Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Bifcake Chronicles: Yeah...right

Back in 2014, I exchanged numbers with a guy I hoop with (no-no) so we could hang out outside of the gym. He has about 8 years on me, so I figured (no-no) he'd be different than the others who have tried to holla. We went out to dinner, once. Had a good conversation and said we'd hang out again. From the beginning I told him that I wasn't lookin for a FWB*. I guess he took that as me wanting a relationship because after that, he had all the excuses in the world to not hang out; then the polar vortex wreaked havoc on the Midwest. I was comfortable sitting in the crib, cooking and watching Netflix solo dolo. Thanks, Winter.

After a while, I stopped communicating with him outside of sideline chatter in-between games at the gym. Well, during the NBA Finals, I get a text. His number was no longer in my phone, but I knew who it was from the area code. I had to remind him that he played me before. He apologizes.

Whatever.

So he's like he wants to hang out or what not. I'm thinking he wanted to go to a bar, eat, drink, and talk shit about the Cavs.

Nope, not his plan.


So the subject changes...start talking about yoga and then:
Feel free to go the cheap, lazy route of hanging out with someone else.

K to the...

*Friend with benefit

2 comments:

  1. Girl, girl, girl! Cuz you really wanted his butt print on your couch to watch the game! And after all that time of radio silence. Miss me!

    ReplyDelete

Please remove your shoes and leave them at the door.