One time, at boot camp…
Back in the days when I was a night clubholic (which lasted about 6 months..pfth!) I didn’t care actually who I danced with, I just wanted to have fun (and make fun of the guy I danced with).
In one of those many nights, I met this HOT chocolate man; I was sitting with my best friend in one of the nearest tables in the entrance so we could check out all the guys who came in and out of the club and there he came inside; from where we were sitting, we could only see part of his body and that part of his body was way too fine, shaved head, great abs, great muscles, and a very nice bootie.
He noticed our looks; he checked us out for a long time. He was alone and it was perfect, I thought he was checking out on my best friend, she’s very popular with guys, I never catch a fly but I did catch a drunk bad smelling bastard wanting to dance with me which sucked.
Then I see he wants to come over, I tell my friend, my friend turns around and sees my current boyfriend (he wasn’t my boyfriend back then) coming towards our table and sitting down with us. I thought “how rude, this guy is sitting here and we didn’t even invite him”. Hot chocolate then stepped back and found his way to the bar table. My best friend and I were mad at this intruder and very anxious for him to leave so we could leave space for hot chocolate.
A few minutes later, BF (not yet BF back then) said goodbye and left the club. My friend and I were happy and waited for hot chocolate to come back as I knew he was still checking us out from far away on the bar table. As hot chocolate approached, my friend and I could take a complete look of his body:
Friend: What the hell is that?
Friend: There, his shoes, looks like he deep fried them and put the on!
Me: Oh my God! Looks like he stole the witch’s shoes from the wizard of Oz!
Friend: Hell he’s not coming over here with those shoes!
Me: Too late woman, he’s heading your way…ha ha! You’re getting the guy with the ugliest shoes in the…what the hell!
Hot Chocolate no more: (with this Mike Tyson voice) Hi, I was checking you out checking at me from far away, wanna dance?
Friend: Ha ha! Looser (she whispered to my ear)
Me: Um, alright, but just one.
I get up from the chair and wow, where’s the rest of this guy? Am I stepping on a step maybe? Cause he’s too short, I mean, way short.
It was the most embarrassing moment of my life. If someone had a video camera and taped us I would have won the “America’s funniest home videos” prize. Forget about the pointy Aladdin shoes; the dance, that dance I’ll never forget for as long I have memory.
How can I describe his dance moves?
An Ostrich trying to breed with a female?
A penguin being chased by a polar bear?
A pigeon walking and eating bread crumbs?
Or better yet, like a chicken trying to dig out a worm.
I could see my best friend turning blue from the laughter as well as the other people on the dance floor and the people on the tables. Everybody was laughing at him/us, no I didn’t felt it, I heard it everywhere around me.
I didn’t dance one piece with him like I said, I danced for the rest of the evening with him, not because I wanted to but because he pulled me to, and actually I didn’t dance, I just stood there looking at him and trying to understand what he was doing. “Come on girl, just feel the music and let yourself go”, he said as he went swirling/twitching/curling from one point of the dance floor to the other. I gave up and in one of those twirls I grabbed him by the arm and said I wanted to sit down.
The guy was hyper, he was weird, he kept talking in this weird brotha language in a Donald duck’s voice I could not follow his conversation, so I just nodded at everything he said. I think in one of those nods he asked if he could take me out because he asked me for my phone number and if I had weeknights free because he said he was busy on weekends or what ever. I just nodded. I wanted to leave right away, I didn’t want to stay one minute longer, so as soon as I could escape from his conversation I turned around and I see my best friend making out with a guy, I thought “Oh great, now I’m stuck here for the rest of the night with this weirdo; I’ll have to take the best out of it”. So I put my ears in “mute mode” as I checked out his body (except the feet); and what a better way to shut one up but with a kiss. Yes I kissed him, with the curly shoes and the annoying voice I kissed him, but I just thought of those huge muscles and I forgot all about it. The guy got all excited and happy, “give me your real phone number”, he said, “What the! How did he know I gave him a fake number?” I thought; he insisted so much and I felt bad for him so I gave him my real phone number, I didn’t realize till later that week that I have made a. Big Mistake.
The night club was closed after a couple of hours, so we had to leave, the guy was literally attached to me like a tick and he wanted to go home with me and make me happy, at least that’s what he said; I don’t think so, instead, I offered him a ride to the border ‘cause he was from the US. I drove around the border but didn’t know exactly where to drop him so I could make a U turn and head back home because neither my friend or I had a visa to cross the border with him; my friend saw the U turn on the other side of the road and said “oh oh, you’re heading to the border booth” No I’m not, am I? Oh shit! And there I was with my friend and the choco-man making line to cross the border without papers and no way to turn around and go back, so I panicked, and while I panicked my “mute mode” ears turned off and I was hearing Donald duck again calming me down and saying everything was going to be ok.
We get to the Inspector’s booth and asks for our papers, and before I could say a word to him the choco-man started squeaking his voice to my ear talking to the inspector that we made a mistake by crossing here because he wanted to be dropped on the other side but I missed a turn and blah blah blah. The Inspector shut him up and asked me what was going on, and I explained to him exactly what happened. Of course the inspector didn’t believe any of our stories and sent us directly to secondary inspection escorted by two armed men. There they took us by the arm to an office where they sat us down and called us one by one asking us the same questions to verify if we were telling the truth; we all got fingerprinted and filed. While I was waiting for my friend to finish the interrogatory choco man still wanted to play Mr. Love and kept insisting on seeing me in the future.
At the end the police let us go and separated us from choco man (that was the best part of all that mess), but that’s not all; choco man made a dramatic scene like in a romance movie where he is being taken away from the woman of his life, you know how:
“Yolandaaaaa please don’t forget meeeee, promise you will call meeeeeee, pleaaaaseeee promiseeeeee”
“Alright I promise” I turned around while getting into my car still escorted by those big armed men.
“You made a complete ridiculous out of yourself,” My friend said angrily. “Have you seen your face?” “What’s wrong with my face” I said. “You have red lipstick all over you look like a freaking clown!” Damn, no wonder why the police who was taking my statement stared at me with a weird look on his face.
At least I got rid of the choco man for that night and I never expected he would ever call me and I didn’t want him to call me either. I remember he gave me his phone number with his name on it but I forgot where I put it and also forgot his name until 3 days later when I picked up the phone and it was him, how did I know? How can squeaky voice like his be forgotten?
I told him before that I lived with my parents and that I was never alone in the house, so when I knew it was him I denied myself and said I didn’t speak English. He tried calling over and over for about 2 or 3 hours more and I kept hanging up on him; day after day he would keep calling until I finally reached the top of my head and told him I didn’t want to see him. That broke his heart, I know because he began crying and weeping on the phone saying he was sorry for all the trouble he caused me. With that we said our goodbyes and hung up. Over the weekend as I took my clothes to the washer I checked the pockets on my jacket and found a little ball of paper, I opened it up and it was a napkin with a name on it and a phone number, his phone number. “Donald 555-0909”
Oh, now I know why he has this squeaky voice. Ha!
To be continued…