What’s that old saying: God protects babies and fools? Well I think on this experience the ultimate being upstairs classified me as a fool and kept a closer watch on me than usual. I think I am ultimately a nice person, forever a “half-full” type gal who tries my best to see the good in people. Often times people mistake that goodness for weakness though… Anyway on with the good stuff.

I’m in my familiar setting - the subway on my way to work and I catch the eye of a guy that is usually not my type - “the pretty boy.” Why is the “pretty boy” not my type? Well, I don’t consider a man manly enough if he doesn’t have the capacity to grow facial hair - no not that scraggly shit that people try to call a beard (a la Anthony Hamilton), NO! Full facial hair like Shaft or Fidel Castro in his younger days (ooh now that is sexy.) Hair growing capabilities is an absolute requirement. So anyway, on the train, this guy strikes up a conversation with me. He seems quite intelligent as we debate the artistic contributions of Quentin Tarantino and I’m intrigued. Certain bells start going off on my head telling me to run, but alas I stay put:

1. When I ask ” How old are you?” and he replies “25.” - I don’t do younger men! Stella has not Gotten her Groove going my way yet.

2. I notice he has a tattoo (which shouldn’t be a concern), but the shit is on his neck and it says “Romeo”
3. He’s carrying a Boss bag when he works at Diesel. (now you wonder why that would raise alarms, think about it would you be strutting around with the competition’s shopping bag, on your way to work?

I find out he’s a salesman at Diesel, which isn’t bad - hopefully some ambition there and we gotta start giving some play to the “blue-collar brothers” too. So I ignore the bells and classify him as a perfect jump-off candidate and we make a date to play pool, A nice, REGULAR date. But nothing seems to go regular with me.

So the evening comes and I am already for my date. I call to confirm our meeting place and he tells me “You know, I’m tired, so can we not do the pool thing tonight? Can we do a movie?” So I’m cool with that - you know - gotta roll with the punches. Then he slips in those golden words - “A movie at your house?” and I’m like WHAT?! I just met this dude and he already is trying to get into my place. . . for all I know,he could be a loony tune. So I throw him off and say, well we can meet at McDonald’s to talk. He gets all pissy and I’m really thinking to myself - whoa what the f***? But I’m a fool and I decide to indulge. I make a whole Mission: Impossible plan where my roommate comes with me to make sure that I don’t do something stupid. She is sitting within my eyesight in Mickey D’s just in case I have to abort. The whole plan is she will come in swinging with french fries in hand and swoop me out of there.

Okay, me and pretty boy sit and talk for a while and the sad thing is I’m so enamored with his looks that I forget that he is dumb as a brick. I mean since he is in jump off category, should intelligence matter? Yes - my intelligence matters.

In the course of a conversation I learn that he is a former stripper (AhHH!) - hence the tattoo on his neck, he isn’t actually a salesman, but actually a security guard (AHHHHH!!) AND the mutha f-er is HOMELESS!! (RUNNNN!!) Okay, maybe it’s his face that is killing me, but my dumb ass felt bad for his and decided to give him a place to stay for the night and a meal to eat. Yes i know what your thinking. . . (HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!!?!) Probably, but I do believe in random acts of kindness. I have been blessed in many ways by many people, so I figured that I can return the favor.

Why do people take kindness for weakness? So I bring him to the house and set him up with a comfy pillow and blanket on the couch and this N*gga has the nerve to say to me -” You know, when I had my place, I kept it in better condition - it was spotless.” I wonder if my head spun like the chick in the exorcist, because that was when the ungrateful behavior began. I kept it cool and went on about my business. The next morning, this dumb muthafucker then goes on to complain about it being too hot, the fact that no one washed his clothes, his shiny new Jordans were scuffed, so they needed to be clean and the fact that he was running late to work because no one woke him up. Okay - I truly believe that I am a patient person because I smiled and wished him a good morning, showed him the laundromat across the street, gave him a napkin for his sneakers and went about my business, trying my best not to break his arm. Then the straw that broke the camel’s back, he wanted to be “playful” and start play wrestling me to show is “manly” dominance. See what people don’t know about kindness is the fact that kindness can whoop somebodies ass with the quickness. I may be refined, but don’t let the Bronx come out - otherwise, I am not responsible for what happens.

Okay, I know the fact that he had Jordan’s - and new ones at that should have been my final clue to kick him to the curb, but the play fighting actually was. There is something about pretty boys that warp their brains to make them believe that not only are they the prettiest, but those pretty muscles that they have actually make them physically strong. Umm, not so. . . So I had no choice, but to punk him - I grabbed his arm in such a way that if he moved wrong, I would break his wrist and was prepared to do so. That was my wake up call - getting hood on someone doesn’t make for good relations, so out the door he went.

749,996 got punked out by a girl; but also provided me a serious wake-up call; kindness is earned not given.