His 1st question: "What do you do?"

It’s hard being single sometimes, then you hit your mid-thirties.

Here’s an example:

A friend of mine I see seldom shows up at my door to use my computer cause he’s met some “fine-ass bitch”. Instead of a phone number, she gave him her website address.

I pull up the URL and basically its the site of a professional escort. A hooker. I explain this to him noting the donate button and the comment section used for placing orders. His response: “Shit! I doan know. I gotta talk to her about this shit, man!”

He leaves and I guess emails her. A week later, I see him and ask about the chick. “Oh, her? That’s my girlfriend,man.”

WTF! She is? “She better be. I spent two hundred on her!” He’s gettin’ his. Fuck it. I walk off.

I saw him another week later and asked how it was going. “She aw’ight, but she doan … you know … go downtown.” He motioned like his hand was on her bobbing crown – the U.N. approved gesture to symbolize oral sex – while rolling his head back in imaginary ecstasy.

I told him he should pay it forward. “I gotta pay it forward. That’s fiddy dollahs. Can you spot me?“

I walked off. “Why you hatin’ on mah love, man?!” I kept walking.

Another week later, he comes up to me. “Nigga! That hoe ain’t shit! I think that skank bitch cheatin’ on me!” I tell my seven-year-old cousin she has to go inside for a minute and asked him how he figured it out.

“I went to her house last night and the guy ahead of me in line said she was with somebody.”

You sure?

“The two muthafuckas in front of him confirmed it!”

Sick of this shit, I went to hear her side of things. Get it from the horse’s mouth.

Now I’m out $50.

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