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Cabbie diaries part 4

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Cabbie Diaries part 4

So do you remember back in April I met a cab driver and was talking to him for a few weeks then he was 3 hours late for a spontaneous date? I wrote 3 blogs on him here.Well he’s back.  It is difficult for me to describe Cabbie without referring to one of my made up words: Nigistence

Nigistence: An often male trait that I see a lot in Hollywood films where the person ignores what you say and do and just go with what they want anyway. Because they know better right? So you say you’re not interested and they believe that means that you are too stupid to know what you want because you are a woman. It comes from the marriage of the words Nigerian and persistence to reflect a pattern I’d experienced of West African men who possessed this attribute more than any other group of men I’ve met.  Ghanistence doesn’t have the same ring to it. With nigistence comes a disbelief that you wouldn’t want to talk or go out with them. There is a certain self confidence that some men have that is beyond description. Let’s just say their mothers have done an amazing job on their self esteem. They also tend to play the numbers games so the minute they realise you’re not buying what they’re selling (rubbish) you see them move onto the next victim with a shrug and not even a second thought. In some ways it’s admirable. But when you are the target not so much.

Bu, back to cabbie. He had told me that he had 6 women on the go so I know that when he and I stopped talking he wouldn’t give me a second thought. I was but a number to him. And then, black London being as small as it is I bumped into him a month later. He was on a date. We spoke briefly but to be honest there were no regrets on my side. My friends clocked him checking me out a couple of times after that but I didn’t have time for him. Like all focused women I was on the lookout for fresh bait. Sadly that night wasn’t to be my night. I blame myself. The event was in Kilburn.

Not giving it a second thought I didn’t even have the foresight to change his name from XXXX to Prick Headf*ck like I do all the others when he texted.

Let’s review. I hate texting at the best of times but when we aren’t on good or friendly terms I think it’s the rudest thing ever. The text conversation is below

Cabbie: Hi Chelsea, how are you? I’m heading your way fancy a quick hello??? 😉

Me: Nope. I don’t do spontaneity

Cabbie: Oh? I thought you said you did with half an hrs notice?

Me: (annoyance kicking in) 1st It was a couple of hours. 2nd after you it was retracted. Enjoy!

Cabbie: I’ve only just found out that I’m dropping a passenger on your road. There was no time to give you notice.

At this point my precious I checked myself. Why was I engaging with him when clearly I wasn’t interested. So I did what I should have done at the very beginning and ignored his text. Instead I went to have a bath

Then he called.

© Chelsea Black


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


I’ve got the power…point

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Categories: Latest, Misadventures, Tags: ,

So we met through a friend of his who I was sort of chatting to but not really because I’m not into men who wear white shoes and monitor my drinking. We chatted for a few weeks and finally the guy asked to take me out. We agreed to meet in Greenwich near Cutty Sarks. I know it is out of my 45 minute dating zone but I was working in Woolwich at the time so it was allowable. We met and went for a Mexican dinner. He talked about his amazing high paying job as an IT project manager which made my little consulting gig in Woolwich pale into insignificance. I won’t say there was chemistry but there was enough spice and flirtation for us to make it back to his.  Don’t judge my precious, it was a slow month.

The sex was average. He needed an awful lot of union breaks, was sweaty and I was starting to get a bit bored. This was definitely one for the last tube home so I was constantly conscious of the time. Then he asked me to help him out. Oh goodie a request for something kinky? Suddenly this was getting more interesting.

But no, this guy needed help with…Powerpoint. Apparently he needed to submit a presentation to his client and didn’t know how to use it. I assumed he wanted to know how to use the whizz on bits that make the letters screech onto the screen or turn the slides with pixels but no, he wanted the basics on how to set up a presentation.

I put my bra back on and gave him a 15 minute master class on how to Powerpoint. All the while thinking, how is this dude an IT Project Manager? To be fair his sexual performance improved afterwards and he was able to finish me off and drive me to Plaistow tube all in good time. Gratitude is a wonderful thing.

I know I’m too trusting. But if someone tells me they do something for a living I believe them because why lie? I know men spend the majority of their time thinking of ways to trick women into bed but, dude, it wasn’t the job title that swayed me to go back to yours. It was those arms which should be used for more than just pointing at presentations.

© Chelsea Black


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