The literate ones all read that ridiculous Wall Street Journal article this week. No, I didn't link directly to it--I refuse to supply more pageviews to stories about the plight of the "unmarried, over-educated black woman." Well, guess what? The artistes are already rolling out some new material for ya.
Scene of the Crime: The swagsponential new rooftop bar at Lost Society, U Street's newest (and only) boutique steakhouse.
Offense: If you are going to try to pick up a sister with "I'm just here looking for my future wife," and "Can I touch your hair?" you might not want to slur the words. How many Heinekens did YOU have? I'm just saying.
Verdict: Since I had been drinking a magically never-ending glass of Chardonnay that evening, I was in a good mood. His vibe was rather harmless, so I let the brother touch a strand. Don't judge. The twist-outs I rocked were looking pretty good that night, so I understood the temptation. ;) Thankfully, he soon lumbered off to find a more receptive audience for his slightly-inebriated puppy dog routine.
Don't say that deep.honey didn't warn you.
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