Mr. Twitter

I’m not one to be particular impressed by those who claim to be a fan of the blog. Now with social media being the accessible tool of our generation it’s easy to meet new people and form attachments. But in this life of interaction it’s rare to find someone you really connect to.

Enter Mr Twitter. We began a facebook pen pal exchange after a twitter exchange which eventually morphed into a phone call exchange. He was interesting, supported the right football team and he was a writer so what could go wrong? He was the male version of me only less fabulous. He would argue otherwise and he thought he was funnier too but I just let him. The male ego is so very fragile.

2 days and 15 hours of T mobile free talk time later we were both a little hooked on each other.  I was thinking, THIS is how easy it is all supposed to be. My friends tried to warn me to slow down but, as with crushes, cocktails and chocolate I’m not one for pacing myself. I dove in heart first. After all, there is no other way to love my precious.

At this point he said he didn’t know what I looked like. He said it didn’t matter which I knew wasn’t true as men are visual beings but I played along. When he did see my picture he paused then said that I didn’t look very African.  As my African ancestors rolled and humphed in protest I knew this wasn’t the overwhelming response I was hoping for. What did I have to do, send a picture of my Africanness? He tried to back track but it was too late.  He compounded it by telling me in the same conversation that….. he didn’t want to get in the way of what I wanted in life. He wasn’t going to cockblock me. How generous of him. Note to self, this is the latest version of the ‘lets be friends’ conversation.

This was the point at which I should have sashayed off to get some Haribos and called a friend for a bitch. But the conversation continued and we met. I thought all was going well but then…he disappeared. You know the ‘I’ll call you back in 10 mins’ line that turns into hours? That’s when he decided that lying was the way to go because clearly I couldn’t handle the truth. It would have been easier if I had told him then that this was not a few good men and that I was grown enough to handle the truth. It’s BS I can’t handle.

He told me that he didn’t want to get too addicted to me. I was compared to some sultana biscuits from M&S.  I love M&S but I really hate sultanas. He said that he needed space. We had met once for less than 3 minutes. He called me more than I called him. How was he suddenly feeling so crowded? And why was I suddenly the problem in his life?

Then the emotional guilt started. Apparently he hadn’t had free minutes on the phone he had been using. It was only on the other one. (Let’s ignore the fact that he has two phones for a minute. I know my precious but I didn’t have time to consider what this meant).  So his solution was simple. He was going to send me a T-Mobile sim card so that he and only he could speak to me for free whenever we wanted. Ok, things weren’t as bad as I thought. I bulked at the word T-Mobile but I bravely gave him my address.

I’m no fan of Royal Mail but that was ……4 months ago? After a week or two I realised that here was a guy who liked the flirt and the friendship but wouldn’t ever give me any more. Instead he flaunted photos of his exes on facebook and told me that I needed to get over it. Fine. Then best he leave me alone.  But no, when I quizzed him about the sim card he told me that his child must have taken it. I can tolerate a lot but blaming a child for something goes beyond the pale.

I plodded along with a heavy heart under the guise of friendship. Don’t ask me why but we women feel the need to remain friends with people we interacted with for half a moment just to save face. But when I found myself giving feedback on his writing I thought to myself, no. This time I wasn’t going to pretend that it was ok.  So I stopped picking up calls and changed his name to Pr**k Headf**K. He quickly realised that things had changed and stopped calling. I guess it was never that important to him anyway.

And so a corner was turned in my interaction with the male of the species. When they have hurt or disrespected me I don’t pretend that it’s ok and that we can be friends. Because we really can’t. Instead I throw myself into work and my party planning and keep on stepping. Because the amount of time I spend on them I could be spending on me.  Timewasters are not a good colour on me.

The only other good thing to come out of this is that my relationship with O2 hasn’t been compromised.  A girl has to look at the positives, right?

© Chelsea Black


  1. I don’t get why women “force” themselves to stay friends with men who have disrespected them just to look like they cool? I admit I used to do this, but not anymore if a guy disrespects me, messes me around etc why is he suddenly going to become a good friend to you?! Nah see ya, “to the left, to the left”…..

    Don’t even get me started on the “you dont look African” b.s *smh*.

    • I so look african it’s not funny. He was just saying “I don’t fancy you” in man talk. Twat

      As for the remaining friends part, yeah it’s because we don’t want them to know how much it hurt or they got to us but it does and I don’t need a constant reminder of the hurt thanks. But it has taken me AGES to learn this!

  2. I think most of us have experienced many variations of this bull, and it really really annoys me. I’m also guilty of trying to stay friends and be a ‘cool chick’ but why?? I need to put a stop to it.

  3. Miss Beautiful Chelsea Black… were obviously too fabulous for him, let’s hope he stays in Cyberspace! MMA xx

  4. @Nsoromma – exactly! What in the actual hell??

    @MsBlack Mr hot and cold…what a complete waste. On the plus side you hadn’t invested any more than a few conversations so…ah, I’m trying to find the plus side…you could have marrried him before finding out he was a douche. there you go. Plus side.

    • The plus side is that I know my heart is big and that I love fully. The minus is that although I heard those voices which said….don’t ever give a chance to a man who uses his child as an excuse, lies or is basically constantly broke a chance…I did. Now the voice is heard and answered. SHE KNOWS!!!

  5. * seethe* I HATE disappearers * seethe* I HATE male creatures who make you don’t look African enough/look too African/are pretty for a dark-skinned girl/aren’t slim enough/aren’t thick enough *seethe*

    I am going to quietly retire from this post…

    • The thing is none of us are ugly. But some men feel the need to classify you and tame you by putting you down. I blame that book the game. I know I’m not ugly or that not looking African isn’t a bad thing but, I do look African so he’s talking nonsense. He tried to fob me off with, I like Caribbean women nonsense but at they say ‘the first cut is the deepest’ oooh is that PP Arnold or Dusty Springfield? Already forgotten Mr Twitter and goes off to youtube 🙂

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