God Was Belt to Ass That Entire Trip A Cautionary Tale

One time I got flown out by a guy who “played” a professional sport and I’m saying professional very loosely. I’m not talking “last few minutes of the game” loose. I’m talking his ass was glued to the bench so hard, I don’t even think he had a uniform. He was basically a team prop. A mascot in Nikes.

Now, I know you’re reading this like, “Girl, you knew that before getting on the flight,” and you’re absolutely right. I did. But silly me thought that someone who sees less playing time than the team water bottle would at least have a little decency and humility.

Wrong. So wrong.

He did 5 things in the span of 48 hours that had me calling on the Lord and wishing I had never left New York.

His Bummy Cousin Picked Me Up

This man had me fly out and didn’t even mention that his grown, freeloading cousin  who I say with my full chest might’ve been a little slow  was living with him. That same cousin took an hour to find me at the airport. Delta, y’all. One of the largest airlines in the world. He walked around like he was looking for a missing person, not a girl with a bright pink carry on and lashes long enough to signal ground control.
I had to text this man my gate, terminal, physical description, shoe size, and birth chart before he located me. I’m out there in some heels I had no business wearing, wheeling my little carry-on around like a contestant on The Amazing Race. And let’s be honest, he pulled up looking like he just woke up from a nap on his mama’s couch. Not even a, “Hey, how was your flight?” just a, “You ready?” Sir… ready for what? Ready to mentally disassociate for the next 48 hours?

His Apartment Was Still in Moving Day Mode

I walked into what felt like a Home Depot storage aisle. Boxes everywhere. His whole place still smelled like cardboard and male confusion. Naturally, I snooped because what’s privacy when you’re playing house for 48 hours? Went through the cousin’s room too. Found condom wrappers and not much else. Ghetto.
The fridge had almond milk, some deli meat, and vibes. Not even a Brita filter. My throat was dry and my standards were lower. I was opening cabinets like I was on House Hunters, praying to find at least a fork or two. And don’t get me started on the bathroom that man had one towel, one half used body wash, and vibes. I felt like I was squatting.

Weird Vibes, Awkward Energy & Unholy Bedroom Behavior

When he finally came home around midnight, I was sleepy but excited… until I saw what the girls meant. The weird was weirding. His Instagram was full of women who didn’t follow him back which, ironically, was once me. But I thought, “He’s being nice. Let me be nice.” Mistake #1.
He talked like a man who just learned how to hold a conversation, and danced like someone who studied TikTok choreography from 2019. The whole time I was sipping Azul like it was holy water, trying to ignore the secondhand embarrassment. Then he tried to turn sexy and somehow got even more awkward. I swear I had to ask God to step in. When I say I was laying there like a mannequin trying not to cackle  I wanted to scream, “Not this man trying to give sensual energy with JV team stamina.”

The Restaurant Date That Turned Into a Public Therapy Session

The next day, me, him, and his freeloading cousin go out to eat. Thank God the cousin came. I didn’t want to be alone with him again. We get to the restaurant, and this man sits side by side with me like we’re in a Cracker Barrel commercial. Laying his head on me. Whispering corny jokes. Doing the most.
He kept trying to feed me bites of his food like we were in some low budget rom com. Meanwhile, I’m trying to keep my lashes on and my attitude in check. I had to text my girls from under the table like, “Y’all, this is not my portion.” At one point, the waitress even gave me a sympathetic look like, “Girl… blink twice if you need help.” And honestly, I should’ve left with her. She had good energy and didn’t dance offbeat to Drake.

His Teammate Was FINE  But We Stayed at His House All Day Like It Was a Sleepover

After the restaurant, he says we’re making a quick stop at his teammate’s house before bowling. That “quick stop”? Turned into an all day hangout turned nap session on someone else’s couch. And let me just say this his teammate was fine. I was fighting my eyes not to wander. But I kept it cute. Didn’t want to look like a certified groupie, especially after enduring the embarrassment I was already in.
The teammate had his life together clean apartment, candles burning, real furniture I was ready to risk it all. Meanwhile, my “host” was laid out on this man’s couch like he paid rent. At one point, I considered asking the teammate if he needed a guest for the weekend. I couldn’t even entertain it because I came with Bob the Benchwarmer. I literally fell asleep with my purse in my lap, dreaming of better decisions and TSA lines back to JFK.

Moral of the Story?

Never accept a flight from a man who’s barely getting flights himself. If people say he’s weird, he’s weird. And if your gut says, “Girl, stay home,” listen to her she’s wiser than you think.

I played myself. But at least it was good character development… and now a funnyass blog post.