I hate dating in Atlanta.

Most men don’t make it past the “telephone stage”. I give them my number, we talk and based off their conversation, I block them.

Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m too picky.

Or maybe, …nvm.

The point is, I want you to meet Claude Thomas.

Claude asked for my number one day. He seemed nice enough.

Claude called. Immediately. And texted. And Facetimed, a lot.

Side note, there is FaceTime etiquette.

Ask before Facetiming someone new.

As much as Claude spoke to my voicemail, you would think that he would’ve gotten the point, but he didn’t.

Don’t get me wrong, Claude is handsome- if lightskin guys are your thing. (Tall, dark and handsome is more my taste)

Claude is an attorney. (GA bar website says otherwise)

Claude drives an expensive Jaguar. (He sent me more pictures of his car than himself)

The most important thing I learned about Claude is Claude doesn’t like brunch.

Who the fuck doesn’t like brunch? I should have blocked him.

But I tried to lighten the mood instead. I asked if he wanted to do breakfast.

Surely, this man eats breakfast. As big as he is, he should know it is the most important meal of the day.

This is where it gets creepy. Claude insisted that I come to his house so he can cook.


Did he just invite me to his house? On a first date?

So, the answer to that was no.

Then Claude hit me with the “This is why I date white women, black women always have their hand out.”

I was classy. I wished him well. Then posted screenshots of our conversation on Facebook in my favorite FB group.

To be honest, Claude lost me when he told me he was a lawyer for the Department of Labor and he worked third shift.

I’ve never met a third shift lawyer before.

But I digress.

Someone in the group responds that attorney Claude is a correctional officer that works with her aunt.

Lol, third shift.

She also posted this:

And this:

And this:

I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

Sis, you have been warned.

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