749,995 must be my lucky number because love has bitten yous truly and apparently isn’t wanting to let go.

So rewinding to edition II, I told you about my EX-citing day from hell featuring EX’s 1, 2 & 3 and following the advice of a comment (shout out to Mega Rich!!) I decided to e-mail EX #3 back and take him up on his offer for lunch at his home. [For those of you that haven't been reading along, EX #3 was the actor/voice-over artist that ended up being trifling.] Of course things don’t go as they seem.

A bit of history on EX #3, so the reason why I named this May/December relations is the fact that he is old enough to be my father! The fact that he can actually remember the March on Washington and where he was when Kennedy was shot gives history a whole new spin. Yes, I’m dating pops, a fine ass man, but still pops.

We set up the date - a safe 1pm, at his house/love den; and he even gives me a choice of meal, the oh so healthy and sexy Caesar with salmon and Pinot Grigio. This combination seems ripe with booty call connotations right? So the day of, I am getting dressed - trying to figure out if I should wear the matching bra and undies set just in case or should I say “fuck it all’ and go Granny pannies? (I’m not telling which. . .) I’m looking good, smelling like warm vanilla spice and looking good enough to eat. I get on the bus to his house and I get a call stating “I’m sorry babe, I have to go to a rehearsal, so we have to re-schedule.” I’m like muthafucker, no you didn’t just call me 15 minutes before we were to meet and get our lunch on! See this is what I mean - TRIF-A-LING!

Okay, okay, before you lambaste me for being upset at a guy who takes his work very seriously, I have to say that months of this type of behavior gets old and I feel silly thinking that an old dog can change his spots (yes I just fused two proverbs together…), but I am an optimist, so I trek on and cross him off my list, take my cute self out on the town.

So what’s a girl to do, my batting average isn’t too good, but I need to show somebody the undies set I bought, so what do I do… yes I talk myself into attempting a booty call. How did I rationalize this thought: Well I’m twentysomething and everyone needs that one story that you can pass down to your grandchild to let them know that granny was cool once (not that this is the one, but…) and I’m usually Miss Straight and Narrow, so why not live a little!?! So who to call for my little foray into the darkside… why not EX #3. We were supposed to meet for lunch, so why not dessert instead.

Okay I call and set it all up, the good thing is I didn’t really have to say anything but “I want to see you” and he got the message. I decide to go there on my way to work - you know have a quickie on a time limit ’cause I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be late on account of some lovin’. So I’m sitting in a cab trying to rationalize my actions to myself: “You’re a grown -ass woman, you can do anything you want to do. Your responsible, fun-loving, kind and on top of that you love your mama [ugh, mama is not the person to be thinking about right now!!!]” You know him, you even like him - alot, so just get it over with before you chicken out.”

Okay, I get there, swallow my fears and go in the house. He’s waiting for me on the couch and he tells me to sit. So I’m thinking to myself “BC’s usually don’t start this way, but who knows.” He starts talking to me, pouring out his heart, apologizing for his actions of the past and I’m really thinking “BC’s don’t usually go this way - oh well.” He then says “I love you.” Okay - wait - a - minute!! This was supposed to be a booty call and that only, not I pour out my heart and be good, sweet and reformed, oy! What do I do? I guess like any woman would - melt.

So all my bravery was for naught as it never happened. What did. . . the fact that I’m now stuck on 749,995.