I have never been one to be on groupie status, however, I recently added myself to a local rapper’s groupie list. Marcello, a 21 year old up-and-coming rapper got me one night. As my memory serves, it went something like this: on a warm fall night, I went out to a club with Siren. It was a school night for me, but, I agreed to go out anyway because we were asked to guest judge a DJ battle at a local night spot. The night was full of free (TOPSHELF OF COURSE) drinks, meaning it was due to get crazy are some point! The outfit I was rocking got me a lot of unexpected play. I was getting hit on by the host of the battle; we’ll refer to him a Comic. Siren was all over Marcello, and his friend brought me a few cold ones (with a crystal CLEAR ulterior motive). As the night progressed, our inhibitions where in a constant state of retrogress. Somehow, I made it through the evening at the club unscathed.
After the event, Siren and I went to our dopeboy’s house. Trashed, I was waiting outside with another friend for Siren. I proceeded to go in the house to use the ladies. Upon returning to my car, I COMPLETELY busted my ass and twisted my ankle (my shoes weren’t hurt in the process though, yay)! We returned to Siren’s house and lo and behold, Marcello and company knocked on the door. In this moment, the black lighting of the club is gone and the soft lighting of the house allows for better vision. In a house full of dudes, we are all coolin/puffin. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Marcello eyeing me as he moves close to me. I suppose this is when he starts scoping me out. Marcello starts asking the usual “getting to know you” questions and we begin a rapport between us. In the midst of all this, Siren and I decide to “continue to get fucked up.” This chaos includes a twerking contest followed by the show –and-tell of my and Siren’s (intimately placed) piercings!! The madness causes the friend of Marcello to act out, leading to his forced departure a little while later.
At the very end of the night, the last ones standing are: myself and Siren, the other third friend mentioned above, and Marcello. Before I lay it down for the night, I notice my ankle is KILLING me! I take a look at it, and it is at least TWICE the size it should be (I happened to step too confidently on uneven pavement in a driveway and fell next to my parked car earlier in the evening). At that moment is when I realize, I need to retreat to the bedroom and chill the fuck out. Marcello asks if he can come lay with me, and I agree to let him. While we were in the room, we continue out “getting to know you” surface conversation. It is in this conversation that I find out he is a rapper and an aspiring musical engineering student. We chat for a bit more and I tell him I have to go to sleep because I do have class in a matter of a couple of hours. He was completely respectful. I mumbled that my ankle hurt and he even asked if I wanted him to rub it (the answer was no). My phone was dead and he kept asking me to reassure him that I would call him in the future.
SN: Being the weirdo that I am, I frequently laugh and talk in my sleep, especially when I am obliterated—this is one of the MAIN reasons I do not participate in sleepovers, especially with strangers!
At approximately 6:00 A.M. with a class at 10:00, I am not home and I look and feel like death. I finally end up passing out…IN HIS NOOK!!!!!!!!! (ummmmm GROSS) But then, after who knows how long, I laughed in my sleep, ugh! So…it woke him up and he looked at me and said, “Humph, why did you do that?”…..I was MORTIFIED!!!!!!!!! Anyways, we made it through the rest of the morning and I woke up around 8:30. I had to leave in no longer than 10 minutes because of rush hour traffic. So when he tried me again by softly kissing the back of my neck and caressing my inner thigh, I turned to him and said, “You have exactly 7 minutes, impress me.” I still cannot recall if this was to my surprise of not, but Marcello literally POUNDED my shit; when I say “pounded,” I mean, there was absolutely NO finesse!! It was straight up and down, not even and “in and out” kind of motion (ummm…excuse me sexy, but what part of the game is that shit?). IT HURT. He finished, I put on my clothes and dipset. My walk-of-shame consisted of: a borrowed pair of too small of “swim team” shorts that Siren wore in high school, a tank top, and my black patent leather ankle bootie wedge shoes…I couldn’t put pressure on my left ankle so I had to hobble and wobble to my car….NOT my finest moment, but it was absolutely just as hilarious as it was shameful! Later that day, I texted him to give him my digits as promised; he replied; “ok Boop” <—-(Portsmouth slang?) and, I have not heard from him since. Siren hit him up cop some trees and he stood us up on that! In retrospect, I realize I added myself to his groupie list and, I definitely did NOT mean to do THAT! Sometimes, I hear is wack ass songs on the radio and I wonder to myself what his thoughts are of that night. Ugh, I made myself a groupie for some worthless wood and you know what, that’s EXACTLY what I get!! New Rule: no young twenty-somethings and no performers either!
A Blakward Perspective... 