Cliché

I was still wet behind the ears when I met her. Young dumb and full..well, you know. Let's just say that I was smelling myself. I saw her getting her groove on, cutting a rug with some thugged out looking brother. He gave the image of being a real tough cookie, but in reality, he was soft as a baby's bottom. Who me? I was with my guys. My brothers from another mother Kareem and Tori. It was a Friday night and I just got paid. I was sharp as a tack in my Girbaud jean shorts and brightly colored Hilfiger shirt. I was feeling cool as a fan. I'm not telling a tall tale when I say that time stood still for a minute when I saw her. It was like nobody else in the world existed. She took my breath away. I took a minute to get my ducks in a row, then waited for opportunity to knock. The guy she was dancing with had left her on the dance floor to answer a page. She stood there looking like she lost her best friend. That's when I made my move. I was ready to stick a knife in his back to meet this girl. Was it wrong? Sure, but I had to look out for number 1.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Yeah, it ain't trickin' if you got it. That's what all the rappers say, so it must be true. Even though I was just a college boy, I worked my fingers to the bone at my j-o-b. I'm pretty sure I could manage to get her a glass of Alize. Now, as I reminisce, that in itself was mad cliche. Everybody and their mama was getting their drink on with that Ze. Myself? This was back before I knew any better and was drinking that liquid crack. If it wasn't Cisco or MD2020, you might find me 3 sheets to the wind off that Christian Brothers brandy. Or maybe some Seagrams Gin. Sometimes both. Well that night I was sipping on gin and juice. You know what they say. "Gin makes you sin." I thought of all the sinful things I could do with her. Matter of fact, before I move on, let me confess, I wasn't exactly rolling in the dough. I was NOT keeping up with the Jones'. In fact, my money was funny, but frankly, I didn't give a damn. They say romance without finance is a damn nuisance, but I figured let's roll the dice and see if I can hit the mark.

So back to the girl. She smiled a smile that lit up the room. She was finer than all outdoors. I mean, she could have been a model. What should I call her on the blog? I think I'll call her Nashville - cuz she was the only 10 I see. Or saw. Or.. never mind, that doesn't work out. I thought I would run it up the flagpole and see if it flies. Anyway, she told me her name. It was Keisha. What a surprise! A black girl named Keisha. I've never met one of those before. I think that there must have been a come to Jesus meeting for all parents between 1974 and 1984. They decreed that every 5th Black female child shall be named Keisha. It was written...and forever more shall be.

But I digress... Keisha was rocking the styles of the day. She had the white K-Swiss on with some Daisy Dukes shorts that fit like a glove. Her white tee was tied up around her navel, revealing a butterfly tattoo on her stomach. You have to remember this was when I was still mad young, and not set in my ways like I am now. A cliche tat like that back then was exciting, especially the strategic placement and "blue like the sky" coloring. Keisha's hair was gelled up in a french roll, and a long (weave?) curl cascaded over her left eye. Yeah, she was hotter than a sinner in church. She was hotter than July. She was hotter than a fat chick's butt crack and I was hooked like a crackhead. She had my nose open like some Vicks.

I paid for her drink and then we walked to the corner to chop it up. I mean we were talking, not getting blowing trees. Although by that point, I was probably high as Bob Marley. But guess what? You most certainly can't judge a book by it's cover. Turns out Keisha was dumb as a box of rocks. She was a few fries short of a happy meal. Her conversation was so wack, that I considered finding the dude she was with and returning her. "Here, you take her. I don't want her no mo'." Ain't that the way the cookie crumbles? You never trust a big butt and a smile. All that glitters isn't gold. I had to bounce out of there. I guess that's the story of my life. Oh well, another one bites the dust!

Oh yeah, this story was fiction. You know how I be lying. LOL Or more accurately it was fiction based on a composite of true stories. Did you notice all the cliches? If not, read it again and look for them. I lost count of how many I threw in there.