Don’t Play a Playa, Yo
Things have gotten a bit dramatic with The Man lately.
[gotta tell you: this post does not make me look good. I’m just asking you to try to see how it was possible to misunderstand his misleading intentions]
After I slept with him he called and text messaged me constantly for about a week. I kept it cool because, well, frankly he’s nobody I’m planning on spending an entire full-feature movie with, let alone the rest of my life. He was safely in the fuck buddy category, at least I thought as much because of the major Playa vibe he puts out. I mean come on. He’s a hip-hop artist whose songs talk about getting blow jobs from groupies and random chicks at bars. He flirts with every girl he meets. He is as arrogant and “I’m The Man” as they come. Which was why I thought he would be the perfect once-a-month fuck buddy.
Apparently, I was wrong. From the increasing anger of his text messages, he thought we were more serious than I thought we were.
