1000 Reasons Why I’m Single: Reason 2

Would you look at that? I decided not to wait another 234329348 months before posting again. I just had to tell y’all what had happened (yes, I am aware that was improper English but I say “what had happened…” all the time so let me flourish!). I was going to tell y’all about this last week but I really needed time to process, because this was some next level BS.



Yeah, remember how I told y’all about my date with “Mr. Steal Your Leftovers” (sung to the tune of  “It’s Mr. Steal Yo Girl”- Trey Songz)? So…apparently, I still hadn’t scrapped the bottom of the barrel when it comes to “no good” dudes. So if you want to feel better about your life, please stay tuned.



Y’ALL! I don’t even know where to begin with recounting this tomfoolery. To this day, I am still completely and utterly baffled that someone can be this LOCO. Either this man needs treatment for his undiagnosed schizophrenia or delusional disorder (I swear I only use my psych degree when it comes to dating. Le sigh!), OR he deserves a medal for being so bold in his lies. Let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?


A few weeks ago, I decided to not be lame and go be a 20-something year old…Actually let’s fast forward a bit. Y’all don’t need to hear about my thought process and the agony of choosing between “wash day” and “da club”, as I refer to it.

So, I’m at da club with friends when 1 of them points to these gentlemen in the corner. I’m being awkward and am glued to my phone but quickly glance in their direction. I’m thinking, “they’re definitely handsome but I’m definitely NOT bold enough to talk to them”. My friend Bohemien [sic] Debutante is a different story. She will befriend a brick wall and that brick wall WILL fall in love with her. She finagles her way to where they’re standing and out of nowhere we all strike up a conversation. I hear a Francophone accent so I ask them where they’re from. They respond: “Belgium”. They ask me if I speak French, I answer yes and from that point on, we just gelled. Somehow I end up talking to one of these gentlemen until 4:30AM.

We swap stories about our lives, what we do etc…I tell him what I do. And this is sort of when things start to go downhill.

He tells me that he’s a PhD student in computer science at Georgia Tech and that before that he was living in the Los Angeles area. He was working for Microsoft in LA and before that he lived in London, where he got an MBA. Prior to London, he lived in Finland and worked for Nokia. And before that, he did a Bac S (those of you familiar with the French system will know what that means) and obtained a perfect score.

“That sounds great girl!”

“I don’t see what the problem is. You’re just looking for a red flag”

“See! you can still meet decent men in these streets”



Observation #1: Homie was sounding MIGHTY accomplished for someone who claims to be 28. Is it impossible? No. Is it improbable? YES!

So either homie is LYIN’ about his accomplishments or he’s 55. Now, Black don’t crack but it might be a little hard to try to pass off for 28 as a 55 year-old.

Observation #2: Homie was real aggressive with trying to “get some” (avert your eyes mother). No matter how many times I re-iterated that “he ain’t getting none”, he kept trying.

Maybe homie thought that if he was more impressive than I’d be more willing to revisit my decision.

Anyways, we eventually part ways for the night (well I guess morning by that point). I’m real skeptical of his stories but I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean…it’s totally possible that on top of all that, he’s a great songwriter and recently sold a song to Anthony Hamilton, that may or may not make it unto the next album. Right?!?!?! Because why would someone come up with such an elaborate lie?

Exactly Jon! Exactly!

Exactly Jon! Exactly!

Now, I wish I could tell you that this was the end of it. But nope. It gets worse (or better for entertainment purposes).


Despite my reservations, my friend convinces me to keep talking to him.

Sunday – We talk and for the most part he seems legit. He tells me he went to church, made lunch and is doing homework. See girl, you were too quick to think the worst. 

Monday, during the day – We text back and forth. I google him (Yes I did and I am not even a little bit ashamed to admit this). Nothing comes up. I try alternative spellings. Still nothing. I check the GaTech directory. Nada. This is definitely strange. My friend tells me that he’s a computer science student and could have possibly deleted his online presence. I don’t really buy it.

Monday night – Me: “So what are your thoughts on social media? For, against, indifferent?” Him: “I don’t do social media. I deleted all traces of me from the internet”. Me (in my head): “That’s real convenient” but what I actually say, “Interesting. I guess I know a few people who feel really strongly about not being on social media as well”

At this point, I just want to scream: “Imma need you to stop f%^$#*&’ lying bruh. Confess now and I probably still won’t talk to you, but don’t drag this out“. But he didn’t so the saga continues.

Tuesday night – Him: “I spent my day TA-ing 2 classes and reviewing my colleagues work on computational modeling”. Now most people would have thought, “oh, he really is a PhD student”. Unfortunately, I’m not most people so I asked him questions about the classes he’s teaching and his modeling (he probably didn’t realize that part of an epidemiology degree is learning how to create models. Sike sucka!). He fumbles, doesn’t really answer and changes the subject. He was really good at diversions. Most of the time, I would make a mental note but let him believe that he succeeded. At this point, I was in too deep. I had to figure out WHY he was lying.

Wednesday – Time to gather evidence. It’s one thing to think that his story about being offered a scholarship to play basketball is bullshit, it’s another to catch him in his lies. I ask a few confirmed GaTech students to look him up in the online directory. They have access to detailed information because they’re students at the institution. What do you think they found?

Wednesday night – I’m still bidding my time and seeing what lies he’ll tell next. Somehow we start talking about past relationships. And ladies and gents, here’s the kicker! At this point, his stories were still batshit crazy relatively harmless until this very moment:

-“My last relationship didn’t really end. She died.”

-“I’m sorry. Do you mind me asking what happened?” (because clearly I thought what we are all thinking at this point. He might have had something to do with it)

-“She had cancer. I knew she was sick when we got together but I was going to be brave and face this with her. Ultimately, she got really sick and passed”

Me at first

Me at first

Then I had to go 'head and sip my tea

Then I had to go ‘head and sip my tea


Do you know how low that is? And obviously I can’t be the asshole who questions him on it. Who says: “I don’t believe you. Prove that your gf died of cancer“?

At this point, I’ve had enough. There are way too many lies and I need concrete proof that homie is lyin’ through his teeth. We have a date on Friday and I’m definitely not finna go on no date with a murderer/pathological liar etc…

Thursday – Remember those people I had check out his story about being a PhD student at GaTech? Well if you guessed that they came back and told me that there’s no record of anyone by that name then DING DING!

Now, I’m a scientist so I did my due diligence. I checked other schools in the area. Zilch.

Any record of anyone by that name at various business schools in London? Nope

That engineering consulting firm he “founded”? It exists but the information doesn’t add up. His name is nowhere to be found on any of the websites, it’s not a London-based company and Nokia didn’t buy it.

Friday (D-day) – I finally have concrete evidence that doesn’t make me sound like a creep/stalker, albeit with great detective skills. At this point, he’s texting or calling frequently. He even let slip that he’d wait 3 weeks to ask me to be his gf. DAFUQ homie?!?!? I’m clearly gathering evidence to catch you trifflin’, lyin’ ass. Ain’t nobody tryna be with you? I casually text him: “Hey, totally slipped my mind. Do you go by your middle name at school? I was hanging out with some GaTech friends (some of which are in the computer science program too) and I was so excited to tell them about you. They had never heard of you though. Weird, right??!?”

Now, it may seem like I’m giving him an out with the middle name thing, but we’d discussed ad nauseam the fact that he doesn’t have any middle names.

That's right MOFO!

That’s right MOFO!

Y’all wanna guess what happened next?


But for real ladies, this is why you should ask questions. Google is your friend. Also, Liam Neeson ain’t got nothin’ on me!


1000 Reasons Why I’m Single: Reason 1

(from Dr. WHO)

(via Dr. WHO)

I’M BACK!!!!

Oh, so you just gonna pretend that you weren’t gone for 45 years?!”

I mean…must we go through this song and dance every time? Haven’t you come to expect inconsistency and absolute laziness from me? If not, I think we’ve figured out the problem. You should lower your expectations. Also, Ebola!

But yes, now that we’re solidly middle-aged, let’s jump back into the swing of things. I’ve missed ranting on here or sharing my awkward adventures. I’ve got some great material for the bus chronicles (courtesy of Chicago’s CTA. Thank you ma’am for sharing your story about “DUIs, unfaithful negros and trifflin’ hoes”). We also have some dating stories and general life advice for y’all coming up (hint: If he’s dating someone else, odds are, he’s into them and not you). So stay tuned!

(via Family Guy, and that is exactly how you should feel. Otherwise, why are we even here?)

(via Family Guy, and that is exactly how you should feel. Otherwise, why are we even here?)

For today, let’s discuss people who don’t know how to act right on dates.


Since moving back to Atlanta, I’ve been putting myself out there and going on a lot more dates than I ever have in my life. I’ve even resorted to *gasp* online dating. Y’all know the single struggle is real. Plus I’m not gonna lie. It might be nice to not awkwardly hug myself when ringing in the new year.  Unfortunately, I’m quickly learning that Atlanta has a plethora of “ain’t shit” individuals that may leave your girl a 50-year old dog lady (not a fan of cats).

(via Real Housewives of Atlanta)

(via Real Housewives of Atlanta)

Deep breath in…Let’s take Mr. N. for example.

N. had such potential. He understood the immigrant struggle, spoke more than 1 language and overall seemed like he had some common sense. Yeah…boy was I mistaken. Now before we get into this story, let me say a few things:

  1. It’s the 21st century and women can pay for their own meals. I pay for my meals almost every day. However, I like a free meal just as much as the next person and I  don’t think I’m setting feminism back by wanting someone to pay for my dinner. (To y’all reading this, please note that I will accept free meals from all persons and it does not have to be a date, wink wink)
  2. Short dudes need love too. But don’t pretend like I’m not gon’ notice when you missing an extra 4-5 inches.

With that being said, let’s get into my first and only date with N.

After  2 weeks of LONG phone conversations (this dude could talk your ears off. Had to pretend that my phone died once to cut the conversation because he just kept talking), we decide to meet up for dinner on a Sat. I suggest pho (it’s a Vietnamese noddle soup) since we both lived within a reasonable distance of this Vietnamese restaurant. He agrees and we set a time.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a “minimal effort required” type of gal. Makeup is expensive and complicated. I don’t know how to contour, highlight, clown, strobe or whatever else is popular these days. This face is never “beat” as the kids say. But since this was a first date, I decide to try a little and put on some lipstick (those Mac tubes are $16-$20 a pop, so that’s not something to be taken lightly). I get my twistout looking right, put on a cute dress, give myself a pep talk: “You is kind, you is smart and you is important” and head out the door.



I arrive at the establishment a few minutes early. As I’m gathering myself and making sure that my breath don’t stink, I see a car pull up right beside me. I deduce that it’s N, turn off my engine and step out of the car. He does the same. We come around to give each other a hug and I experience the first (and certainly not last) disappointment of the night. What could have gone wrong so quickly you ask? Well friends, it so happens to N’s forehead reached my bottom lip (I may be slightly exaggerating but you get the point).

Now kids, before you decide to write the NFSPA (National Fun-Sized Persons Alliance- P.S: I made that up) and complain about me, remember the aforementioned disclaimers . My issue wasn’t his height but the fact that I was misled. Dawg, how you gon’ tell me you 5’11” when you 5’6″? Did you think I wouldn’t notice or did you forget to wear your pumps to make up the difference? Either way, I was left awkwardly trying to bend my knees to make sure that his face wasn’t hugging my boobs (no comment! My mother reads this blog).

Anyways, after disappointment #1 and an awkward hello, we walk into the restaurant. He tells me that he’s never had pho before and that he’s not super hungry. I suggest splitting a meal. He agrees. The waiter comes, I order and we wait for our food to be brought out. We awkwardly try to make small talk and then he says: “I’m uglier in real life than in my pictures.”

(Courtesy: NBC's New Girl)

(Courtesy: NBC’s New Girl)

I mean…pero like, how am I supposed to respond to that? I was perfectly fine ignoring the obvious but you had to go and state it. And now I have 2 choices. Either be an asshole or be a liar and there’s no winner in this scenario. Seriously dude?!?!? We all have our insecurities when meeting new people but don’t reveal your deep-rooted self-esteem issues during the first 5 minutes of conversation. Was I worried that he found me unattractive? Absolutely! Was I going to share that? Probably, but in a more roundabout and casually evasive way. There’s a method to slyly asking people what they think of you and apparently he was not well versed in that artistry.

In case you were wondering, I chose option C. Say nothing and hope he moves on. Our food comes. More awkward small talk. He tells me that he doesn’t know how to use chopsticks so I try to teach him. It’s not working but Rome wasn’t built in a day. Eventually, I start asking more thoughtful questions because I’m getting tired of talking about allergy season.

– “So, what was it about me that intrigued you?”

– “Well actually – I don’t know if I should say this- I don’t typically message Black women. But you didn’t seem Black to me” (Hint: If while you’re saying something, you think/say “I don’t know if I should say this”, stop talking right then and there.)



– “Hum…what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

– ” I dunno…like you didn’t seem Black Black. Like, you weren’t ghetto or anything. I don’t know. Maybe I was also driven by past experiences”

(From The Wizard of Oz)

(From The Wizard of Oz)

*Squints really hard to keep from calling individual moron*

“I’m sure you think that was a compliment but it’s actually problematic. So ghetto = Black and not ghetto = non Black? Blackness isn’t monolithic (inside joke) and associating being well-spoken to not being Black is messed up”

He nods and says: “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I want to respond: “I’m definitely right”, but at this point, I’m kinda over this date. We both put our utensils down. The server comes around and asks us if we want a to-go box, he says yes and goes to the restroom. I sit at the table and wait for him to come back. He comes back and looks at me and says “Are we ready to go?”. I acquiesce but say that we have to pay for the bill. I get a blank stare from him. It is now dawning on me that N. is waiting for me to pick up the tab. I say nothing, gather my belongings, hand my card to the man behind the register and internally shake my head. I grab my receipt, he grabs the leftovers.

(The Daily Show)

(The Daily Show)

That’s right! He took the leftovers of the meal for which he paid 0%. The audacity! Plus, I thought you wasn’t that hungry?!

In the parking lot, he asks me if we can hang out tomorrow. I tell him that I have to wash my hair and that I won’t be available (as a woman with natural hair, that’s not technically a lie). He tells me to text him, gets in his vehicle (again, with MY leftovers) and drives off. Needless to say, there was no second date. I was even more pissed that I wasted a good twistout and expensive lipstick on this fool!