El amor en los tiempos del MARTA!

[Due to some…hum…complications shall we say, I’m going to have to postpone following up on the M series. My bad. But in the mean time, I have another bus chronicle story for y’all. Let me clear up the slightly messy predicament I find myself in and then I can pick up where we left off last week and finish that story. Enjoy!]

So now that I’ve made those vague statements, let’s dive into the latest bus adventure shall we. I was way too hasty in my dismissal of Atlanta and it’s potential for foolishness.

For those of you unfamiliar with Atlanta, MARTA is the Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority. It’s supposedly a service that one can use to take the bus or train. It’s also a place where you can find tumbleweaves (so many tracks lost too soon. RIP), get the number for a weave-ologist or experience unadulterated ratchness “unique” eccentricities.

Exhibit A:

Granted, this tumbleweave is at the station and not on the actual train or bus.

Granted, this tumbleweave is at the station and not on the actual train or bus.

Exhibit B:


Exhibit C:

urine detector

I’m not even sure what to address first here: the public urination that’s gotten so out of control that it warranted this sign OR this so-called “Urine Detection Device (UDD)”. Sir/Ma’am, I believe those are called eyes.

(Note: I’m not actually sure what the word ratchet means. I can’t use the Urban dictionary version because apparently it’s the new way of saying “ghetto” and I hate the implications associated with the use of the word “ghetto”. So, ratchet is more of a feeling than a concrete concept in my book. You’ll know it when you see it. And if you don’t, you’re probably exhibiting ratchet-like tendencies,  you’re a better person than I am. Also ratchet is not race specific for some basics who might not have known that.)

So you can imagine the characters that one meets while using the services of this fine entity. And I, ladies and gentlemen, had the pleasure of meeting my future BROKE sugar daddy.


Yes, you read that correctly.

In order for you to understand how he  we came to that arrangement, I must explain our courtship.

I was headed to a BBQ and since my car was still in transit from L.A, I decided to take the bus. When I got on the bus to pay my fare and heard a voice in the back yell: “Ooooohhh…yes..(smacking lips sound) sweetie, I’ll pay your bus fare“. Naturally, since he is broke (which I only found out later on), this was more to express a sentiment than anything else. He only said it after I had successfully paid my fare. I sat down. Like a lion eyeing his prey, he looked around to calculate his next step. He moved to the row across the aisle to make his move. And boy did he impress me.

Below is the breakdown of the highlights of what really made your girl fall head over heels.

His opening line: “You shouldn’t have paid for the bus. Pretty people don’t pay for things. Only ugly people pay for stuff.”

Right off the bat he’s telling me that he believes I am attractive. Plus, he wants to me to be relieved of all financial burdens. I’m not sure who judges who the ugly people are and whether there’s an ugly-to-cost ratio but I want to know. Alas, I couldn’t ponder for long because he then hit me with this lovely 1,2 combo.

Metaphorically of course.

Metaphorically of course.

– Damn, you smell good. You showered today, didn’t you? 


Oooh, you got nice teeth. Are those your real teeth?

Now, you may be thinking, “how did he smell you?” To which I respond, “You are clearly missing the point.” This man no only complimented my lack of body odor but he acknowledged my hygiene routine. Showering has become one of those unsung activities for a lot of us. We do it every day and yet no one recognizes us for it. He clearly does not take it for granted. He also knows good dentition. Judging by the missing 5 front teeth, he now understands the importance of oral hygiene/upkeep. Which also explains why he was a little skeptical that all 32 that I have are my original teeth.

Plus, he made an important social commentary that I’m only now realizing. I’m clearly living a life of excess with all of these extra teeth. Oh Leroy*!

it's not fair

 Sensing that I was still not convinced to be his woman, he followed up with:

You sound like you educated. Mmmm….You got big words and talk all proper. 

You real cute. You the type of woman to make a man [He said something else but it’s one of the words I promised myself I wouldn’t put on here] stay out of jail and work 2 jobs so he can afford you. 

Girl, you the type of woman to make these gay men [same word, still not typing it] straight. 

Leroy* clearly understands and appreciates the value of education. Plus, he reinforced what he thought of my looks, understood that I did not come cheap (because as a woman I am for sale) and has offered a solution to mass incarceration. He’s also found an “effective” conversion therapy. Is there anything this man can’t do?


(Courtesy: Disney)

At this point, I’ve seen the light so we got down to facts. He’d clearly demonstrated that he could bring the romance.

You like older men? I’ll be 59 next week. 

You looking for a sugar daddy? I’m broke though

The honesty. The confidence. Only a man of the highest caliber could not only offer such soul-piercing compliments but also offer his services as a broke sugar daddy. My life was forever changed after meeting Leroy and I have MARTA to thank. That should be their new slogan: “MARTA, no longer where you go to find or lose your weave. It’s where you go to find LOVE, packaged in broke, toothless, sugar daddies.” It’s a little long but I feel like we could make a catchy jingle out of it.

But replace JG Wentworth with MARTA. Marketing gold!

But replace JG Wentworth with MARTA. Marketing gold!

Obviously this post is supposed to be sarcastic. I’m not starting a life with Leroy*, as tempting as he thought his offer was. However, the discomfort I felt is real. I had to sit on a bus with this man and I as the sole passengers and listen to him make comments about my appearance. Me ignoring him or telling him that I wasn’t interested wasn’t enough. His right to tell me how/what he felt and to stare me down takes precedence over my right to a safe and quiet bus ride. Or at least that’s what society tells women.

That’s what we tell them every time we’re supposed to see it as a “compliment” when someone makes lewd comments about our bodies or harasses us. There was a driver and obviously there wasn’t much that he could have done. What he shouldn’t have done was smile or laugh whenever Leroy* made a comment and I recoiled in my discomfort.

Newsflash: Women being uncomfortable isn’t funny. And we have a right to use public transportation and put in our headphones to avoid conversations like normal antisocial humans. Plus, I don’t know about you but I know very few people who looking for broke AND toothless sugar daddies. You gotta bring SOMETHING to the table.

* Name changed because I was too busy trying to ignore him to remember his actual name. 

Is this a date or isn’t it? That is the question (at least when you’re me)

[Disclaimer: This is a humorous recount of a real life event , from my perspective. So “speaking as a completely objective third-party observer with absolutely no personal interest in the matter…” this is exactly how everything happened.  Also, I checked with the person in question and he was totally OK with me posting this]

(Dr. WHO)

(Courtesy: Dr. WHO)

At this point, we know each other well enough that I don’t need to apologize for the gap between posts. I honestly think that it makes you appreciate me a little bit more. If you really think about it, I’m not that funny but because I post sparingly, it increases the hilarity factor. Although this time I have a legitimate excuse, besides the ever-present writer’s block and lack of inspiration.

drum roll cat

I moved (back) to Atlanta. I’ve been wrapped up in moving cross-country (for the second time in less than a year) and haven’t had much time to do anything else but worry about my bank account situation.

(Courtesy: Kevin Hart's Laugh at my pain)

(Courtesy: Kevin Hart’s Laugh At My Pain)

(Courtesy: Chappelle's Show)

(Courtesy: Chappelle’s Show)

That also means that my life is going to be infinitely more boring and I’m not even sure what I’ll have to write about now. Los Angeles was the inspiration for documenting my awkward adventures and there were plenty to be had. But I’m not sure Atlanta will be able to provide the same backdrop (Although it’s already inspired me to write my new post about weaves. Coming soon, which we know may mean next week or in 3 months). Regardless, I promise to do my best but I really think that from now on my blog posts might consist of extremely detailed recaps of “Married At First Sight” episodes. That show is a fascinating train wreck packaged as a “social experiment”. Every time they say that, this is my answer….


Anyways! Before you join me in saying goodbye to L.A for good, let’s dive in to my last great (awkward) adventure there: exclusively dating someone (GASP).

(Courtesy: America's Next Top Model)

(Courtesy: America’s Next Top Model)

I know, I know but now that I’ve been properly interrogated by my family and am emotionally removed from the situation, I figured I would share my experience with the Internet. Plus it might help a fellow awkward girl out there.

So without further ado, I present the first post in the “M series” (if Hollywood can drag out a 270ish pages story and make 2 movies, I can certainly write a few blog posts about a relatively short “relationship”. And yes that was a thinly veiled reference to Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1. So unnecessary and IMO, the movie was wack)

Part I: “Who knew lunch could be such a confusing meal?”

M. and I had a meet cute. He was on business in my building and taking his lunch break. We both walked toward the same table. I really thought about telling him to get lost because it was MY table. (This table had the perfect amount of shade and sun exposure. Plus, I’m actually not that friendly to strangers) But against my natural instincts, I told him that we could share the table since all of the other ones were occupied. That led to an almost 2 hour long conversation during which I learned that this man had terrible taste in sports teams. He was a Lakers fan, had played football at USC and bet against the Patriots in the Super Bowl.

(Courtesy: @SBNationGIF)

(Courtesy: @SBNationGIF)

I know Tom, I know.

Clearly, we were off to a rocky start. When I got up to leave (around 13:45, I remembered that I had more work to pretend to do for that day), he handed me a card with his cell phone number and e-mail and told me to contact him. Now, I’m not the best at reading people’s interest (I’ve been on a few dates and didn’t know they were dates), so I thought “Cool. You just made a new friend. Having a lunch buddy means you won’t spend an entire hour playing Dots.”

So naturally, I emailed him to say that I was excited to start a lunch buddy-ship. ( Note: if you are shaking your head at my cluelessness, this will not be last time in this series). He probably read that email and thought, “Seriously?!?!”. He responded with “Here’s my cell number (again): XXX-XXX-1234” aka “Take a hint woman!”. Hence began our generation’s version of intimate conversation: texting. 

After a week of these sexy little things bubble-feature, he asked me out…to LUNCH?!?!?

(Courtesy: NBC's New Girl)

(Courtesy: NBC’s New Girl)

Here’s the thing about inviting someone to lunch (and please comment below and let me know if this is a personal problem), it’s in this grey area so I never know if it’s a friend date or a date date. Breakfast usually is code word for… and dinner is very clearly a date. But lunch? Lunch is iffy. So all I’m saying is that since he was already aware of my ineptitude at reading signals, lunch was most certainly not the best way to go. Especially when you’re dealing with someone who has the subtlety of a brick wall when it comes to flirting and is about as dense.

But alas that’s the route that he chose, so I can’t be blamed for my behavior pre- and during lunch, but that’ll have to be a story for another day since this post is already over 900 words. Aren’t you glad I’m back? 😉