Qn. Everlena Brown de Apparel Ism

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FAKE-T-L #2: How Joka?s hunger games meant mocking J

Posted by Qn. Everlena Brown on February 28, 2014 at 12:40 AM


[2/28/14] Atlanta- The next installment of my “Identity Theft” series comes from my most memorable dating experience in Atlanta. It was so trifling I had to tell my father. He, like most who knew the story found it very humorous. Business is usually slow during the 4th quarter, so 2 years ago I started waiting tables at the infamous Throbacks Sports Bar & Grill in College Park.


One night after my shift I got a text from J saying “Hey, what you doing”. So I responded “Hey”. J had been texting me 6 months straight “good morning”. This was the first time he initiated an actual conversation. He invited me to the movies, so I asked him to call me if he really wanted an answer. I hate being courted by text. Still pining over Bu, I was happy to get a break from my heart. Well, something inside told me this was not a good idea. But I proceeded to make plans with J. I had not seen J in 2 years, so I reminded him of our first encounter at The Underground. He was darkskin and 5’11. I thought to myself “5’11?”, I remember him being closer to my height. But I agreed to give him my address the next day on the way to pick me up.


I immediately phoned my friend after the call to get advice. I told her about the discrepancy. She responded jokingly “I need you to know who you making a date with”. I needed a real rebound from Bu, so I wasn’t throwing the towel in yet. Instead, I got on my laptop and googled the signature on J’s text: Mack Tite Entertainment. A myspace page came up with the most doggish mandigo I had ever seen. I was pissed! How could this happen? Talking to myself “I remember J being cute….this must be a mistake?”. Racking my brain I deducted his signature previously said “Jski” now it says “Mack Tite Ent”. So then I googled “Jski Atlanta”. The search results brought me to a facebook page for a record label. The facebook page lead me to a myspace page with a photo of the J I had remembered. There he was in all his mocha magnificence, but no contact. I went back to the facebook page and dialed the number listed. I could feel my lips moisten as he answered the phone “Hey Queen”. He remembered me! And he reminded me of how we met. And he was the right height. I said to him “You wanna hear something funny?” He agreed and I told him “We got a date tomorrow night”. All ears, I told the real J how I thought he had been texting me “good morning” for the last 6 months and finally asked me out. J would always text my google voice and my mobile regarding his shows. Somehow I had saved his name under the wrong number after re-entering contacts.


I was determined to get over Bu. All I needed was another meaningful relationship. I always had a crush on the real J, so I was flattered he was jealous of mocking J. We agreed to meet the next day. And I sent mocking J one hell of an angry text that night.


Three days after our first date, the real J says we need to talk. He decided to unpause with his girlfriend. At that moment J turned the best sex I ever had from a fairy tale to a booty call. My vagina was damaged. She took it harder than me. Water dripped from every opening in my body. I felt so betrayed I threaten the real J. He apologized for a whole week. But I still forbid him to set foot at Throbacks. Best wings in town, Throbacks was also known for the hottest open mic showcase presented by Street Talk Promotions. An artist, the real J naturally wanted to compete the following week. The prize? Opening up for 2chainz at Club Libra. He tried to smooth over his disobedience with tequila shots. No one but us knew why his track really skipped that night. He did not win the prize. And we have not spoken since.



Categories: Commentary, Atlanta

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