Twas teabag New Year’s Eve, makin’ the balls drop. Beverages were being consumed. Laughs and cackles were in the air. All was right with the world. Everybody I was with was winning in the game and it seemed as if no wrong could be done. Being the observant fellow that I am, I noticed a lot of the conversations going on around me as I sat on a couch, imbibed potent punch, and drunkenly texted and tweeted from my blackberry. One of my boys, let’s call him L, was engaging in chattington with a pretty girl named Tammy. They did introductions at the beginning of the night and periodically kept coming back to talk to each other throughout. As she continuously smiled, giggled, and gave him the “I keep touching you when I laugh because I’m feeling you” signal, the likelihood of him starting the New Year horizontally with a beautiful woman grew to near 85%.
I noticed another girl, we’ll call her Alberta Haynesworth, throwing signs that she liked L even though her friend was clearly digging him. He’d make a joke and Berta could be heard laughing from a few feet away like she was part of their conversation. The damsel in disgust thirstily gave him her number early in the night, and kept finding reasons to say his name and drag him into discussions in which he had no interest in participating. If I was so appalled, then I know my friend had to be all the more annoyed. Nonetheless, L pressed on in his quest to seal the deal.
By the time the night officially wrapped up, it was about 5am. My boy and the pretty possibility were sitting close to each other on the couch. Another friend, Shawn, offered them the chance to sleep in one of the empty rooms in the house because he saw the opportunity that had developed between the 2 of them. Sometimes that’s just the stand-up thing to do.
It was at this moment that the world came crashing down and one of the most egregious crimes in existence occurred. The annoying chick that clearly wasn’t going to win grew to about 6’3 and 290 pounds. She got down in the 3-point stance and it was as if the invitation for her friend and L to stay there was the equivalent of Shawn being a quarterback that just yelled hike:
Alberta Haynesworth: Girl, you know we gotta go. Let me get our coats.
Tammy: I think I’ma stay. Shawn said we could crash here.
Alberta: Nah girl, let’s be out. We can take a cab.
Quarterback Shawn: It’s okay for y’all to stay. No biggie. Plenty of space to crash.
Alberta: Nah, it’s okay. We can go. Here’s your coat Tammy. Shawn, thanks for having us over. **Ushers Tammy to the door.**
I wanted to snatch her wig. Like, I seriously wanted to pull it off her head, throw it out the window, and watch it descend into street slush and dog droppings. L, Shawn, and I all looked at each other in disbelief as we tried to figure out if we should call the police. I had Alberta in my blackberry messenger contact list from a conversation we had about phones earlier in the night. I deleted her right there on the spot.
I have no country patience for c*ckblocking. It is one of the most villainous, lame, and deflating things that a person can do. The selfishness of it makes me nauseous. It had been a long time since I’d seen such a blatant display of poor sportsmanship by a salty woman because her hot friend basically won the guy she wanted. It was that “If I can’t f*ck you, then I’m f*cking up your night” c*ckblock. Sometimes you lose and have to just go home alone, think about the game, and prepare for your next outing. What’s so difficult to understand about this? Why are you bitterly blocking at damn near 30? If your friend is lucid, which she was, let her stay and play. You’re going to have to live vicariously through your girl sometimes. If you can’t handle it, get a couple of less attractive friends. I’m getting sick thinking about this. I can’t.
For the fellas, please share your stories of c*ckblocking so that the women committing this atrocity understand how it affects you. Also, if you have overcome a c*ckblock and still went home with a win, let us know. For the ladies, have you ever been part of a c*ckblock? I know that sounds dirty. At what point does being a good friend stopping someone from making a bad decision turn into “Listen b*tch. I’m going home with him”? Lastly, if you were the pretty girl in this story or L, what would you do?
Finally Calling Crimestoppers,