Chasing The P: Monique

Chasing The P: Monique

            Chasing the P (sex) has led me on some A LOT A TON of adventures. A TON. The adventures of Marcus and I alone could fill a book. A TOME! But the more interesting stories are the ones that led me to unexpected places. The stories within a story are the ones I like most. And there is one in particular.

            I’ll share it now

Monique

It was 2003. I had just gotten back to Los Angeles from New Orleans. That party was NOT over! My boy Seth was promoting. I was there. Seth and I had been clubbing free for years, since 1996. That’s another story. Focus!

The crew that night was Seth, Greg, Kevin and I. Seth was always the DD back then. We all piled in Greg’s dually wheeled Chevy. The place was Sky Sushi aka Hoodrat Heaven. Loose women galore! That night was special. Someone important in Baldhead Productions had died. We were toasting Billy Jack all night.

Kevin had just turned 21 so he was still a lightweight. A month earlier I had gotten him so drunk, he threw up on his brand new Jordans, which were still inside a shoebox at the time. I intended on keeping an eye on him. We go hard but we don’t do throw up.

I ended up chasing Kevin from bar to bar cutting him off. He’d been on Adios Motherfuckers two at a time all night. I was just waiting on him to fall down any moment anyway. It was time to hunt P anyway He found one last bar in VIP. He juked me and made his way towards the bar cutting across the dance floor. Kevin (Little Kevin, there was no big Kevin) is at least a foot smaller than me and very slim. He swam through the crowded dance floor like a snake through water. I on the other hand ended up running smack dab into a girl who immediately started grinding on me. I checked my watch. It was indeed time for the P. I said forget Kevin. “Let me see what’s up with the P” The way she was dancing said I might salvage something out of the night.I cupped a cheek and it was all systems go!

I did the obligatory name check. I was Jason. She was slurring or it was too loud to catch, so I invited her to the couches on the balcony so we could talk. Also, the light was better. I wanted to see what I was working with. I took a step to lead her in that direction and immediately realized I had been holding her up the whole time. She dropped STRAIGHT to the floor. STRAIGHT DOWN! In all my years of drinking and seeing people fall down, no one fell that quickly or directly to the ground.

If only the panties dropped that quick… only the panties! She dropped with the panties still on.

“Oh shit! This bitch done died!”

I picked her up quickly so no one would think I killed her. I carried her to the same couches where I intended to make my move. Instead of sitting down with her and instigating the stimulating conversation I’m known for, I plopped her ‘dead’ body across the corner of the couch. I hoped to be able to prop her up in the corner.

I got her name out of her. Not one the most coherent conversations. IT took quite a while for just a name. I couldn’t get a friends name. Someone had to rescue me from this. I didn’t drive. I could barely get her name. How would I find out where she lived even if I could get her home. So I went to the DJ for help. He gave her a shout out for her friends. No one responded. Panic started to set in. The club was closing and this girls was lost. She couldn’t come with us. I was on a P mission and my mom told me not to try drunk girls. She said they would just throw up on me. And, as hardheaded as I am, I had already learned on my own by this time.

She saved herself from being left on the couch by saying she remembered where her car was parked. Thank God. I would have to carry her down the loooonnnnng stairs and two blacks around the corner. Did I mention the loooonnnnnng escalators the only way in and out AND they were turned off? I passed Seth on the way out.

“Come on! We been looking for you. We’re out of here.”

“Just give me a minute to walk her to her car.”

“Fuck that drunk bitch. We’re leaving you.”

“Leave then. Fuck it. I’ll walk!”

The car was not that far. Luckily her friends showed up just as we did. Her purse was safe. I was a hero. A bunch of thank yous from the friends. I turned red. But I had to go catch Seth and Greg.

I didn’t have to go too far to get to where the Dually was parked. Unfortunately, they were gone. I called Greg. I could barely hear him over the noise. They were at another party or Jerry’s (it turned out to be Jerry’s).

“Tell old girl to drop you here”

“I already left them. Don’t trip”

I walked.

Fatigue had set in. I had a weird, wild, looong night. I was on Fairfax and Santa Monica. It was nearly a straight shot home. Unfortunately, Los Angeles is not a 24 hour city. The busses had just stopped running. Cabs don’t come to cell phones. I had no address to tell them. So I walked.

The initial plan was to walk to an address. But leaving from the more conservative edge of West Hollywood, going through the Yiddish part of town to my side of town at three in the morning, no such luck.

It was nine miles. It took two hours. I started out mad. But by the time I got home I was good. I did a good thing. I did tell my boys to leave me. I was non the owrse. I crashed out.

That was just the intro. This story ain’t over.

Six months later, I had moved out and got a house with Greg. Pure bachelor pad. We each had waterbeds. (So throwback) The kitchen had a bar in it. The living room had a pool table. Focus.

One night Greg and I went out with my Immaculate Heart’s home girls. (another book). We stopped at someone’s apartment to meet up. A girl was there I’d never seen before. I had action! It was a satellite friend. Not wanting to be obvious I went into sniper mode. Maybe I could pick her off while no one was looking. She was slim. I was into that at the time. And then, like Rich Boy, God threw some Ds on that girl! Whew! I had to have her.

She started complaining about her boyfriend. Same story. He ain’t shit. She don’t know why she puts up with his bitch assedness. He wants to live together but ain’t got no job. Blah Blah Blah…

I wanted to say - Stop complaining. You either like him or you don’t. He either ain’t shit or he is. I was tired of girls saying what they want and choosing the opposite. Dump him or shut up.

It was time to drink.

In fact, Shallona did say that. She stopped talking about him after that. We just went out and had fun. Greg and I ended up riding with Shallona and her. They dropped Greg and I home. We dropped cards on them. Greg and I were players.

I ended up getting a call from Monique a day or two later. Greg left something in her car. She’d be happy to bring it over. Greg was gone. I was home alone. Monique came. (wink) I invited her to stay a while and chill. She agreed. We played cards and talked.

She was a teacher. Teachers are hot. She lived with her parents in Pasadena. I was right off the 110. She didn’t have anything to do that Saturday. Her boyfriend played basketball in a grown up park league. She didn’t like to go there. She felt like he was cheating on her with some of the girls there. The girls liked to get in her face. I’m sure he was. The girls were just rubbing it in her face. I can spot a cheater halfway around the world.

I offered her a drink. She said she didn’t drink much. She had a wild experience at a club. My ears perked up! I like drunk stories. And maybe there was a freak underneath. So I asked. She just said she drank too much and didn’t remember how she got home. Apparently her homeboy had died and they were in funeral mode AKA a lot of liquor. I’d been there. Maybe she needed to talk and I could get her to open up the freak. So we talked. I finally asked who died.

“Billy-Jack”

“Billy-Jack?”

“Were yall at Sky Sushi?”

“Yes”

“I walked home from there that same night”

“Really? You were there?”

“Yeah I helped a girl to her car and lost my ride.”

I told he all about that night. I started with little Kevin and as I was telling her about the girl, we both realized she was the girl. She filled in her part.

She had staggered out of VIP where the liquor was REALLY flowing. She didn’t remember what she drank only that there were lots of glasses of it. She had asked her girlfriend who I was. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my cards back then. Her friend had to tell her about me. Homegirl made me sound like a knight in shining armor.

I looked into her eyes. I had her. One problem. I didn’t do girlfriends. She didn’t do casual. I understood. Into the entourage she’d go.

It meant we’d be friends. We liked each other. Things just wouldn’t work. Carl Thomas was in order. Then I had a mission to steal her from her boyfriend without committing to anything. 5 years later, Dream sung the song and I felt nostalgia for Monique.

We really started hanging out. She told me all about Jesse. I listened. She met Jesse two weeks after the Sky Sushi episode. He pushed up on her tough. She fell for it. Her parents didn’t like him. His mother thought she was too good for him. I thought so too.

She told Jesse the Sky Sushi story including the update about us running into each other and hanging out. Jesse didn’t like that. They fought about her coming over. I guess she won. She still came over.

She wanted us to all hang out. I guess she wanted me to see what she saw in him. Or maybe, I was supposed to rub off on him. The ambition. The independence. Then she’d have it all. It didn’t work

She was afraid of Jesse. I began to think there was violence in their relationship. That got my blood boiling. I don’t do hitting women. Later, I realized he just played her like a violin. He was all talk. She was more afraid of the confrontation that would arise if she stood up for herself and left him. All the jaw jacking that would ensue. Sometimes people would rather a physical fight over being talked at.

Karen invited Greg and I to a hotel party with Monique and Jesse. Finally, I’d get to see him. I’d get to see the loser in person. On the way, Karen told us our names were Sean and Chris. Karen and Monique didn’t want any trouble. Whatever! I just wanted to see this loser up close.

The hotel was what I expected. A motel. The kind of place without a lobby, concierge or room service. The party was a gathering. That’s all that would fit anyway. There were only a couple of friends. Monique and Karen were the only girls. Being that Jesse lived with his mom, apparently, he and his friends just needed a place to smoke weed and chill. It was a sad scene

Greg and I came to drink. We drank what little they had. I may have had to hit my flask. Sitting there was excruciating. Monique couldn’t talk to me. We had good conversations. Karen was sticking to Greg and me. Jesse was smoking with his boys. Monique was left all alone. We were ready to leave quickly. We played it off for a while. We didn’t want to leave Monique. I didn’t want to leave her. Karen checked on her before we left. She was good. That was the life she chose.

Liberating a woman completely is a tough task. Any fool can convince a woman who’s into relationships to switch. What I was trying to do was get Monique to stand on her own. It was a test of endurance and patience. And if some P fell my way in the midst, that was good too! It took all of my focus. Any wrong step could damage her for life. I must admit that I damaged a few women with my rash choices. I wanted to be different so I did this different.

I almost had her. Day by day. Inch by inch. Drink by drink. I built her confidences up. Slowly she let her guard down. I was one step away from liberation when I gave up.

In the end, I chickened out. I was moving to Vegas soon so I let her off the hook. I can say why I really let her off the hook.

Monique was a woman who could be perfectly happy in the stability of a bad relationship. Who was I to change that? Maybe all the knight in shining armor talk went to my head. I chase P. End of story.

Jesse won. They’re married with a child now. She definitely ain’t going nowhere. He knows that. They have a regular L.A. working class life. They’re content.

My dad said he learned something from every woman he ever dated. I’d like that to be true for me too. I can’t say I dated Monique but we spent enough time together for me to learn something. (And she is a teacher)

I guess she showed me what kind of man I was. What I was capable of and what I would actually do. I loved her. She just wasn’t for me.

If I hadn’t let Monique off the hook, I’d have won. But what would I have won? I’d have let Monique be my girlfriend for as long as it took for the lie to catch us. I would have messed up, possibly damaging her irreparably.

At least this way, she can just be herself. God willing, she got enough confidence and independence from me make it work. Who knows? Time will tell…