Nothing really matters. I don’t really care, what nobody tells me. I’m gonna be here. It’s a matter of EXTREME importance, my first teenage love affair…”
– Alicia Keys
The night I met CK, I met another man. He was my physical type, o he was my every type. This man was gorgeous in every sense of the word. I was immediately attracted to him. We chatted, and I found there was a catch.
He had a girl…but he said they were on the rocks. I told him I don’t deal with taken men. He told me I should take his number and call every so often to check up on his status. Eh….too much work. And does that not sound a little bird-ish?
I took the number, but I never called. The logic was, would I want some chick calling to check in on my man’s departure from me? “Karma, karma, karma comes back to you hard,” we learned from Lauryn Hill. Plus, there are certain people you just want to d things the RIGHT way with.
Well time continued to pass, and so did a few months. By this time, it’s mid-summer, and I was in D.C. visiting family members. I ran into him again one Saturday night at Josephine, a D.C. lounge catering to tastemakers and those who pretend to be such. I walked in with my girl Sadiyah, who casually reintroduced us, and we-the stranger and me- had a drawing of recognition at the same time.
“Hey,” I said. Blush. Giggle.
“Hey,” he said. Grin, grin, grin.
I played it cool as we remembered out loud that there was a very mutual interest.
Finally, he said, “But you never called.” “This has to be fate us meeting up in the same town, and in the same place.”
I shook my head. “You had a girlfriend.” I gave a what-could-I-do-shrug for emphasis.
He nodded, then smiled. “We were broken up. And she’s moved out.”
He made me promise to give him my number before I left. I don’t know why I didn’t give it to him right then. Maybe I didn’t want to appear too eager? Silly me.
I left before I could pass him my digits. I looked for him, please believe it, but he was nowhere to be found. So I text Javon and told her to make sure they guy got my number. Over brunch the following afternoon at Lauriol Plaza, a Spanish resty in Adams Morgan better known for its sangria pitchers than its food, Sadiyah assured me the she did.
I hope he calls. I really hope he calls (and is as amazing on the inside as he is on the outside).