have read the sucker stamp on my forehead.
She comes over to me, and gets real close to me. She whispers in my ear, “buy me a drink.” Keep in mind, I’m not a fool; I know this girl is playing me. Even so, she was good at it; she wrapped me up in her web of lies. Her unsaid promises of a wild night to come, someone new, someone wild, someone fun. However, no, I was merely a supplier of the liquid she required to give all that to someone else.
Initially, I replied, “No. I don’t buy drinks for strangers.” The game was strong with this one, “My name is Susie. What’s your name? See, currently we are not strangers anymore.” This one is a career drink hustler, at present she’s running her fingers through my hair, playing with my neck. As much as I tried to deny that I was getting turned on, my body gave me away.
After sometime resisting her wits, and sexual provocations, my weakness got the best of me. So I purchased her a drink, it seems that I just don’t learn my lessons, remember the pizza guy? She got her drink, hung around me for perhaps two minutes, then disappeared into the arms of a very large black man. I guess she likes the big boys, and not the smaller, compact Boricua! LOL.
I wrote it off as just another experience in getting played. The hilarious thing is that as the night continued, I saw her a few more times. She came over, kissed me, and kept moving. I suppose that was her technique to keep this fish on the line!
I’d say that midway through the evening, she approached me again. She asked, “Hey pretty boy, can I get another drink?” Now I felt genuinely insulted, and wondered what kind of idiot does this woman take me for? I looked at her and replied “Seriously? You got me once. That’s all you get from me.” In her game, she tried to play me again, “I’m just giving you space so that you can get some girls. I’ll keep coming back to you though, baby.
“Yeah, I bet you will, when you want another drink. Not gonna happen, you haven’t even danced with me one time, yet you’ve danced with all these other guys, including friends of mine. You haven’t spent anytime with me, and I knew you were running game, yet I went along with it. However, that’s all you get out of me, please get out of my face. It’s not gonna happen.”
Realizing that I was serious, and fed up with her hustle, she walked away. Later as I was leaving she asked me for my number. I looked at her and said, “Why would I give you access to me? Nah, I’m good. Pass”
I never heard of or saw her again at Webster Hall. So, uhm, can I have a drink?
Growing Up Bronx
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