This Shit Ain't a Fairy Tale

... Solange, huh?

Wait – is it just me, or does she remind anyone else of Joan from Girlfriends?

Anyway, I cannot tell a lie. I’m actually digging this broad right now. Especially that Sandcastle song. I was at the gym this morning, listening to it on repeat as I was getting my treadmill on.

“I’m a cool ol’ Jane
With a skip on my feet
I play tough as nails
With my heart on my sleeve
I’m nothing but a sandcastle
Baby don’t blow me away

Baby, I know you do that to all the girls
Know that I’m fragile
Bay ba ba babe baby
Don’t blow me away”

Speaking of the gym, guess who’s made a reappearance?

Champ.

Right? I haven’t seen him in over a month and this fool just shows up the first day of my vacation. It was a Saturday and I was pulling out of my parking space. I’d done a good cardio workout so my skin was glowing; I had on my sunglasses, and had just applied a coat of lip gloss. All of a sudden he was in my rearview mirror and then seconds later, looking down on me through my open sunroof.

I like a man who looks down at me – literally, ladies, not figuratively.

I did some of my legendary flirting before I realized that we were holding up traffic all half in my parking space, half in the lane, so I said my good byes and waved, leaving him staring at my car driving off.

Loves it.

Well, then I was on vacation for a week and yesterday it was all I could do to drag myself into the gym, but I did. I had been on the elliptical machine for about twenty minutes before I felt someone walking up beside me and climbing on the machine next to me. Champ.

“Well, good morning, Sunshine. It’s nice to see you back,” I said.

“I had hurt my ankle playing ball.”

“And we all know how delicate you are…”

“I’m in pain now.”

“Poor baby. But I did wonder about you. I had made the enchiladas you asked for, and you disappeared,” I lied.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me, but it’s my word against yours and I am the only one that was here, so you don’t really get a vote,” I furthered my lie.

“When are you going to cook again?”

“That’s how you roll, just have everyone cooking for you?”

“I don’t force anyone, they’re happy to do it. I just go over and eat – get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I didn’t say anything, my mind wasn’t in the gutter,” I lied for the third time that conversation, “What do you cook?”

“I don’t.”

“I tell you what,” I suggested, “How about I teach you to make the enchiladas and then you can wow the ladies.”

“I actually do want to watch you cook – be in the kitchen with you and everything. I gotta make sure you aren’t one of those voodoo girls and you don’t put a spell on me. I’ll stand behind you the entire time.”

“I am not no voodoo girl. And my kitchen is too small for you to be hawking me,” I said to this big ol’ tasty man.

“It’ll be tight but we’ll make it work.”

He went to the sauna but ever since I found out I have a mild case of anemia my doctor has forbade the sauna for me. I kept exercising, leaving him to sweat alone. (This time.)

We both leave the gym at 6 AM, and ended up next to each other at the light. He was in the lane to turn left, I was going straight. He rolled down his window indicating that I should do the same.

“What,” I asked as he stared at me, “Do you want me to bring you the enchiladas tomorrow?”

“I want them tonight.”

“Well come over and get them, then,” I challenged.

“But I don’t have your number,” he said as my light turned green.

Let’s face it. Champ ain’t about shit. I know he has a girl even if he’s not saying. And quite frankly, there is something going on between Steve and I – even if it is vague and intangible. And since they are both local boys, messing with Champ would be like shitting where I eat. No thank you.

But damn if I don’t wanna just climb all over Champ and lick him in inappropriate places. I blame Steve and this ‘let’s stop having hot monkey sex and come meet my mama and sister’ crap. By the way, I also think that Steve might have latent ‘sex is dirty so I go repent every Sunday and if you have sex with me you’re even more of a sinner’ issues, but that’s a whole different post.

Damn! I just dripped some soup on my blouse. Let me go eat in in relative cleanliness.

(HGE, am I forgiven? This makes two posts in two days…)