Call It Dreamin' 4 minute read

Friday Night



 “So I said, do I look like Walmart?  And that fool just looked at me without saying nothing.  So, I repeated myself.  Do I look like fucking Walmart?   Cuz your ass acts like you put me on layaway.  We hooked up three months ago.  I haven’t seen you since then because, according to you, you’ve been soooo busy — but now you think that you can just pick me up.  Did you think that you could put a down-payment on me, neglect me, and then pick me up when you were ready?”  Rashonda said, her hands dramatically orchestrating her words.

The rest of us knew not to interrupt Rashonda when she was on a roll, particularly when she was sipping on Courvoisier.  Not that we wanted too.  Rashonda and stories of her love life were always the highlight of Friday girls’ night.

Rashonda, dressed in her standard look—curvy-girl sexy – took a sip of her drink, “So then, he starts in again on how busy he’s been.  Now ya’ll know my philosophy is that if Bill Clinton, who was the freaking President of the most powerful country in the world had time for Hillary, Monica, and Lord knows who else, my VP at Verizon could certainly have made some time for me.”

Laura interjected, “Girl, you are so crazy.  What did he say?”

“You know I didn’t give him time to say much.  I was wearing my cute red dress—you know the one with the long slit up the front.  I got up, did an “Atlanta Housewives” twirl, looked at him and told him that if he thought that I was sitting on a shelf, like an item on layaway, waiting for him to come pick me up when he was ready, he was wrong.  I told him that this item is in demand and was now out of stock for his sorry ass and walked out of the restaurant.”

All four women cracked up, leaning and falling into each other as they grabbed their sides as if laughing so hard was painful. 

“Girl, I wish I could come up with stuff to say like you do,” Millicent said pushing the longer side of her asymmetrical bob behind her ear.  I just shut down whenever Steve is on my nerves.  We never get anywhere ‘cause I don’t ever really say what I’m angry about and Steve has just learned to wait me out.  He knows that eventually I’ll just start talking to him again.  Straight-up dysfunctional!”

“Hell, at least ya’ll got someone to be dysfunctional with.  I don’t have anyone to diss or to function with.  I haven’t been on a real date in four months.  And don’t one of you bring up  They need to change the name to, cause all they have on there is men who need to be snatched right off that site!” Laura laughed along with everyone else.

The server, a cute red head in her 20’s wearing the standard white shirt and black pants, came over to ask if anyone wanted another drink.

Almost in unison, they all answered “yes” and then fell out laughing again.


“See,” Rashonda said looking at Debra, “you have it good.  You don’t have to deal with this single world craziness.”

Debra, a beautiful woman, the color of Ethiopian coffee rolled her eyes, “girl please, ya’ll have someone who gets on your nerves every now and then.  John is a good man, but he ain’t the easiest person to live with–and that’s an everyday J.O.B..”  If it weren’t for you guys and these Friday nights, I don’t know how I’d get through the week.”

“Same here, these Friday nights are my sanity,” Laura jumped in.

“Let’s toast to that!” Rashonda” offered and lifted up her glass along with everyone else.








My intention is for Black people to love themselves and each other. It sounds somewhat silly, I guess; but oftentimes my people are overwhelmed with negative images, bad news, and stereotyped characters about us. I’d like to flip that script. I’d like to remind us, as often as I can, how incredible we are. Read more


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