Baby boy you stay on my mind...Fulfill my fantasies...I think about you all the time...I see you in my dreams--Beyonce

After leaving P.A.L.S. Bingo last night, I contemplated how I would continue my efforts at being a newly divorced socialite. So I called Gianni to see if he had plans. He didn't. Nevertheless, I listened to him recount the final moments leading up to his recent disunion as I sped down Interstate 85. DRAMA!!! I listened ever so intently, carefully choosing my responses because it wasn't too long ago that I was playing the same role in another tired theatrical production of "Deez Niggaz is Crazy!" So after a lengthy conversation which did not lead to any definitive plans for recreation, Gianni decided to finish watching Gigli. (Huh!?) I let him. EB momentarily calls as Floetry's video for 'Wanna B Where U R' ends on Midnight Love. He asks if I plan to go to Halo. I had considered it. And now my interest was renewed. I was not in the mood for dressing up (Halo's a trendy spot), so I kept on my white t-shirt, jeans, PRO-Keds, and NY Mets jacket. I knew that this would be a different kind of night when EB greeted me at the bar with, "You lookin real trade-ish!?" Soon after, I ran into a Dillard alum that I hadn't seen in a minute. After two pints of Stella Artois, Dillard and I walked over to Bulldogs. I stepped it up a notch with Vodka and Cranberry. The next thing I knew, I was letting this man back "it" up and do an erotic slow wind on me as I leaned against an arcade machine. After the vertical lap dance, Dillard and I made our rounds around the bar. And that was when I noticed Baby Boy on the dancefloor. Cafe au lait, low fade, pretty, college boy kunt. He wore plaid pants in an eccentric fashionable kind of way. I pointed him out to Dillard who was working someone, unbeknowst to me, at the bar. (I could sense the body language) So I made my advance towards the dancefloor near Baby Boy until our bodies met and writhed in syncopation to a digitized Timbaland track. It felt good. The next thing I knew I was sitting on the edge of his bed watching him put his PJ's on. While sitting there, I noticed not one...not two...not three...but four different incarnations of Spongebob Squarepants.

me: So, how old are you?
Baby Boy: nineteen
me: (gagging and wondering to myself how he got into the club) Ok

me: What's with Spongebob?
Baby Boy: Just a little fascination. My friends and family always buy me Spongebob if they see him at a store or something.
me: Ok

I decided to continue robbing the cradle. I mean, what's seven years!? Age ain't nothing but a number!? Right!? Demi/Ashton!? Vivica/50 Cent!?

So after an uncomfortable few minutes kissing on his twin bed, I suggest we go back to my place. Sex was out of the question at this point, so we talked and held each other into our slumber. Morning came and went. Afternoon came and went. Evening (5:00pm), I drove him back home and I went to work. Surprisingly, I really enjoyed his company. We laughed and teased. We watched videos and even Oprah together. Conversation revealed atleast a 21 year old's maturity. So I guess, we'll just take it slow and see what happens.