Blue Baller

I apologize to whoever reads my blog because I suck at remembering to write stuff down. But I have a juicy story that will hopefully regain your confidence in me:

So let me start by saying I’ve been seeing someone fairly regularly. In fact it’s the same boy, Chanel, who was mentioned in my last (and very outdated) post. Except we haven’t been seeing each other very “regularly” at all because for the entire summer we are living in separate cities. But before summer began, we spent about a month getting to know each other and things were looking pretty positive before our summer separation. However we decided that we wouldn’t start anything serious due to our distance this summer. We both said “we’ll see what happens when we both come back into town” because you never know who you’re going to meet.

And meet someone I did……

I’ve always told myself that I would never go after a football player. They are all the same – they text you ridiculous 3 word messages anytime after 2am, basically all leading to the same conclusion: they just want to bone. But I thought Blue Baller was different. I even advocated for his intelligence and gentlemen qualities. HA stupid me.

So just a short back story: I have a summer internship with an amazing company in the Pacific NW. There are about 100+ other interns as well, and we tend to do a lot of intern events. That’s where I met him; the flawless, incredibly sexy black football player who played me better than he plays his own damn sport.

At first I wasn’t interested. I was actually interested in a different intern before I learned that he had a girlfriend (so that ship quickly sailed). But the more I learned about Blue Baller the more I thought he might be different from the stereotypical football-playing, womanizing asshole. He was intelligent, well-spoken, stylish and friendly with a smile that could light up the darkest of caves and eyes the color of the world’s sweetest chocolate. Although he walked like he constantly had a stick up his ass (I’m assuming because he was always sore from working out), he would always wear tight shirts that defined every single muscle in his chest, stomach and arms. Every time our paths would cross I would have to try so hard not to touch him.

I was very proud of myself the first night we hung out – I did not pursue, HE DID. He was the one who kissed me first, and by complete surprise I might add. He was the one who said “I’ve been interested in you since day one.” He was the one who said “I want you to come watch me play football and wear my jersey in the stands.” He was the one who said “you’re nothing like the girls back home.” He was the one who took initiative for us to hang out in the first place. And of course, me being me, I loved the fact that I for once wasn’t the pursuer. That one night was perfect. We went dancing, got drinks, donuts and walked around downtown until the wee hours of the morning. I felt like I was living a dream.

After that night I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I was confused, because I had Chanel and cared about him so much, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Blue Baller. From what seemed to be a flawless night of fun between us opened so many doors to a fun-filled summer. But apparently boys change their minds over night….

The following weekend we made plans to go out again. Only this time, Blue Baller was acting funny. He wasn’t showing nearly as much interest as the first night, almost as if everything he had said had come from a completely different person. Our kisses weren’t nearly as passionate and real, his touch wasn’t as caring and exciting. Unfortunately alcohol got the better of me that night and I made a huge mistake. I somehow found myself back at his apartment late at night with a belly full of tequila and my mind on one thing. And clearly that’s all he wanted. But that’s not all I wanted – I wanted something more, something real. So why did I go through with it? Why did I decide to let some hot, sweet-talking football player take me on a “magic carpet ride?” And how did that make me feel afterwards? Like shit. Especially since all I could think about afterwards was Chanel.

And of course Blue Baller and I haven’t talked since. It’s only been a few days, and I’m sure our first at-work encounter will be nothing less than the most awkward thing ever.

So my advice to you, readers. Go with your gut. Never trust football players, no matter how smart and sweet they may seem. In fact it’s the smarter ones you need to watch out for – they know how to play the game. And if you have a good thing going with a boy, don’t potentially mess it up by drunkenly sleeping with some hot coworker. I may not be in a relationship with Chanel, but I feel so guilty for what I did.

And it also hurt. A lot. What they say about black guys is true.