So the next day after a decent night’s sleep I’m rudely woken by a call from a number I don’t recognise. I pick it up as is my terrible habit and say hello….it’s one of those bum calls from someone’s back pocket. Great! So much for my lie in. I check and it’s the last number that called me which was him. The tall guy from the jazz festival who last minute played me. I remember he had his jumper tied around his middle. I don’t get this look on men. Has it ever looked good on a man?….only David Beckham
I’m mildly unimpressed as I can’t get back to sleep but think nothing of it. At around 10 pm, so a good 10 12 hours later, I get another call and I pick up. It’s him. I asked if he called earlier and he said that he thinks he did actually but isn’t sure. It’s his phone. Hmmm
I’ve learned a new trick in getting rid of guys. Silences. Normally I ask them loads of questions as I’m naturally nosey and I try to extract as much BS as I can early on. Most give away way too much. But recently I’ve gotten tired of listening to the lies. Sorry, stories. I just can’t anymore. So I say nothing.
He panics and says “Girl! You’ve been running through my head all day”. I immediately recognise this as a line from a Fresh Prince Episode with Larenz Tate. You know, when he was young enough to be hot? Before Dead Presidents. I ask him if he is Nigerian and why if I was on his mind did he call so late. He laughs nervously. He conforms that he is indeed Nigerian and how did I know? I can’t be bothered to explain about Nigistence. He says something about most people thinking he’s from East Africa. I say most people aren’t very bright then are they. He laughs nervously again. I don’t think the conversation is going the way he had hoped with that big opening number. Was I supposed to giggle? Oh dear.
I ask him where he lives and he says North London. I check my 45 minute dating zone and, yep, Wood Green isn’t in it. I just want to tell him to get off the phone already. I add in a silence for good measure.
It works. He thinks to apologise for his phone mistake that morning. He tells me it’s because he has two phones. I tell him no one trustworthy has two phones. There’s no need for two phones. He tells me that the reason he has two is because he used to be on pay as you go but when he got a contract he knew that he’d have loads of problems with it so decided to get another number. I told him that this story doesn’t actually make sense. Why would he assume he would have contract issues and need to keep jumping contracts. Strange assumption to make.
Now let me explain. This man wore a jumper around his waist. I was his last minute play. And his worst crime….he cut my Sunday morning sleep short. No one does that and gets a warm reception
He mumbles something about meeting up. I say why?
He sucks on his cigarette deeply looking for an answer and I think…GOTCHA
I ask him if he’s a smoker. He says yes. I say is he smoking now. He says yes. I say I’m sorry but I could never ever go out with a smoker so maybe it’s best we just leave it yeah. It wouldn’t be fair to either if us to start something that’s not going anywhere and besides, I don’t want to ever deny or resent him of his oral pleasure. This is the longest sentence I’ve managed to this point. It stumps him. Am I joking he’s not sure.
He laughs nervously and we end the call. I told him I was making a tofu salad and needed to concentrate. I almost feel sorry but no. I must keep my resolve.
Let’s see if he calls again my precious but something tells me he won’t.
© Chelsea Black
