Disclaimer: I’m not hot. I just have a butt and a penchant for leggings. Unfortunately the leggings of 16th March 2017 have special powers and have not been reduced to house only leggings. Men act like leggings are an invitation to fuck. They’re just leggings. Here’s how it went down:
So I was on my way to French class and about 3 minutes from my house. I had just passed the spot where I’d gotten mugged in 2010 and was thinking about how I was going to explain in French that I hadn’t done my homework (again) due to sheer laziness. As I was listening to my music I spotted a black guy in a diarrhoea brown leather jacket running in the middle of the road against traffic. This was a one way street? Where the fuck was he going? I watched as he nearly got run over by a delivery scooter as he looked to cross over to the other side. Cue Chicken jokes.
Me: Are you ok?
Me: Can I help you?
Roadrunner: Yeah I saw a gorgeous young lady so ….
Me: You better go find her then?
Roadrunner laughs like Ricky Gervais. Am I a comedian though?
Roadrunner: Hi I’m Roadrunner
Roadrunner: Can I chat to you
Roadrunner: [sensing that he’s losing me] So do you live around here?
Roadrunner. What’s your name
I tell him. He asks if it’s short for anything. I lie and say no. I don’t have the energy. And now he’s making me late for French. Grrrrr
Roadrunner: I’m in Wembley. I’m just on my way to the gym because, you know. That’s how I live my life?
This confuses me. Are we about to have some sort of metaphysical / existential conversation? On a THURSDAY?
Me: Ok Dude I have to go
Roadrunner: Wait! Where are you going.
I explain French class. He has a weird accent
Me: What’s with the accent
Roadrunner: I went to an American school but grew up in Europe.
Me: I see.
Roadrunner: So where are your parents from?
Why Black Jesus are you bringing all these thirsty men to me?
Me: South Africa. And yours are from Nigeria right?
Roadrunner: Yes! How did you know?
Me: A strong guess
Roadrunner: Can I get your number so that we can chat later.
I give him my number. Maybe he IS my person. You never know.
Roadrunner calls me immediately to make sure I had his.
Me: Why? I’m not going to call you ?
Roadrunner does his Ricky Gervais laugh and asks me what I do. I lie.
Me: What do you do? I
Roadrunner: I’m a broker. But also I work as an administrator in a hospital.
So, he’s a broke broker who needs a side job? I sigh and go to French. This one is just a liar. I see. He said he would call me about French but it’s already after ten. I blame the leggings. It was too soon for Spring attire. The men aren’t ready. And for those that don’t know, that’s sarcasm.
Aw lawd he’s started whatsapping about my figure. I may have to block him. Sigh
© Chelsea Black