Never Make the Same Mistake Twice by Nene Leakes & Denene Millner

Author:Nene Leakes & Denene Millner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2009-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

BAD BOYS WILL GET YOU NOWHERE, ESPECIALLY IF THEY MAKE YOU SLEEP ON MR. RIGHT

On our first date, Gregg showed up to my town house with flowers and chocolates in the backseat of the car, dressed like an OG—had on gator shoes, slacks with the big cuffs and the wide legs, and a front license tag that read, “Strictly Business.” When we left for our date, he opened the car door for me and stood outside of it like he was a chauffeur.

It was so wrong on so many levels for me, at least at that time, because it seemed like he was trying way too hard and using win-her-over tactics my uncle might have used on my aunt when they started dating in the backwoods of Georgia, way back in the 1940s. I mean, I was in my late twenties, independent and fly, and here was this older guy showing up for the first date looking and acting like he’d gotten his dating cues from a dusty turn-of-the-century “courting” manual. The OG thing was a chemistry killer for me, for sure—and if I didn’t have chemistry with the man standing in front of me, it didn’t matter how cute he was or what gifts he brought me or what he was whispering in my ear. If I wasn’t feeling him, he wasn’t going to be “feeling” me—period.

I’m picky like that.

But Gregg? He was persistent, not easily cowed, from the giddyup. I met him through a mutual friend at the Martini House over in Buckhead, a cute little spot where ballers went to drink martinis and smoke cigars. I’d just gotten off work, and my girls, who were there having cocktails, called me to join them. I didn’t even bother dressing up; I hadn’t intended on staying long. I didn’t even have a drink, just went there to say hello right quick and then get on home to my baby boy.

But, as fate would have it, I spotted my friend Willie across the way and I sashayed over to his table to say hello and kick it with him for a few minutes before I headed for the door. Gregg was sitting with him; I was cordial, of course, a lady. And before I excused myself from our brief conversation, I tossed Gregg a compliment: “Oh, those are some nice shoes.”

Of course, I went on about my business, giggling with my girls and being Nene. I must have made quite an impression, because before I knew it, Willie was standing next to me, talking about “My friend wants your number.”

“Oh, no,” I insisted. “I just like his shoes. Really, I’m not interested.”

“Go ahead and give the man your number, baby, it’s no big deal—let him take you out. He’s a good guy,” Willie insisted.

Now, I kept some fake numbers stored away in my mind for occasions just like these, when men I wasn’t interested in couldn’t and wouldn’t take no for an answer. But for some crazy reason that I can’t recall right now, I gave the man my real phone number.

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