buy groceries. when you don’t buy groceries people you don’t want to do it to you try to do it to you….

“You have a really strong aura,” the woman seated in the booth called out to me from her darkened corner of the room.

“Um,” I said, furrowing my brow, “Thank you, I guess.” I tipped my Old Fashioned in her direction and swiveled on my bar stool so that my back was, again, to her.

“Doesn’t she have a strong aura?” she asked of her seatmate in a volume loud enough for me to hear her.

Her company mumbled something in concession to her assessment, and the woman clapped her hands wildly.

I couldn’t tell you what had possessed me to eat in the bar. I never ate in the bar. In four years time I had never eaten in the bar.

This shit shack had the best fries in town, and was open later than anywhere else in town, and served food and booze until 2 am during the week.

But I’d always taken my food home.

But not tonight.

Tonight I’d ordered an Old Fashioned and the veggie sub and fries I’d had yesterday, and taken a seat at the bar.

It quickly proved a momentous decision.

“My husband and I would love it if you’d join us,” said the woman, who was, all at once, behind me. She was in her early forties with fiery red hair and sharp features, and intent on looking directly into my eyes.

I was caught entirely off guard. “Oh—um…no. No. I couldn’t.”

“Please, please, please, please!!!?!?” she continued to clap her hands emphasizing each word. “You’re all alone, and we’d love the company!  We’re here visiting and don’t know anybody.  Besides, I want to give you a reading!! Your aura is incredible. Please??!”

I looked to the corner where her husband was still seated, watching us, closely.

“Come on! We won’t bite. Let us buy you another drink. It looks like you’re out.”


“Well, all right. But just for a moment,” I said, making a show of reluctantly picking up my plate in the face of getting a free drink.

Now, I know what y’all are thinking.

You’re thinking, “These people are going to try to fuck her. This is a story about how these two White people tried to fuck her.”

And you know what?

Fuck it.

I’ma spoil the shit out of my own story because it is just that unbelievable.

This is a story about how these two White people tried to fuck me just now.

Now, when we return to the tale, our heroine (me) is just sitting down to dine with the two merrymakers.

“Mark” and “Caroline” were in town on business. Mark did something in marketing and Caroline had joined him for the week, employing a team of sitters and relatives to watch their three children while away.

“Are you married, Fooler?” asked Mark, looking at me in that You-wanna-do-sex-to-my-dead-body-Bob? kinda way.

“Um, no. No, I’m not.”

“Lovely woman like you? Dimple like that? You can’t tell me no one’s tried to make an honest woman out of you,” he said, slowly sipping his drink.

I’m generally unresponsive in the face of extreme awkwardness, so I simply offered a nervous shrug.

“I want to give you a reading!” exclaimed Caroline. “Sweetheart, tell her I’m a mystic.”

I looked to Mark who was eyeing me, saying nothing.

“Is that what a person who gives readings is called?” I asked her. “A mystic?”

“I love that you’re drinking bourbon,” said Mark, seemingly out of nowhere.

I looked at him plainly. “What?”

“Sweetheart!!! Tell her I’m a mystic!” Caroline exclaimed, clapping her hands, again.

Mark’s eyes didn’t waver from mine. “She’s a mystic,” he said. I knew I hadn’t imagined the sardonic tenor of his words.

“Please, Fooler?!” Caroline began, “Please, please, pl—“

I held up my hand.

“You can give me a reading, Caroline.”

“Yay!” she clapped. Everything was an exclamation with this broad.

“You’ll have to let me hold your hands. I want to prepare you because I can already sense that you have some trust issues.”

I looked at her and was confronted with the most earnest facial expression I have ever seen on a woman.  “I’ll need to finish my drink for this, I think,” I said.

“Oh, do!! Do!” she commanded.  “Mark,” she barked out at her husband, to whom she’d been paying little attention, “Go get Fooler another drink.”

Now, trust me, I think it is the height of impropriety to let strangers buy you an endless succession of drinks, but I had the distinct impression that I was working for my supper. So, when Mark looked at me for confirmation and asked, “Another Old Fashioned?” I merely nodded in agreement.

I swigged the remainder of my drink, and placed my hands in Caroline’s. Her thumbs encircled the tops of my fingers. She inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes.

In a heavy, breathy voice, she began.

“You are going through a great transition in your life, right now. There are some major changes on the horizon for you.”

I sat still, neither confirming nor denying.

“You are scared. You’re really scared, but you’re trying not to show it. Oh God, don’t be afraid, Fooler!”

I shifted in my seat, a bit, in reaction to her passionate outcry.

“You feel trapped. You’re always trapped and unsettled. You always keep one foot outside of the door. You always want to walk away. You never involve yourself in a situation you can’t walk away from.”

I looked at her closed eyelids. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I thought.

Mark returned, and pushed the drink in front of me. “Did I miss anything good?” he asked.

“You have problems with men,” Caroline answered.

“They have problems with me,” I countered.

“Ahh, ‘The lady doth protest,’” sang Mark.

“One in particular. No, no. More than one. Maybe two or three. You have a few unresolved—“ She opened one eye and looked at me accusingly, “You’ve been busy.”

I shrugged and attempted to keep my face impassive.

“You’ve got such an adventurous spirit. You just don’t know how or what to do with it. You’re lost. You’re so, so lost.”

“Caroline?” I interrupted.

“Yes, love?”

“I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t mean to be rude. You both have been very nice, but—“ I withdrew my hands from hers as her eyes shot open, “You gotta get the fuck outta here with this shit.”

Caroline’s brow furrowed. “But, Fooler! Am I off? I’m right, aren’t I?! I’m right. I’m right and I’m too close and that frightens you. Don’t be frightened. Quick, give me your hands!”

Caroline reached out for my hands and placed them square in the middle of her chest.

“Can you feel my heart?” she asked, looking at me with pleading moss-colored eyes.

I looked around and was met by the curious gazes of the other wasted bar patrons, no doubt wondering why I had my ebony hands on this white woman’s titties.

“Steady, right?” she asked.


“My heart,” she answered in that breathy talk. “Can you feel how steady it beats under your hands?”

This shit right here is the second gayest shit I’ve ever done in my life.

“Open yourself to it, Fooler. I’m giving you good energy.” She was looking at me expectantly. I wouldn’t even give her the benefit of a head nod. I tried to recollect how I’d gotten to this place.

“Look, it’s getting lat—“ I began.

Caroline closed her eyes and slowly shook her head from side to side. “Shhhhhhhhh.”

She was doing that whisper that I use when I’m trying to irritate my linesister; that date rape whisper.

“It’s early,” she continued.

I looked over to Mark who’d been unusually silent. A glazed expression covered his face. I suspiciously eyed the drink he’d pushed toward me. I hadn’t taken a sip.

“Fooler,” Caroline whispered sternly, taking my hands and placing them on either side of her face.

I can’t believe this shit is really happening.

“Fooler. FoolerFoolerFoolerFoolerFoolerFooler. Fooler. I think you should come back to the hotel with me and Mark.”

Oh hell no.

I sat upright, maneuvering my hands from her face. “You know what? No. I have work in the morning—“

“We’ll see you home in time,” said Mark.

Oh, now you wanna chime in, motherfucker?

“My dogs need to be walked. I can’t just—You know what? No.” I stood up.

“Fooler, come onnnnnnnnn!” Caroline whined.

I rumbled through my bag, and grabbed my keys .  “It was very nice meeting you both. I hope your business goes well, Mark. Caroline—“

I searched in my bag some more, trying to think of what the fuck to say to this crazy sexually ambiguous bitch. “Caroline, thanks for the reading. Really. I wish you all the best.”

I found a twenty at the bottom of my purse, and placed it on the table.

“Y’all have a great night,” I said, turning to walk away. I took two steps forward, before turning around again and walking back.

I grabbed the twenty from the corner of the table.

“Forgot. Drinks were on you.”


8 Responses to “buy groceries. when you don’t buy groceries people you don’t want to do it to you try to do it to you….”

  1. 1 Isha
    September 17, 2010 at 11:19 am

    Girl! I have no words! Date rape whisper was too funny and too true!

  2. 2 poyesha
    September 17, 2010 at 12:25 pm

    TOO TOO funny. who the hell does that?!?!

  3. September 17, 2010 at 3:59 pm

    2nd gayest thing you’ve ever done? i’m so curious to know what the gayest thing you’ve ever done was. this sounds like something out of a movie. i swear you have the most random ish happen to you.

  4. 4 Yem
    September 17, 2010 at 8:51 pm

    Forgot. Drinks were on you. (I died!)
    U tell a damn good story love. When will you tell us the 1st gayest thing you ever done? lol

  5. 5 Dtothep
    September 17, 2010 at 11:23 pm

    Bwahahaha! Whoo…

  6. 6 Her Royal Highness
    September 18, 2010 at 4:46 am

    Please get take out from now on. I have enough to worry about 🙂

  7. October 1, 2010 at 12:45 pm

    I don’t believe it, but I’m heartily entertained. You’re practicing your fiction chops on us.

  8. November 8, 2010 at 1:57 am

    Ditto to MadScientest7 and Yem. Curious about the first? Do tell. Loved that you went back and snatched up your loot. I don’t know if I could have gone back. Jeepers Creepers.

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a history of my meanderings….


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