White, Fat Flava Flav

It was a Friday afternoon and my cousin and I had decided to go to a Brewers game for the night. I called her up on my way home from work and she had to inform me that the game was sold out due to half price tickets. Just my luck, when do Brewers EVER sell out? Now what am I going to do…
Visions of laying in bed watching marathons of Trueblood by myself on my computer on a Friday night haunted me. Don’t get me wrong, that is what I had done all week, but this was Friday. I called a few friends… all busy with their own lives. It was then that I got a text. I was from Paul. “Wud up gurl?” Oh no, was I going to really finally give in and go out with Ghetto Paul? I thought about it for a little while and finally justified it. Worst case scenario I would have a good story for my Blog. I picked up my phone again and dialed.
The next think I heard after a couple rings was this voice message (insert ghetto hood speech here): “SO YOU THINK CHOO WANT TO TALK TO PAULIE? WELL, PAULIE DON’T WANT TO TALK TO CHOO. LEAVE A MESSAGE… HOLLA” I left a quick yet cocky, “This is Summer and I think you’re going to want to talk to me. Call me before I change my mind.”
I got a call back immediately and answer.
“Hello?”
“Hey yeah, Where you at? I got the stuff right here.”
“Excuse me?”
“Who is this?”
“This is summer, I’m in my car. What stuff”
pause
“Oh, damn gurl, I taut you was some other foo. Sorry bouts that”
He then went on to invite me to go to a bowling alley in a bar on the eastside of Milwaukee. By this time I was laughing to myself so hard about this guy that I HAD to go right? He sounded like a real winner.
After driving through some of the worst streets I have ever seen, in the worst parts of Milwaukee, I finally pull up to the place. Paulie was outside waiting for me. I should have kept on going. From this point on in the story my date will be referred to as white, fat flava flav. He had it all; the crooked hat, baggy pants, oversized shirt. I half expected him to smile and reveal a grille gleaming from his teeth. I am pretty sure that he was trying to dress a little more casual so he left his twenty-pound medallion at home.
We did a little bowling, but I was in a hurry to finish the game since I felt like a prize heifer being inspected at the county fair every time I went up to bowl. At least PRETEND you aren’t staring at my ass. There might as well have been a thought bubble like a comic book coming out of his head, with how obvious it was what he was thinking.
I went to the Bathroom and texted my best friend, “Save me from White, Fat Flava Flav!” Why do I do this to myself again? Glutton for Punishment I guess.
I decide that at this point I am going to turn the tables. No more making me the uncomfortable one. We started playing darts. I was starting to get good after practicing on all these dates. After a particularly good throw I jump up and down and start shaking my arms in a fiddler-on-the-roof /Russian type dance. I inform him that this is the winner dance. People were starting to look… I didn’t care.
I then started mocking Flava Flav that he is the worst dart player I have ever seen. The ridiculing got worse. I gave him a closer line to through from, I offered him a tampon since he threw like a girl, and all around make him feel insuperior. The calling out worked and he was suddenly a pro. I hate when guys let me win. It is so odd that after all this, he only seemed to want to impress and win me over more.
As he won the game of darts I yell “Dance for me! Dance the winner dance!” He looks at me like I am insane. I stare back daring him not to obey. To my surprise he starts shaking his arms a little. “More! More! Move those legs”
I starting clapping in time to his dancing and it is getting wilder and more spasmatic. Now, everyone in the bar is looking at this ghetto-ass dude jumping around with his arms over his head doing a half shimmy, half traditional Russian kick dancing. Oh God, I did not expect this guy to get convinced into all this. I love having the power.
A little while later over some beers I look up and make eye contact with a guy playing pool. There had been some sort of electric chemistry that we shared in that few seconds. Something about him had just struck me like I was supposed to know him. He wasn’t the most handsome guy I had ever seen, so I knew it wasn’t just a physical attraction I was feeling. I was something more that I can’t explain.
As Flava Flav and I were walking out I thought how this must be like one of those moments that people write about on “missed connections” on craig’s list or the what-if situations you think back on years after the fact. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t miss this opportunity. On a date or not, my mind just went on auto-pilot. With no plan I walked passed the bar without stopping for Flava Flav as he turned in the darts. The bar was round with a wall partitioning the middle so I headed toward the exit but took a quick turn around the back of the bar and back to the pool tables. I marched up to the man I had made contact with and put my hand around his arm.
“I just wanted to let you know that I think you are very attractive and you should give me a call the next time you are out.” I pulled out my card and pushed it into his hand.
Without another word I turned around and went for the door. I looked over my shoulder as he stumbled over, “Thank you ma’am” and kept walking.
I found Flav by the door and yelled at him for losing me. He apologized.
I have never done anything that cool in my life, and probably never will again. I got a text later that night. It said that he was Tom from the bar (like I go around giving my cards to everyone). He also said he liked my confidence and style. We set up an official date for the next night.