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“Nigga, are you always so cocky?”
He grins. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. I gotta lotta cock, what can I say?”
I suck my teeth. “Oh, so you one’a them niggas whose in love wit’ his dick, I see.”
“Nah, it’s the bitches who are in love wit’ this dick. I’m the muhfucka who’s in love wit’ gettin’ it wet.” I decide to ig his ass, relieved the waiter comes back to the table wit’ our meal. By the time we’re halfway finished eatin’, I learn he’s an only child, like me. That he’s close to both his parents, particularly his moms. That he spent almost two years in college, but dropped out to do nuthin’ but hustle bitches off’a they paper. Well, he didn’t say it like that, but he might as well had. That he has no children. Burns mad trees. And fucks a string of horny bitches.
“And no baby mommas?” I ask again, half-believin’ ’im.
“Nope.”
“Okay, so none that you claimin’.”
“Nah, none period. I told you, ma, I wrap my shit—all the time. Well, ’cept when I’m gettin’ throated.” I raise my brow. He laughs. “Word up, I’m dead ass. Unless a broad can get pregnant swallowin’ my dick batter it ain’t happenin’.”
“Alriiiiiighty then. Next.”
“What ’bout you; how many baby daddies you got?”
“None. And I ain’t tryna have one.” I’m kinda shocked when he asks if I’ve eva been pregnant. Although I coulda told the nigga no, I decide to keep shit real. “Yeah, when I was young and dumb. But I handled that situation real quick, trust.”
“I feel you.” I’m surprised when he tells me ’bout some nuttyass bitch who kept claimin’ he knocked her up. How she tried’a drag ’im into court for child support; how she kept showin’ up at his family’s spot wit’ a baby that looked nuthin’ like ’im.
“Damn. So what you’d do?”
“I got a blood test.”
“Okay, and?”
“And it wasn’t mine; just like I told the ho from the door. Fuck outta here.”
“Mmmph, that triflin’ bitch was dead wrong for that,” I say, shakin’ my head. “Tryna pin a baby on a muhfucka. There’s a buncha scandalous bitches doin’ grimy shit like that; lettin’a buncha muhfuckas pop off in ’em, then they gotta pull baby daddy names outta hats ’n shit.”
“Yeah, that shit was real crazy. She even had my fam comin’ at me sideways; ’specially my moms’ ’n shit. And I wasn’t feelin’ that shit at all. I kept tellin’ ’em the shit wasn’t mine. If it was, I’da manned up and handled my responsiblities.”
“Well ’least it worked out for you.”
“Oh, no doubt.” I decide to ask if he’s ever been in a relationship. He shakes his head. “Nah.”
“Are you serious? Neva?”
“True story.”
I twist my lips. “Mmmm, so I guess you one’a them niggas whose gonna spend his whole life runnin’ through a buncha bitches, hunh?”
The waiter returns to the table to see if we want dessert, or sumthin’ else. We tell ’im no, and send ’im on his way. He waits for dude to walk off, then shifts his attention back to me. He leans up in his seat, rests his forearms on the table. “Yo, check this out. I’ve smashed a buncha pussy, tore the frame outta a ton of ass, and coated a buncha throats and I have no regrets. So up ’til now I’ve been cool.”
“Okay, so basically you ain’t beat for a relationship?”
“Nah, I haven’t been. On some real shit, I’ve always thought relationships were whack, feel me.”
Wow, this nigga’s head is all fucked up. “Okay and now?”
He shrugs. “The verdict is still out.” He winks at me, grinnin’. “But who knows. That might change.”
I laugh. “Oh, puhleeze don’t let it be on my account ’cause I ain’t lookin’ for a relationship. And if I were it wouldn’t be wit’ you.”
“Ouch,” he says, clutchin’ his chest. “You sure know how’ta stab a nigga in the heart.”
