are laughing and pointing, and others just watch. Homeboy’s eyes start to tear up as I continue to squeeze his nuts. I finally let them go and he falls to his knees, clutching his hands between his legs. Every male in the club gets the message: I’m nothing to play with.
I return to the bar and order a Long Island Ice Tea. A few men gape at me as I sip my drink. I know they want to approach me, but after that little incident on the dance floor, they’re probably feeling hesitant. It’s cool. I’m not in the mood for any more negative male attention anyway; after dealing with Mr. Too Ugly and Mr. Touchy Feely, my need for male company has disappeared.
I continue to drink and chill at the bar. I see Sasha with Cell on the dance floor. She’s feeling all over him. There’s no shame in her game. The bartender’s smiling at me as he serves me my fourth free drink. Still, I’m not interested; he’s too beefy for me. I like a brotha who’s slim and cut up with a nice, long dick, smooth skin, good hair and a nice butt. He also has to have a good job—or at least some kind of income and a little integrity to go with it. The man has got to respect himself, and he definitely has to respect me. He must know that I’m not a sex toy, somewhere to stick his dick. If a good man treats me with respect and dignity, then I’ll treat him like he’s my world. I’ll do anything in my power to satisfy him and take care of him, as long as he is willing to do the same for me. My pussy would always be open and willing to receive him.
I look at the time. It’s a quarter to eleven and I’m getting restless and bored, even though I’m still receiving free drinks. The club is getting overcrowded, and the cuties are becoming less interesting to me. I don’t want to be touched or approached by anyone. I’m feeling a little tipsy, and I’m not in the mood for stupidity. The deejay throws on Doo Doo Brown by Luke, a former 2 Live Crew member, and the whole club goes crazy. Everyone starts rubbing and grinding on each other. There’s sweating and bumping, and girls are hiking up their skirts. I can’t front; every time I hear this jam, I want to get my grind on and feel up on a niggah, too—especially a really cute one.
Some niggah abruptly grabs me by the arm, indicating for me to follow him into the crowd. I tell him no; you just don’t be pulling on me like I’m some fuckin’ rope. I give him a nasty glare. He gets the hint. Now I’m feeling another niggah close up behind me, pushing his pelvis into me. Damn, his dick is already hard. I turn around. It’s Mr. Too Ugly! Oh, my god! No, he didn’t. I’m so angry that I shove his ugly ass, pushing him into another girl, who falls into some guy. Mr. Too Ugly looks embarrassed, but I really don’t give a fuck at all how he feels at this point. You just don’t be pushing your nasty self up against me like that. He’s brazen; I give him that.
Bitches start to stare. I stare back. I’ll scratch out every last one of these bitch’s eyes up in this club. I make my way back to the ladies bathroom. Sasha comes in behind me, pulling down her stink hoochie dress.
“What’s the matter, Shana?” she asks me, like she doesn’t already know.
“Nothing!” I tell her while fixing my hair. I have no words for her for the rest of the night.
Other bitches start coming into the bathroom, whispering amongst each other and staring hard at me. I know they’re saying dirty things. “If y’all bitches got anything nasty to say about me, come say it to my fucking face! I’ll bring it to any one of y’all fake bitches up in here!” I shout.
They all just look, but none of them has the courage to say anything. I throw up my middle finger and go on with my business. Sasha scowls at me and gives me attitude. She walks out to go back and tend to her dilly ass man. If she wants to act up, she can get it, too.
After checking myself in the mirror, I leave the bathroom. My temper and attitude is on high volume. I look hard at every niggah and bitch who pass my way. It’s definitely time for me to leave, but Cell is my only ride. And I’m not trying to hitchhike with some perverted, no-pussy- gettin’ niggah, who thinks just because I’m riding in his car he has the right to put his hands all over me.
I approach Sasha at around two a.m. She’s dancing and hugging up on Cell, and I pull her to the side, away from him. “I’m ready to go,” I tell her.
“Don’t be pulling on me,” she spits. We’ve both gotten on each other’s nerves tonight. I can see in her face that she wants to fuck me up for having been such a bitch. But she knows better. “I’ll see if Cell’s ready, bitch!” she says harshly. Fuck her, too.
Mr. Too Ugly appears. He’s so embarrassed that he can’t even look at me. I laugh and walk away from him. I go back to the bar, and the bartender slips me another free drink, but this time he also gives me his number written on a napkin. I give him a little smile, and then I crumble it up and drop it to the floor when he turns away.
We finally prepare to leave the club at two-thirty. On the way out, Cell stops and gives everyone he knows dap and chats for a few seconds here and there. He must think he’s the fucking man because he was able to get us in here for free. I have to laugh. We all pile in his truck and leave. Mr. Too Ugly finally got the hint; he doesn’t say a word to me. He doesn’t even look at me. Unable to take it anymore, I look over at him and ask, “Why are you so ugly?” He still doesn’t give me eye contact. Sasha knows she wants to laugh, but she never looks back at me.
“Yo, why you trying to play my man out like that?” Cell asks defending his friend.
“Ain’t nobody trying to play your man out. He played himself out thinking he could get with me,” I reply. It’s on now. I’m about to rank on the both of them. They ruined my night, so now I’m about to ruin theirs. “Look at your man. He would never see my pussy, no matter how hard he tried,” I say laughing.
“You think you’re all that! You ain’t nothing but a stuck-up, stink-ass bitch!” Cell says.
“Niggah, don’t get jealous because you’re not sniffing it, too. I don’t even know why Sasha is with your ugly ass.”
“Shana, chill,” Sasha pleads.
“Bitch, you need to chill—or wake up! I’ve seen you date much better looking guys than him. That niggah look like a fucking spider monkey! He tryin’ to be sexy in that tight, banana-looking muscle shirt. How you gonna wear a muscle shirt with a gut big as yours?” I say to Cell.
“Fuck you, bitch!” he shouts.
“Yeah, you wish…don’t get mad when you know I speak the truth.”
Cell quickly makes a short stop at the light; he almost ran it arguing with me. I jerk forward. So does everyone else in the truck. Mr. Too Ugly just sits there in silence. Shit, not only is he ugly, but he lets me dis him in front of his man. If you’re gonna be ugly, at least have heart, be a man and stand up for yourself. I knew he was pussy.
“Yo, Sasha, I’m about to throw that fake bitch out of my car,” Cell warns.
“Fake bitch! Niggah, you need not talk, with your tight little dick,” I say, throwing up my small pinky and wiggling it high for him to see.
“What?” he says stunned.
“All that gut and a penis lost somewhere under it,” I add to the insult.
“Fuck y’all bitches!” he says looking directly at Sasha.
I look over at Mr. Too Ugly and see him crying and staring out the window. This niggah is pitiful.
“Take me home, you fat, small-dick, no-pussy-gettin’, stink-ass niggah!” I say to him. Sasha tries to put her two cents in, but Cell curses her out. That leads to an argument. Jimmy remains quiet in the corner.
The ride home is full of insults. Sasha and I are arguing with each other, too, now. The shit gets so crazy, and this punk niggah kicks me out of his truck and tells my ass to walk home. Sasha doesn’t even stand up for a sista; she continues to sit there in the front seat and lets the niggah put me out of his truck. But I don’t stress it. Fuck that bitch!
Two days later, Sasha and I have it out in