Categotry Archives: Misadventures

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Signs you’re dating crackhead (addict)

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Categories: DATING TIPS, Misadventures

Signs that you may be dating crackhead (addict)

Just to be clear; I don’t have enough knowledge on drugs to know the difference between crack / crystal meth/ speed etc. What I do know from experience is that addicts, from alcohol to gambling and now drugs are sneaky, selfish and likely to make you think that you’re crazy. But, I have started to see that despite their best intention addicts can’t hide their real love forever. Here are ways you too can spot the subtle and not so subtle signs

Chelsea x

When they talk about their drug wistfully ….you’re dating an addict

There were a number of conversations where drugs were discussed as an activity just before you start dating or during the dating (but recreationally but only when his old friend tracked him down and forced them down his throat). I didn’t understand this story but I was told that an ex con friend has bumped into him, then come over and persuaded him to have the drugs. But he’s telling you that he no longer does drugs and this ex con knows where he lives and is coming over to smoke during the day? Know that this wasn’t the first and won’t be the last.

When the landlord is knocking on the door ….you’re dating a crackhead

The beauty of the answer machine is that you too can hear the messages. Whilst I was over there the landlord kept calling. The rent hadn’t been paid. He ignores all the calls and says that he isn’t over a month over. Huh? This is turning into the beginnings of an episode of the people’s court and you’re on the wrong side. Then, one day you’re sitting there watching Living Single reruns and the Landlord is knocking on the door. This tells you that a) he’s more than a month late and b) the fact that he doesn’t even flinch means that this has happened before.

When the other crackheads are knocking on the door ….you’re dating a crackhead

One day, late at night whilst trying to figure out if I indeed has whatever ailment the advert on TV was telling me I had there was a knock on the door. Not the pesky landlord I hoped. But no, this was a guy looking for a light. A light, 10pm at night. There was an exchange which I couldn’t hear but needless to say with hindsight I reckon that the dude wasn’t looking for a light. You’re then told that this hasn’t really happened before. You keep quiet and wonder if you indeed might have high blood pressure or terminal piles…

When you spot the drug paraphernalia ….you’re dating a crackhead

So the first few visits there is nothing to suggest that this person smokes let alone anything illegal. Then one day you are doing your usual recognisance to ensure that there are no signs of other women. You spot an ashtray with a metal cigarette shaped thing in it and some dark powder. This doesn’t LOOK like weed but, university was a long time again and besides, you were always too posh to actually buy your own. You ask him and he tells you something about it being a cigarette. It’s not the vapour one you bought him to help him quit. You never see the ashtray or metal cigarette again. In fact you never ever see him smoke. He just comes back smelling of something you can’t identify.

When he owes you money with little way of paying it back …you’re dating an addict

CRACK IS WHACK!

He owes you money but the excuses become more and more ridiculous. You realise that money is not something that likes to hang around him. You doubt you will ever get your money back and start plotting ways to get even. He tells you how his mom tries to control him by helping him with money. He confesses that he doesn’t work all the time. You realise that this man works to weed not weeds to have fun.

When he plays the creative card….chances are he’s a crackhead

Apparently creatives need drugs to create which suggests that we are all creative if we buy the right shit. We just don’t know it. I found any sort of drug restricts my creativity and just makes me jumpy and paranoid. Like we need another suspicious black woman on the streets of London? I can’t.

When he loses a lot of weight ….you’re dating a crackhead

Thanks to Facebook you can date a weight loss. You see that about a year before he was big but now

he is more than 100 lbs smaller. He has that loose skin that comes from a dramatic “Biggest Loser” weight loss. You ask and he tells you that shit got so hard despite being in a relationship that he lost that much weight from, lack of eating. The only other signs I know are sickness and drugs. Food weight loss isn’t usually that severe in such as small period of time. Hell, we could all afford to skip the odd snack.

When he looks pained when he has to spend money on anybody but himself. ….chances are he’s a crackhead

When you go grocery shopping and you can see that the person doesn’t want to feed you. When the portion of rice is so small he’s trying to stretch out a portion of Uncle Ben’s Wild rice over 3 -4 meals. When the bill comes and he gives you THAT look because you dared order a starter. When he’s calculating how much money he has to spend on drugs by skimping on everything else.

There were plenty of other signs. The lateness that you put down to African time, the nervousness and anxiety, the waking up to finding him mindlessly finger fucking you, his inability to stay awake for calls or remember what time to call, the dry mouth, my precious is when you know that chances are he’s a crackhead.

Be warned

©Chelsea Black 2014

P.S. My own crackhead ending is right here

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Cabbie Diaries part 1

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Categories: BLOG, Latest, Misadventures, Tags:

So those of you who follow the fanpage or twitter will know that for about 2 weeks I was talking to a cab driver. Universe, we seem to be having major communication issues these days? Is my meaning not clear? When I said I loved Black Cabs I meant the car with the yellow light at the front not necessarily black cab drivers. I see how that is any easy mistake to make but Universe, we need to focus our efforts from now on ok? Now, let’s go back ……

Two weeks ago one of my 6 birthday twins had a party and as I left it to head home I missed a bus and was walking back to the tube station when a cab pulled up, wound down the window and said “Excuse me miss, but can I be of any assistance?” What can I say, I was feeling all birthday happy, the sun was shining as was his smile and so after establishing that I wouldn’t have to call this one in (I can’t do the Addison Lee wait times at the best of times) I accepted his offer of a lift to the station.

He was happy to talk about himself. He was a cabbie and had been for 2 years, he was 40, never been married, didn’t have any kids was Nigerian and lived in Tottenham. Ok when I say happy to talk I mean that he was happy to answer my barrage of what’s wrong with you questions. Hmmmm, it wasn’t looking good but then I wasn’t really cutting it with the white collar dudes either so maybe it was time for a change?

There are a number of reasons why I should have known that this wouldn’t work. Firstly he’s a cabbie who picked me up randomly on the street.  A later conversation revealed that he was chatting to 6 women and 2 of whom he had already taken out and could possibly be sleeping with. He wasn’t willing to confirm their sexual status. Hmmmmm. Secondly he lives in North East London in an area I have found not to be dating friendly for me. And thirdly he thinks that South West London is too posh. It really isn’t but if you think it is then we clearly have an issue. This is also outside of my 45 minute dating zone but given his occupation I figured that he would be more flexible in terms of picking me up.

So things weren’t looking good but on the flip side I could see some positives. He was a cab driver I could call directly after a drunken night out. Surely this was worth overlooking niggling points like the fact that he was a rampant flirt and curb crawler?

And so my precious I gave him my number and agreed to a date in the future. I would hate for you to think of me as anything less than compromising and open to looking for love in all the wrong places. Don’t worry, this was also the week in which I met a cute locksmith and considered dating him too. I was clearly in a practical dating stage which, for future reference should only be used for jobs that you cannot do yourself and need regularly.

So if anyone knows of an eligible, black, well-endowed British Gas engineer, web developer or chef let me know? But cabbies I’ll skip and I’ll tell you for why in part 2. Besides, I think I prefer men who are hailing cabs, not driving them.

© Chelsea Black

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Cabbie Diaries part 2

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Categories: BLOG, Latest, Misadventures

Conversations with Cabbie were never that relaxing at best. Yes he introduced me to a hilarious youtube video called The crimes of Daniel LeRusso (Karate Kid) but apart from that we didn’t seem to have much in common. He was overly sensitive to anything that suggested we were different and found me judgemental. I argued I knew what I liked and didn’t beat around the bush. He made some lewd bush comment which I pretended not to get. hmmmmm, would 80s movies be enough?

Initially he annoyed me by being the king of texting. I hate texting people I don’t know well. It is open to misinterpretation when you don’t know the person’s personality or humour well enough and besides, you are meant to be getting to know each other. Make the effort and pick up the bloody phone. I told cabbie that I wasn’t a texter and so as to avoid long conversations that weren’t going anywhere I suggested that he call me when he had a date planned? I then got a text with 13 different date scenarios including sport and whether or not I played as well as spectated. I was not impressed. So he essentially didn’t want to arrange the date? This wasn’t looking good.  I called him as clearly his phone didn’t like ringing out and explained that anything would be fine as long as I had enough notice and the right dress code. There is nothing worse than climbing football terraces in heels and sitting on those chairs in a tight ride up your butt dress. Trust me.

He texted me back and said did I like Nigerian food. I called him and said that no Nigerian was not the one for me. He then said he knew some restaurants in South East London. I patiently explained again that I needed to be within 45 minutes of my home on our first date. This therefore excluded North East and South East London. If he was struggling for a restaurant I would happily recommend a Nandos. He made a desparaging comment about Nandos which as a die hard I ignored. Nandos rocks.

He got sensitive and lost it at this point and so taking pity on him I invited him to be my plus one on an event the following Sunday. So Cabbie and I arranged to meet on the 29th   followed by a DVD night in the near future. I was starting to look forward to it because if nothing else he had the ability to make me laugh. That had to count for something right?

Oh maybe I don’t have that much of a sense of humour.

Part 3

© Chelsea Black

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