Non-Qualifiers Vol. 1

I was talking to my cradle to the grave best friend earlier and we got talking about our exes, so I decided to create a series of posts dedicated to the former Mr. La Bella Noires. I would post their pictures, but I just can't be bothered with all of the scanning and photoshopping. Ehh well. I'll be posting more of them over the next few weeks.

First up, Mr. I'm too sexy for my car...

I met this dude not long after I moved to the Urrea, and at first all seemed well. Then I met his car. Mr. I'm too sexy is one of those men that when you look at him you find yourself physically attracted to him, but without logical explanation cuz he really isn't hot. He's a big looks like he should always be sweaty linebacker type guy with some questionable facial hair and an unidentifiable hairline. Thank the stars above he keeps his head shaved.

He thinks he is one of the fast and the furious, driving one of those TINY little Honda Civic Si hatchbacks even though he can barely fit. He thinks he's hot shit because he tricked the mini-mobile out with a racing header, an air intake, and a fart-can exhaust. You can hear this lil thing coming a mile away, but he swears it's FAST. Nah son, your car is LOUD. His only concern is how fast he can make the vehicle do the quarter-mile straightaway.

Date night included trips to Rockville to sit in a gotdamned parking lot looking at other people's souped up Civics. Nevermind that he was older than most of those kids, and most of them were Asian college students with hot girlfriends and money to burn. "I want the carbon-fiber hood, so I'll trade you my exhaust for your hood" or "Yo, what are your Dyno tune numbers??" or worse yet "I'mma hook up my laptop cuz I got Hondata". I grew up around cars and racing, so I understood the lingo, but damn can we see a movie without a mention of a car? I can't tell you how many times we ended up eating dinner at Ihop with the rest of his car cohorts.

Every weekend that included Saturday and Sunday (that would be every fargin weekend), I heard "I'm gonna go to the track and see what my times are since I changed out my (insert random car part here)". It seemed like something always had to be fixed or changed out on that thing. And the difference in time trials was negligible. God forbid we were on the Beltway at night and we saw some other souped up foreign vehicle...it was race time. Occasionally we'd hit 100+ mph. Not cute for a sista with the window open. Can we say, hair.fucked.completely.up??

Honestly, I was okay with the car-love for a while. I have lead-foot tendencies myself, so being around fast cars was fun for a very short time. But things hit the shitter when I realized that he loved his car more than he liked me. How you gon' put more investment in a car than in a human being? Over the few months that we were together, he spent more than $8000 for his car, but only $15 for my birthday--a card and flowers. Celebration of the car's birthday, special car washes before we went somewhere remotely considered special (i.e. cookout, party). Like he had to stunt or something. How can you stunt when you look all smashed up in the driver's seat, homey??

Things came to a grinding halt when he spewed some BS about him still having feelings for the ex. Ehh, whateva. Boo boo was mad because I called him out about his car and told him he might want to slow down spending $$ on his baby and work on moving out.of.his.mamas.house. At age 27+, there is no excuse for having to sneak your freak because you might wake your mama.

We're still okay friends now and he's got a new wifey, so I'm legitimately happy for him. But Mr. I'm too sexy, welcome to the Non-Qualifiers file.