She Doesn’t Kiss Rappers

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April 19, 2011 by Manny Wordsmith

Let’s go back…2007

My friends and I traveled to London for a weekend and met up with some Flight attendants in a basement bar.

After-work discussions and loud laughing awoke me from a deep stare. I felt a bit rude, but I played it off like it was meant to be done….

Sara stared back, grinning slightly, and wondered if I had more to offer than just a seductively blank stare. I had words, lathered in some sort of lost charm, but I never expect women to giggle at my nostalgic tastes. Most women want what’s current and they want it right away. The Microwave Age the social scientists call it.

My tone and silliness was more early 90s than anything. More Charles and Charge than Fresh Prince, but I was working on it. Sara was definitely Living Single. Young, Hispanic, the world in her palms. When she spoke she said things with definition and poise, but was just as amiable as any girl. When she told me she was from NYC the song “Bonita Applebum” began to gently play in the back on my mind. When she mentioned her love for hip-hop and Kung-Fu movies the song got louder and louder.

Bonita Bonita Bonita

I pictured us dancing in throwback videos. Sara wearing a one-piece low-cut spandex suit, while I wore hammer pants with an 8Ball jacket. Her curly brown hair was in a side pony-tail and mine was in a high top fade. I was in golden age hip-hop heaven! We reminisced like Pete Rock and slow danced to SWV, right before I told her Butter Pecan Rican was my favorite kind of ice cream. Which brings up the Wu-Tang Clan.

“You like Wu-Tang?”

This is the only time I wished I would’ve said no.

Enter the 5 Percenters a.k.a The Nation of Gods and Earth.

It’s a religion out of New York that Wu-tang and a bunch of early 90s hip-hop stars adopted. I never heard of it before this chick. When she starts preaching about how woman is Earth and man is God and about the twelve jewels and supreme alphabets, I was blown away. This crazy rambbling came out of no where. I went from talking to this sexy Puerto-Rican Hip-hop nerd to talking to Zora from House Party 2! I should have expected something. She had about 5 Jack and Cokes. Not easy for a girl who’s 5 foot 1 and 95 lbs.

When we climbed on to the tube to head to this rock bar in Camden London, I thought maybe the change in venue and music would turn things right side up. I would have gone anywhere to stop the love child of Lauryn Hill and Minister Farrakahn from talking. But when we arrived things didn’t actually change much. Instead of talking about hip-hop, Sara just permanently melded into the rock music. There was hardly anyone there but she insisted her and I were in a mosh pit. I was done. I thought the world had finally sent me this gift and it was spoiled by the red-headed stepchild of Islam and Tennessee’s favorite whiskey.

As the already dead crowd died some more, we began to move out. I stopped to get my jacket while the others went up to street level to wait for me. The cute Londoner at the coat check, with a face full of piercings, ensured me that it wouldn’t take much longer. I smiled back and was waiting patiently before I was approached by this sexy little blond chick.

“Ello my name is Carrie, what’s your name?”

Her drunken stammering and glazed eyes peered into my soul.

“Manny, nice to meet…”

There are no more words left because she kissed me. I had literally known the chick for 5 seconds before she shellacked the Newcastle beer right off my tongue! It was delightful and she was a wreck. It was like God was making up for the 2 hours of terror he put me through. Carrie’s friend quickly scooped her up and escorted her back upstairs. I turn back around and the coat check girl is laughing her ass off. I feel like I’m on top of the world. I walk up stairs to share the news and what do I see? Carrie, in the arms of my friend Mike, pointing and screaming,

“That rapper tried to kiss me!”

I couldn’t believe she said that! She mouth raped me!! But no, because I’m young, American and Black, I must be a rapper. And for that, what did I get? Fear. Thanks 50 cent and thank you Wu-tang Clan. Your raw and intense lyrics make ethnic girls crazy and white girls scared…

lol Fin

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