Hoes in Different Area Codes
Yeesh!
Today is May 4th, which means after ten loooooong loooooong months #HwhiteMansummer16 kicks off in 18 days. I didn’t choose the Sally Hemmings lifestyle, but it looks like the sh*t is choosing me.
SIGH
Alas, there is one shining beacon of light!
For the most part, yes, brothas only see me as another one of the boys or a leper, but in an alternate universe called “everywhere outside of PhillyAtlantaNYC” (aka the three places I’ve lived), ya girl is kinda lit. For all of the people wondering how I went four years of college and nine years in NYC untouched, traveling the world has been my saving grace. Let’s cruise through the pages of my bae passport.
That One Time in Morocco, 2011
Marrakech — Tall Berber named Abdul with green eyes and a motoscooter . He runs the poppin’ rug spot in the old medina. Met when I bought a rug off of him. He cooked us traditional food in the tangine and all. Smoked us out off that strong Moroccan hookah. Took us to the new medina for the glitzy, modern side of Marrakech. Blocked him on FB for a while, but I want a new rug so……..
Casablanca — Short Berber investment banker party boy named Hamza. We met at the club. Him and his friends were being Afro-Euro trash popping bottles. We were only in Casa two days, so we didn’t get to hang, but we still talk often…five years later.
That One Time in Cali, 2012
Followed this dope Tumblr page in 2011. Said dope page followed back although we never interact.
Fast forward to Coachella 2012. I’m walking out of the heart of the moshpit after ASAP Rocky’s amazing performance completely disheveled, down to a ripped shirt. #RAGE and I see the owner of the dope Tumblr page. Let’s call him HabeshaBaby. I don’t speak because some girl was falling all over him and I don’t believe in bringing drama to a man’s home. The next day, I’m leaving Cali and finally get cell service. I see I have a message on Tumblr. It was sent the week before by HabeshaBaby who I had just saw the night before. His message said that he was going to Coachella and asked if I wanted to link up while we were both there.
Ain’t that some sh*t?
I message back like “sorry I missed this and my bad for not speaking.” We kept in touch and hung out when I returned to Cali later that year. Since then, we’ve hung out in LA and NY. He’s even DJ’d my trivia night. Minus some residual awkwardness, HabeshaBaby has been a really dope addition to my life.
That One Time in Chicago, 2013
Went to the Chi one summer for Pitchfork Fest with my friend that was from the city. R. Kelly was headlining and tix were only $50, so duh. For the last year, she’d been telling me about her friend Dr.Nigeria and how we’d be the best of friends. Two of her friends pick us up after we land. I’m yelling in the backseat about Toro y Moi and the driver speaks to me for the first time since I got in the car. “We’re getting married.” I look at my friend and she announces that I had finally met Dr. Nigeria.
We were essentially all over each other from that moment until I left for the airport. There was a random blowout argument that our friends somehow slept through. I thought I’d never see him again, so I soaked up that weekend of crazy obsession and hoped it would happen again with some in NYC, but more long-term.
PLOT TWIST: Two years later, he randomly moves to NYC. Passionate, dramatic faux love affair ensues. He goes off the deep end. Another blowout fight. We don’t speak for a few months. He started sending private Snaps as an olive branch, I guess. This story obvi isn’t over.
That One Time in Istanbul, 2013
I had just quit my job and was hellbent of moving to Europe. My first stop was Istanbul.
We met these wild girls at the club that intro’d us to these dudes. We spent the next two nights (errrr mornings) in Istanbul with this bunch drinking Henny and clubbing. Kenny was the hot one that I immediately gravitated to. We were attached at the hip both nights, but I had to keep it cute, because I had a Friendlationship turned Situationship with my best friend happening back home.
Like with all of my vaca baes, we kept in touch years after until he got mad that I wouldn’t get married and move to Lagos with him. Had to block him on WhatsApp.
That One Time in Zanzibar, 2015
It was enough that my flight to Kenya was only $200. Tack on a flight to the island Zanzibar for $300 and I had the best 29th birthday ever. It didn’t help that every guy there was out of their mind gorgeous!
The morning we arrived, I met BabyBarack at this beach restaurant we wound up hanging at the entire trip. Pretty sure we were making out an hour into meeting. Come to find out, he had a girlfriend, but like whatevs, I was leaving in 48 hours and the makeout already happened. Then there was Kane. Met him on the beach. Me and my girls were the only black people on there, so every native was hype to hang with us. Kane and his whole crew were super cool and we wound up partying with them later that night. Thennnnnn there was Gouda. He ran this clothing stall behind the beach and had the best skin I’d ever seen in my life. Bought a jersey off of him and he wound up coming with us to the Full Moon Party on our last night in Zanzibar.
BabyBarack pops up at the party. He’s chilling with us until his girlfriend (who looks like Mama June from the “HoneyBooBoo” show) storms into the party and snatches him away from us. She then goes on to cuss him out and slap him, so the night was over for bae. We tried to save him, but he was #TooFarGone. Gouda was still with us, so there was still a chance for a proper boo vaca sendoff. He wanted to practice his English with me, but I just wanted to makeout. We left the party and walked to the beach. Laid on our backs looking at the stars and making out like crazy people.
I didn’t get Kane’s number, but I chat with one of his boys Hilali sometimes. Hilali even played tour guide when another set of my friends went to Zanzibar a few weeks after me. I still hear from Gouda from time to time, but after eventually saying I don’t know if I’ll ever come back to Zanzi, lil baby got sour. Every time I wear the jersey from his shop though, I think of him and them #skingoals.
That One Time on a Flight in Tanzania, 2015
After an epic three days in Zanzibar, we had to get back to Nairobi to fly home to the US. That required a 20-minute shuttle to mainland Tanzania and a connector flight to Kenya. On the shuttle flight on the world’s tiniest plane, my friends and I got split up seating-wise. A cute guy was stuck between the two rows holding my bestie and I. We obvi talked the entire 20 minutes, but he didn’t seem to mind because the doode was laughing hysterically at everything out of our mouths.
We deplane and he intros himself. We’ll call him Mr. Nigeria. Come to find out he was also getting cussed out by his girlfriend at the Full Moon Party. He lived in Lagos, which was where I planned to have my 30th birthday trip, so I was chatting him up as we all walked through the airport. We somehow lose him and I’m skressin’. Alas, 30 minutes later, he pops up on the departure floor. The Dar Es Salaam airport contains you in a glass box with it’s own security line based on your gate. He was literally sitting a foot away from us with just a thin sheet of glass separating us. I got bold, said eff with, went through the security process for his gate, and walked up to him. We exchanged info and talked until his flight was called.
A few weeks later, we started talking everyday. Him and the girlfriend eventually broke up. We continued to talk daily. Six months from the day we met, he landed in NYC. We hung out all week having the best time ever. We had a slight falling out a month after he went home. He got married last week. Burrrrrrrrn. He told me as he was breaking up with the last girl that he wanted to be married by 2016. He was obvi serious. We’re still cool. Hopefully, the wife lets us hang once I get to Lagos.
That One Time in Martinique, 2016
The hashtag for my 30th birthday trip was #Thotty30 and that was the first time I ever manifested something in my life. I hate tourist traps, as any of my travel blog readers know, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to go on this all day cruise. My girls and I all pile on, the only black faces in sight, save for the catamaran staff. They were OBVI hype to see us since black Americans don’t come to Martinique. Eight hours of sun and an aux cord takeover (which mortified the French tourists on our boat) later, we made friends with all of the guys. We invited them back to our bungalow that night for a house party. As we docked, another boat met us and my eyes landed on this gem of a guy we’ll call Twinsie. My homegirl drunkingly marched over to him and extended the houseparty invite his way.
They all come through with gallons upon gallons of rum punch. We’re playing Martiniquian trap music, rolling up, dancing, laughing. It was legit the best. Eventually, Twinsie and I walk down to the pool. A couple shotguns and a swim later, hoeness ensues and my dress needed a trip to the dry cleaner. #CelebritiesAreJustLikeUs #AllOnMyGown #IHearYouBey
I plan on heading back to Martinique for NYE because it’s like the best place on earth. Twinsie and I follow each other on social media, so who knows, you may catch him on my Snap.
I’m such an idiot.
After compiling this list, I realized a running theme between every single one of these guys. They’re all African! How could I be so stupid? I could’ve been on my Bella Naija a long time ago! I should prob hit up some raucous Ghanian or Nigerian party before that May 22 deadline!!!! ::bites nails::
