Mark and I burst into laughing fits. Mark even spit out his drink. He took a few seconds to gather himself. “How in the hell does her scent change? What do you mean…her vaginal odor?” Mark asked.
“No! It’s her hair and overall body odor, bro! I don’t know what to do. I’m telling you, one of these fresh graduate collegiate dames was about to be victimized over the weekend,” Eric said damn near in tears. I didn’t have anything to offer; marriage was way off my radar. I didn’t want anything to do with it.
“Okay! Is this Usher’s confession time?” Mark asked making it obvious he had a bomb to drop. Eric and I just looked at dude waiting for his announcement.
“I’m in love, ya’ll!” Mark divulged with reluctant grandeur fueled by shame.
“Okay, motherfucker!” Eric said sounding corny as hell, per usual.
“With who, man?” I asked. I couldn’t take the suspense.
“Okay, before I disclose this sensitive information let’s establish a few rules…” Mark attempted.
“Man, if you don’t get on with the bullshit!” I threatened. I couldn’t take this 90210 moment. That’s one thing about this click. They were ivy-leaguers and while that had benefits to our relationship, it came along with characteristics I could do without and they are melodrama and cornball-ism. I mean, I’m a street dude. I can articulate my speech to express my thoughts unlike like your average hood cat and that’s all a part of my hustler’s mentality, but at times like this our differences surfaced and so did my lack of patience.
“Okay! Okay! She’s lily white! There, I said it!” Mark pushed out in total embarrassment. He stilled in his seat with his head hung south awaiting the backlash.
“WHAT!?” Eric literally screamed in high pitch.
“I know, man…I know! It just happened…and now I can’t get the snowflake out of my head. I feel so…un-ethnic!” he whispered.
“What the hell is un-ethnic? Are you submitting that term to Merriam-Webster?” Eric asked sarcastically. “I thought you had rules, my brother. No cream in your coffee! I can’t believe you, Mr. ‘I’m going to assemble a walk out the minute the university announces the installation of another Caucasian dean of the school of business’!” Eric jeered. Him being with a Caucasian woman wasn’t news, but we enjoyed teasing Mark. All I could do was laugh my ass off. We were a disturbance in the restaurant at this point.
“Damn you, Azmir!” Mark cried.
“What?” I said barely fighting through my laughter.
“I would expect you to say something—call me a sellout or revoke my NAACP card, but don’t laugh in my damn face, man!” he hissed appearing serious as hell.
“My bad, man. It’s just that I could see that it’s really got you fucked up in the head. I mean, you shouldn’t take it so seriously; it’s just a relationship. You may feel differently next month. Don’t sweat it, my dude,” I said before taking another swig of my drink.
“Wow. That’s really profound coming from “the player” from the hood!” Mark mocked, still riding me.
“What? Ya’ll niggas ain’t getting all oink on me are you? C’mon, it ain’t that serious! If you bangin’ the broad have fun! You’re not deciding on brain surgery or cancer treatment; her skin color doesn’t matter. It’s a broad!!” I accentuated the word.