I’ll drive myself. Because I don’t want to be stuck with you. You’re here at this extra bougie event with these extra bougie people with their ugly bougie noses in the air having the bougiest time of your life while I’m over in a corner trying to avoid bougie hair flips (you know that thing they do) hitting me in my face and corny jokes about sushi, Ben Carson, golfing and other things that only bougie people love (I love sushi and don’t think Ben Carson is the worst of the bunch, but I couldn’t think of anything else . . . probably why I don’t fit in with bougie people). I’m in this corner thinking about all the things in life I could be doing rather than being here at the mercy of your bougie whim and the start of your car’s engine.
I could be painting my nails that pretty peach color I just got.
I could be reading the new book we’ve started for book club.
I could be writing a book or blogging.
I could be thinking of new, creative things to do at work.
I could be in my prayer closet.
I could be making a whole baby (right after I get out of my prayer closet . . . smh)
I could’ve waited on the baby, found my husband, and made my mamma proud by now.
I could’ve changed the whole trajectory of my life!
Now I’m pregnant with no man because of you! I am re-ty to go! Been ready to go. Can’t wait to leave. Soon as you reach for your keys I’m going to jump up out of my seat like “you need me to pull up the car for you? I got you. I don’t mind.”
And if you think I will allow myself to be in this position again, you are so very wrong. When we make dinner plans and you ask me if I want to ride to the restaurant with you, my answer will be heckkkkkkkk naw! I won’t say that of course. I’ll probably say something like “oh no girl I need to make a few stops so I’ll just meet you there.” Friend, I’m not making any stops. I don’t have anywhere in the world to go but to that restaurant to eat sushi with you. I’m just not riding with you, boo.
Seriously though, having a car or access to reliable public transportation is key to my independence. It’s important for me to feel like I can just stand up, walk to my car, and leave any person or situation or get to any person or situation. I don’t even like leaving my car with the valet. What if I need to leave when 15 other people want to leave? Ain’t nobody got time for that. Also, the valets like to give me that look like he/she wants to be tipped. Na, brotha, I can park my own car for the freeskie. Thanks but no thanks.
I guess when my car is being serviced or I’ve flown somewhere and I have to depend on someone else to get me around, I’ll just pray. That’s all I can do. Call on the name of the Lord. Help me, God. Help me keep my slapping hand in my pocket and out of this girl’s face because if she flips her 30 inch weave in my eye one more time, it’s on.