The Bi-Polar Good Girl

The Recipe: A 23-yr old, single, black female. College grad, good career, no children, decked out apartment, cars, 401k, and the whole 9. So what went wrong? Shit, what didn’t go wrong. I’ve ran across some women who couldn’t make up their minds….but atleast they had a history with me. This woman and I knew eachother for 3 weeks, we saw eachother 6 times. My best friend told me to leave her alone after our first encounter, but I didn’t listen. Damn, I wish I did….

I met bi-polar at this spot in Southfield called 7 Bar & Grill. The first time we were supposed to hookup, we wanted to meet up somewhere, but I ended up going out to her apartment. She was sharply dressed, professional status. Her apartment was clean. Nice furniture and appliances. Her hi-def projector played some Ice Cube movie on the wall above her fireplace. We hugged and proceeded to sat and chat. She told me she made some Mac & Cheese for the Christmas party at her job and I asked if she had some left over. She went to the fridge and heated some up in the microwave. I was hoping this girl could cook, as her stats could only get better, BUT….I was disappointed to say the least. I almost spit the food out, no bullshit. I didn’t front either, I told her that mac and cheese was awful, but she was still cool. The girl even broke up little crackers in it or something. I asked her if her co-workers liked it and she said they loved it. Come to find out, 95% of her co-workers are white (that explains it all).

Bi-polar was a “good girl.” She was heavy into church; as well as her mom and dad. She was a virgin, who seemed to come from a family where the mother was the voice of the house. Yea, that’s all good….but “I got a transformer.”

Second night, we’re laying in her bed, watching some movie, I’m kissing on her titties. I wanna hit it so bad I’m about to burst. She’s horny. She’s a serial masturbater, as I saw her bullet sitting on her dresser. She’s grabbing my dick, playing with it, but not moving further. After about 10 minutes of this, I called it quits. I went out to the hallway for a second to get my head straight and she came out after me. Perhaps there is something to that shit Freckles was saying about how I pout when I don’t get my way. Less pouting and more……”what is the point of me being here right now?”

She came out and said “what did you think was going to happen?” I just looked at her stupid. Finally, I played the card. “I didn’t think you’d give me the box, but I thought you were about to suck it.” “Well you didn’t ask, but I don’t like your attitude now, so I’m turned off.” In my mind, I knew I had to play a little mental game with her to accomplish my goal. 15 minutes later, she was giving me head. Pretty good head too.

Somehow we got into the whole fake virgin trend. You know, the girls who suck dick (I’ve met 3 of them), who are waiting to have sex until marriage. I found out that she had given 5 dudes head (including me). Some virgin huh? I almost went in on her to the point she cried. Oh yea, did I forget to mention I bust in her mouth? In my book, that is 100X nastier than just having protected sex, but ah well.

Outside of her fake virgin morals, I liked her. When I was there, she fed me and relieved me. Good enough. She had way too much mouth, but she was convenient, not more than 6 minutes from where I live, so I played it cool. She started talking about how she could see herself with me and I did play off that vulnerability. I told her I had no interest in committing to her, or anyone, but I knew how much she liked me.

The 4th time we kicked it, I took her over my cousins house. They gave her the thumbs up, even though my cousin’s cousin, said she was tripping for having on those black leather pants (I agree). We were all chillin’, drinking (I was sipping water), talking shit, and playing cards. Then something happened, I’m not sure what, but she said I disrespected her in front of them. Then she started annoying the fuck out of me. I’m taking her back home and she’s demanding that I role down her window, she’s hot. I’m like, it’s 2 degrees outside. I turned the heat off and she still bitched. I wanted to just let her ass out and give her all the air she could imagine. I got her home and pulled up in front of her door waiting for her to get out. “You’re not coming in?,” she asked. I wanted to say no, but I figured why not bust one for the road.

We got in and it was apparent she tricked me. She wanted to talk about how rude I was being to her (as if I didn’t consistently talk to her that way when I met her). She said I grabbed her neck or something, but I don’t remember all that. Neither one of us drunk any liquor, so I don’t know why she made that up. The more she bitched, the more I knew it was time to go. I walked out the door and she asked for a hug, but I ignored her. “Ok, don’t call me again. Loose my number,” she shouted down the stairs.

I called my bestfriend and she told me leave her crazy ass alone. I went home and erased her out of the database. A few days later I got this message from her:

Okay. Stop.
I want to see you regardless…. I can’t take this anymore…
Callme…. ASAP!

I just ignored the message. Then I got a longer one saying why she doesn’t understand why she misses me so much and all that stuff. For some reason, I text her again. Why? I’m an idiot. Perhaps I missed her retarded ass, or more so the peaceful environment at her apartment. So I went back….replays of the other days.

One day, I told her about my blog. I didn’t tell her what it was, just that I had one. At that point, the blog wasn’t even up, I just didn’t want her to find out from some third party. She said she didn’t care. Cool. Next up, she starts to text me saying she wants me to come over, she needs to talk to me. I called her, but she said she had to tell me in person.

So I get over there, anxious to hear the news. We go into her room and I see a prayer book on the night stand and a gospel cd in the stereo. She ask me to sit down. At this point, I’m scared she’s going to say she has herpes or something. She begins into how she is so sad she played herself….blah, blah, blah. She thought I cared about her, blah, blah, blah. I don’t know what brought that shit on, because my behavior had not changed since I met her. Somehow, it was the blogs fault. “I thought to myself, if you really cared about me, you wouldn’t blog about me,” she said. I burst out laughing. The same blog she said she didn’t care about, nor had she ever seen, was the reason she was tripping. “It’s a game to you,” she continued. I couldn’t take it anymore, I just stood up and said, “did you really call me over here for this shit? To dump me?” She could have sent a damn text. I don’t need reasons for a conclusion, just a conclusion.

I walked out her apartment, smacking her ass one last time, and went on my way. I’ve blocked her in every way I know how, but that shit is for nothing. Blocking people is a sign of weakness. It’s my own signal that I lack the ability to simply ignore some of the women who contact me again. This one though, nah, I’m done. She might as well poured some liquor on my head and called me a dumb ass nigga.

Related Posts:

• Strap Up Or STRAP YOUR KIDS IN
• What Did I Do Wrong?
• Busted Windows
• Is This Bitch Bi-Polar?

Author: The Undresser

Black, Single, and Not Looking. Enjoys grilled salmon, cold glasses of water, and grocery shopping at Meijer. Likes women with nice ass to waist ratios, Reese Cups, and watching Real Time with Bill Maher. Dislikes cigarettes, littering, and disobedient children.

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