50 Shades of Jerk

50 Shades of Jerk

Maybe over a year ago, I reintroduced myself to the party promotions and night life that began over 10 years ago. The drinks were still flowing, patrons still partying, women laughing with champagne spilling from their mouths and cameos from celebrities that kept the socialites in attendance. Back in June, the multi-platinum selling rapper Nelly made a visit to a GOOD Fridays at Ono Nightclub. I didn’t realize how many hits he had until he began performing them. It was fun too. You have to appreciate chaser, adrenaline and 80 proof liquor blending with the nostalgia you feel from singing along right next to the artist himself, “…please believin’, me and the rest of my heathens. Check it, got it locked at the top of the four seasons, penthouse, roof top, birds I be feedin”

And that last line ricochet through my mind, as I watched the St. Louis icon that use to sport VOKAL tank tops and I began to reminisce. I thought about my first blind date and how I blame Nelly for it being my last blind date. It all began with me being too single, and by too single I mean I was on a drought. Just mirages of women giving me ass. One club night, I played wing man for my friend who was trying to finalize this slender girl he met at the club. Now I would’ve played wing man that club night but she didn’t come out with anyone. A couple days past and in the process of planning a date, she wants her friend to come so she can have an accomplice to engage in her debauchery.

So, I get the call from my homie, “bruh, Slim I met the other night at Roxy has a friend. You down?”

“But how does she look?” my only concern.

“Shiiiiddd, I have no idea but Slim looked good so…” and that very moment we came to the mutual belief in the law of attraction, like attracts like and I agreed to embark on my first blind date.

We set for an adventure, as hype as two kids off of Ritalin with all intentions of being heathens, to pick up these two young ladies. We were raised right. We went to the door, which was privacy suicide with them living in off-campus student apartments. In the evening, everyone is out and about, but that didn’t stop the mission. Slim opens the door, her and my home boy embrace, we speak and she introduces me to this golden skinned girl with this peculiar accent. It was a mix between low-key ratchet and twang, come to find out she was from St. Louis.

Real pretty young lady, I mean she had her baby hair slicked down, had some jeans hugging her hips and pretty little toes squished in some kitten heals. All I can think was, “..sucka for cornrows and manicured toes.” I know what you’re thinking but this was the early 2000’s. It being the first quarter of the date, we go to Chilli’s to make proper usage of those 2-4-1 drinks. We were having a fruitful conversation about the regional differences, gender roles and filth, my favorite subject. The flirts are firing on all cylinders and my mojo seemed to be working properly.

The four of us had a convection of chemistry flowing. In between the flirts, questions, slick comments and witty replies we all decided to head back to my homeboys place. He takes Slim straight to his bedroom. She and I ended up in the living room. At first we watched tv. A half hour passed and it was time to start the shooting of my shot. And she shot it back, her flirts were just as sexual as mine and all my younger self needed was a glimmer of hope of getting some ass, and it twinkled. I turned on some music to drown out the moans and slaps ‘this guy’ was trying to show off with coming through those thin-ass walls.

I guess she was feeling sexy or something because she asked “Can I dance for you?” I didn’t even say a word. The look on my face was confirmation alone.

“Hell yeah!” why would I turn that down? It had a 90% success rate. She obliged, and proceeds to give me a lap dance but with jeans on. Not the most ideal of hunching material but my goal was to go a step further, and I did. She took them off, hell she was down to just her thong. Then something weird happens. I don’t know how or who put Chingy on the CD labeled “Bedroom Boom 3”, but “Right Thurr” came on and she started going in convulsions, flipping her head and jerking her shoulders…this heffa was doing the ‘chicken head’ every time the hook dropped. The kicker is she would immediately go back into dancing sensual once the chorus was over.

All the adrenaline I had in my erection was out of there. And it didn’t stop at just that song. Every song that came on after that, she danced the ‘chicken head’ to in intervals. At this point I was basically watching National Geographic’s Channel and you see a cute indigenous girl dancing with her titties out. No matter what I did, I could not find her attractive any more. I pulled her back for a lap dance, you know friction is a natural aphrodisiac. Wrong! Tried imagining porn. Nope! For the life of me I could not get passed that medium erection stage the rest of the night. The thrill was gone. Every time I looked at her, all I could see is J Kwon “Tipsy” video flash before my eyes and her damn near naked doing the chicken head.

I finally gave up and basically told her I had some where to go pick up my roommate from downtown…after 1 o’clock in the morning. I drove her back home and went to sleep with something worse than blue balls that night. Dry nuts. I should’ve asked for her number that night so we could try again but I was too frustrated.

Ever since, I haven’t been able to listen to any Nelly song the same without thinking of her silhouette chicken head dancing in my mind and thinking to myself that if Nelly would’ve never discovered Chingy, Chingy would have never made “Right Thurr”, which would not have existed to be placed on the CD meant to accentuate the night for me to come out of that drought and indulge in some flesh…I know misplaced blame.

Moral of the story: Music really will soothe the savage beast, at the wrong time.

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