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.