Date #4 – Malcolm, Retail Associate at Best Buy

How We Met

A friend of mine decided that she was going to play cupid and figured that her brother-in-law, Malcolm and I would be great together. Malcolm is 33, works at Best Buy, lives with a roommate, has 3 kids, and DOES NOT believe in God. That last part was enough to tell me that this was not going to work but I still let Mel give him my number because I needed to fill these next 30 days with dates.

I had already known what Malcolm looked like from seeing his pictures in one of Mel’s photo albums. He was a good looking guy. Fair complexion with a hint of red tones, light brown tapered fade, small freckles across the bridge of his nose, and one of the biggest and brightest smiles I have seen.

Despite Malcolm already having several strikes against him, 1- 3 kids (I don’t date men who have more than 2, it’s just a preference) and 2- lives with a roommate (I'd rather a man have his own place, especially a man in his 30's), and 3- Not believing in God (my grandmother always said that if a man and a woman are not equally yoked, i.e., on the same page spiritually, then the relationship will never work), I decided to think optimistically and give it a go.

Malcolm text me last night as I was out with date #3. I only text him back when Doug was in the restroom or at the bar ordering another drinks (I didn’t want to be rude and totally ignore the guy or disrespect Doug by texting someone else while he’s sitting there). I told Malcolm that I was out with a friend and that I would call him when I got in if it wasn’t too late.

By the time my date with Doug had ended, Malcolm had text me four times. Now, I KNOW that I said I would text him when I got home right? So why would this fool continue to text me? By the time I got home last night, I was beat and didn’t want to call him because I figured it was too late anyway. But to hell with what I think because my phone rings at 2:25 a.m. Really???

Surely I was half way through my first REM cycle of sleep, but I still answered the phone, “Hello?”

“Heeeeeey Candy”, came a lively, bubbling over with excitement voice.

I didn’t look at the name before picking up. Through squinted eyes, I attempt to look at my phone’s screen to see who in the hell this was and why the fuck was he so damn happy at 2 in the morning. 

Malcolm.

This dude was already on my last nerve and I hadn’t even met him yet.

“Malcolm?”, I whisper through the phone, “What in the…”

♫“Candy girl… You are my world. Ya look so sweet. You’re a special treat…”♫ he sings… hoooorribly into the phone.

“MALCOLM?” I yell. I’m totally pissed now. Not only does he call at 2 am, like we’re cool like that, but he calls me even though I said I would call him, and isn’t even remotely sorry that he woke me and how does he show that? By singing… LOUDLY in my ear!

At this point, I refuse to talk, so I just hang up! My phone rings several more times for the next 15 minutes, so I turn it completely off.

Goodnight Malcolm!

The Date

I receive a text from Malcolm around 10:15 am this morning apologizing for last night. I accept his apology and he asks if I was going anywhere to watch the game. I tell him no, that I didn’t have any plans to watch the game. He says that he doesn't as well and asks can we meet today. Since I had no plans and I needed date 4, this was perfect. We agree to meet at 5 p.m. at Pappadeaux’s Seafood Kitchen.

By the time I drop my daughter off at her friend’s house and head to Pappadeaux’s, I have about twelve minutes to get there. I make it there at exactly 5 o’clock and text him letting him know that I had arrived. Another five minutes would pass before he text me back asking where was I. I decided to call him instead of texting him back because things can get confusing and frustrating with a bunch of texts sometimes. I dial his number but he doesn’t pick up so I leave a message. Still nothing. I call again… nothing. Oooooooookay!!! Here we go with the dumb shit! He texts me again saying “Where you at?”

‘Fuck it’ I say to myself. Clearly he doesn’t know how to communicate effectively, so I text back, “I’m about to walk inside, where are you?” Another six minutes before he responds “At the bar”.

When I walk in, there are four men sitting alone at the bar. Two of them I knew were not him, but the other two, I wasn’t so sure about. Remember, I had only seen him in pictures. I didn’t want to walk up to the wrong guy and have him look at me like I was crazy and wondering who the hell I was. He knew what I was going to be wearing but I didn’t know what he would have on. I text him that I was at the door. I watched the two guys to see which would pick up their phone after I sent the text. One reached for the phone, looked at it and put it down but the other didn’t. The one who reached for the phone continued on with his conversation with the female bartender, even after looking at the text. I literally stood there for another 10 minutes and by this time I was fuming.

I’m sure many of you are saying to yourself, “Why didn’t you just walk up to him and sit down if you knew that was him?” I didn't do that because it’s the principle behind the whole thing. If I know that I’m meeting someone and I know that they are looking for me, I’m going to make sure that I’m paying attention to whomever is walking through the door because I don’t want them feeling awkward, just as I felt when he never even acknowledged that I was standing there.

My phone rings, “Hello?”

“It’s Malcolm, “Where you at?”

I look over and he’s starring right in my face. So I say, “You see me don’t you?”

“Yeah, c’mon. You already late!” he says and hangs up.

Whaaaaaaaaat the fuuuuuuuuuuuuck??? Am I imposing on your time with the bartender or something? Good grief!!! Alright! I can already see where this is going.

I walk over, he looks me up and down, and pulls out his phone and starts texting. I can’t do nothing but shake my head. Right now, I want to grab my purse and just turn right back around and leave. Instead, I sit in the stool next to him.

“Yeah, grab a seat” he says while chewing on a straw and leaning to the side in the stool.

I roll my eyes in disgust as I turn my head to properly place my purse on the back of my stool. As I’m doing that, he calls the bartender back over, 

So uhhhh, like I was sayin, my daughter has long beautiful hair like yours.” he smiles up at her as he twists a strand of her hair in between his fingers. Is this negro flirting with this woman in my face??? He puts his phone up and shows her a picture of his daughter.

“Oh, she’s adorable. You need to tell her mother to wrap her hair if she’s going to wear it down like that.” She says to him. “Can I get you something sweetie?” she asks me.

“Uhhh, I’ll take a water with lemon please.” I say. Surprised she even noticed I was there.

“So what’s up Caaaaaaaaaandy?” he sings out. I shake my head indicating nothing at all.

The bartender returns with my drink and I thank her. As I’m looking around, the guy across the bar is making eye contact with me… and he’s cute. I smile and pretend like I’m drinking my water. 

“So you have a daughter huh?” I say, “How old is she?” I was expecting for him to at least show me the picture like he did with the bartender, but nope! Nothing.

“She’s seven.” He replies.

I turn to look at him, and he’s starring intensely at me. “What?” I ask. “Is there something on my face?” I say as I wipe at my cheeks and nose.

“Naw, naw, you good.” He says. Just as I was about to ask another question, his phone rings. I assume it’s one of his friends. I can hear his responses to whatever questions the friend is asking.

“Yeaaaaaah, man, I’m with one right now!” he laughs into the phone. “Bruh, you know me? You know how I do? I gotta refresh my glass every few minutes.” Is this asswipe talking in code about me to his friend? Breath Candy, breath, I say to myself. I need to leave. 

I can’t do this. The first 10 minutes of being here has put me in the foulest of moods and I don’t think I can take anymore without turning into the Hulk and pushing his damn barstool over!

He finishes his conversation and asks if I was going anywhere to watch the game tonight. He had already asked me that question earlier via text and my answer hadn’t changed, but I still responded with a quick, “No.” “Are you?” I asked, even though he had already said that he wasn’t.

“Oh yeah! I’m about to leave in a few minutes to go watch the game.” He says. “Yup, I’m, about to leave and go get FUUUUUCKED UP and watch this game!” he continues LOUDLY so as to let all of Pappadeauxs hear his rude ass talking!

What? Now all of a sudden you’re going to go watch the game? Alright. Whatever. Just as I was about to tell him that I was leaving, he excuses himself and goes to the restroom. My best friend text me at that moment and asks if I can talk during the date. I wasn’t going to respond to her until he came back and got on the phone with another friend. I overheard him saying, “Man, it sure is dark in here. I don’t normally do places this dark, and if it is this dark, I’m normally faded.”

For those of you who may be in the “dark” about what I’m saying, let me break it down for you. Ya see, Malcolm doesn’t normally date dark skinned girls but, during the exceptions when he does, he’s usually drunk (faded).

That was all I needed to hear. I got up, and grabbed my purse off of the stool. “Oh you leavin’?” he asks as if he really gave a shit.

“Yup” I quickly said. Without even waiting for a goodbye or nice talking to you, I started heading for the door. I hear him tell the bartender that he would be right back and hear him coming up behind me.

“Well let me at least walk you to your car.” He asks. I wanted to tell him that there was no need. That he made it more than clear that he wasn't interested, and quite frankly, neither was I, but fine... Whatever. What is the purpose of walking me to my car if you’re going to walk 10 steps ahead of me the whole time?

We get to the parking lot and he says, “I bet you drive a Benz or a Beamer huh? Yeaaaaaaaah, you look like you got a little change.” As he speaks, my stomach churns from the vomit that’s about to erupt from my throat.

We arrive at my car, “Oh this you right here?” he says pointing to my car. “Alright alright alright… this is a cool lil car.”

I look at him and roll my eyes as I curtly reply, “Well thanks. Didn’t know that my car needed your approval.”

As I turn to unlock my doors, he’s already back up the stairs. Didn’t say goodbye, nice meeting you, drive safely, boo hoo, fuck you, nothing!

Do I really need to say whether or not there will be another date? I think you all get the picture. I should have just gone with my first mind on this one. From the moment he started texting me the previous night, I should have known this was going to be a disaster. Lesson learned: Always go with your first mind.