I reached out to you when you first started working at [redacted]. You acted like your shit doesn’t stink, but I figured it was that Angry New Yorker “in yo’ face” attitude.
We went out to lunch, and you scolded me loudly in PUBLIC, because I didn’t tip enough.
Foolish me, I chalked it up to that Angry New Yorker attitude. The masochist in me wanted to see through that and see the real you. A potential buddy, who can teach me something new or interesting. Plus you’re lesbian! Just like my old BFF Michelle! So, y’know, YAY for diversity!
After consistently expecting me to pay for outings and drinks, you labeled me as CHEAP (I remember your exact words: “not generous”), just because I don’t enjoy being used by someone I’m still getting to know, ESPECIALLY if we’re NOT dating or intimate! You were calling me names because I’m not a flamboyant extravagant irresponsible douche, and I expect Fair Play and Reciprocity from a FRIEND! When did being fiscally responsible become a fucking demerit??? See, that’s why black people in this country are poor and STAY poor.
By the way, I noticed you NEVER did treat me to dessert, like you’d promised. Several times.
Yeah, look in the mirror.
Anyway… yet, like a good buddy I am, I invited you into my home for dinner, and you still found a way to be totally obnoxious, questioning me about what I’m serving you. IN MY OWN F***ing KITCHEN, Natasha.
“Holy Rudeness, Batman!”.
Seriously, what were you in a past life, a barbarian?
Of course, this was just before buttering me up with how you think I’m “really cool” and we’ll be “good friends”. Of course I believed you, because I’m naive like that. Then, like an idiot, I confided in you re: a few personal matters. Little did I know that that big nigger mouth of yours wasn’t only good for munching rugs.
Then, after that awful, tasteless “dinner” (which I basically paid for, goddammit!) at your completely unnecessary and pretentious Deluxe Apartment In The Sky, you cut off contact with me without rhyme or reason.
Then I heard you were talking about me behind my back.
I shoulda seen that coming.
You’re quick to talk about other people, quicker than a crack fiend being shaken down by the local five-oh. I should have known you’ll talk about me. Well, now I know. It’s my fault for thinking better of you. You use the word “friend” so casually, it holds no gravitas for you, because you do NOT know how to be one. You CAN’T be anyone’s friend. You’re not emotionally mature or stable, and you might never be. You’re too focused on money, superficialities, appearances, and material things. And you looooove attention. Of any kind, male or female. For all your high-minded talk about how black people should be more unified and be good to each other, you’re the WORST offender. You’re a complete phony, a disgrace to the Negro race. A race that I’m unfortunately forced to SHARE with you and your ilk.
You’re a sad, EMPTY shell of a human being.
Wait… No no, no… I’m sorry, I misspoke… Human? No. I don’t believe you HAVE a human mother OR father, because you were CLEARLY raised by WOLVES.
In conclusion, Natasha, please eat shit and die.
A down-to-earth person who’s NOT an Angry Lesbian New Yorker.
PS: Do NOT bother call, text, or email me… you’re blocked. I won’t read any emails/texts, or listen to any VMs from you.
PPS: Your dog smells like, real bad. Like a cute little furry bucket of sewage. I mean, seriously, BATHE your fucking DOG.