Big Wig

trumphair27n-6-webI peered into the large glass front restaurant and knew it was him. He stood there, posed, one leg up on the bottom rung of the bar stool, looking confidently toward the front door. Even from twenty yards away I could tell something was off. What was going on with his hair? I approached suspiciously. He caught my eye and immediately turned on his heels kissing me on both cheeks. He was very animated and his skin tight and bright – heathy eating or Dermabrasion, I wondered. As he chatted away asking what I’d like to drink my eyes went back to his hair – full and dark brown – not a gray hair in site and no variation in color, a thick helmet of hair. Surely it was a wig. Not just a wig but one of the worst wigs I’ve seen in my life. I was angry with myself for being disappointed. What if he had been ill? Surely, I could forgive a wig.toupees64002

As my date downed two ice teas and I sipped half a bottle of San Pellegrino I looked past the wig and focused instead on his crepe-y skin. It was not the skin of a man my age let alone someone a few years younger as he had mentioned. I immediately wondered if he had lied on his dating profile. Pink flag. Hair and age could not be vetted on the telephone. I told myself to see if I liked the guy and then worry about the wig and the fib about his age.

The most interesting part of the date was when he mentioned that he was working with a woman, I’ll call Sandra, I had met decades before. And a woman who I knew had been a high-priced call girl/madam for New York’s elite. These were women who wore only Chanel, Armani and Balenciaga. Their designer handbags only carried a lipstick and a hundred dollar bill which naturally they couldnever break. They dripped in jewelry and tended to travel by chauffered cars way before Uber, Gett and Lyft. Sandra was now a legitimate business owner and living at one of the most prestigious buildings in the city. When I asked how they had met, my date said he knew her a good twenty-five years after that he suddenly became very evasive. Another flag.toupee

Wig or not, I knew that my date wasn’t for me. I looked at my watch and said I had to run. My date seemed disappointed I was skipping out so soon. I kissed both his cheeks and was on my way.

Three days later while on my personal Facebook page a “Friend Suggestion” popped up. I examined the familiar photo. It was my date with the wig! The really surprising thing was his name appeared as Dominic Christiano not Dominic Black. I thought back to our initial phone conversation where he dropped his last name. Something about the way he fit it into the conversation didn’t feel natural. So when I hung up, I did something I normally would not do, I Googled him. I couldn’t find one person with his full name – and oh, yes. I spelled it every which way. In today’s world this was a dark pink flag.

bad_toupeeI left Facebook and googled Dominic Christiano and up popped an awful lot of information about my date! He was actually 17 years older than he had told me! Yes, 17. One – Seven! And they say women take off a year or two! Surely he had had a facelift! That was just the tip of the iceberg. There was also an $70 million-plus judgment against Bad Wig for falsely marketing and devising an “elaborate hoax” for hair-growth products! Initially, I found that extremely funny considering the awful toupee until  I began to realize how many people he had deceived. This guy had lived the life of Riley while hair challenged people had spent thousands of dollars hoping for some hair miracle.

Ladies, and gentlemen, trust your gut and do your research before you get involved. A pink flag will likely become a field of red flags. You surely don’t want to be dating a criminal with or without a wig.


I Have a Boyfriend 2

9878211724_3ccc592f66_mMore from Amy…

One day I was walking home from Target, when a man approached me on the street. I was struggling with a shelving unit I’d bought that was about the same size as me, when he offered to help me carry it. I turned him down for an entire block, because I didn’t want this to turn into a pick up line. But, by the time I got to the third cross walk, I knew I needed the assistance.

He helped me carry the shelf back to my building, and then left with a thank you. Awesome, right? Someone did an honest good deed, so where am I going with this story? Well, obviously, this isn’t the end of my tale.

I ran into him about a week later on the street in front of my building. He said “I’ve been thinking about you all week, and I was just wondering if I could have your number.”

I said “I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend, and I don’t think he’d appreciate you calling. It’s nothing personal, I just don’t give my number out to strangers. It’s disrespectful to my relationship.”

He said “So, we can’t even be friends? I think we could be friends.”

And I said “no, I’m sorry. I have had a lot of bad experiences with friends and I just don’t give out my number anymore. Thank you for your help the other day. But, I’m good.”

Now, at the time, I was texting a friend. So, my phone was right there in my hand. He proceeded to grab it and call himself, stating “here, now you can say you had no choice” as if that was somehow a good thing.

Before any of you act like this is some shocking thing that never happens, I want you to know that this has in fact happened to me multiple times. It sounds crazy if you’ve never seen it. But, I assure you, there are many men out there who think this move just shows “confidence” and isn’t creepy at all.

He texted me later that night. I didn’t answer. He called me later that night. I didn’t answer. He did the same thing the next day and, again, I did not answer.

Finally, on my birthday, I got a call from an unknown number. When I clicked the message, this is what I heard; “Bitch, I don’t know why you have my man’s number or why he’s over here blowing up your spot. But, I want you to know that he’s married. He has a child. And not only that, HE HAS AIDS. Did he tell you that? Did he tell you he gave it to me? Because he did. So, leave him alone before he gives you that dirty ass dick of his. Or if you already fucked him, then enjoy having HIV.”

I texted this strange new number and said “your husband took my phone and called himself. I have a boyfriend and have zero interest in being with him. Thanks for the info, I will continue to ignore his calls.”

Later that night, he called and left a crazy voicemail that said “my ex is just jealous. She’s stalking me. Maybe we could meet up for coffee sometime and talk this over? I’m free on Thursday if you want to go out.” Needless to say, I did not call him back.

😱😱😱😱😱 ‪#‎SAYWHAT‬ “You’re just another bitch”


I met this guy at a bar. I will be honest, I don’t really remember what we talked about or why I gave him my number. But, apparently, I did because he started calling me everyday after that night out.

I was honestly too busy to answer the phone the first couple times. But, when he started sending me texts three times a day that said “hey, you alive? You can’t answer your phone? What? Are you that busy?” I decided it was probably best that I continue to ignore him.

After about a week of not returning his calls, he left me a voicemail that said “you know, I thought we had a real connection. But, obviously you’re just another whore trying to get a free drink. I hope bitches like you burn in hell for what you do to men. You aren’t even that cute. I’ve fucked cuter. You’re just another bitch.”

And this, ladies and gentleman, is why I never allow random men at the bar to buy me drinks anymore. 😐😐😐 ‪#‎ICanBuyMyOwn‬

So, anyway, I hope that sheds some light on why women don’t hand their number out like candy. ‪#‎TheMoreYouKnow‬

I Have a Boyfriend


Here is another great piece by my dear friend @AmyDetRiotGirl . Gotta love the honesty!

Sometimes men ask me why women are so scared to give our numbers out. I would think that the answer to this would be obvious, but since there still seem to be people out there who think that women are just being uppity or cold by not wanting to share the digits, I thought I’d share a few of my worst stories on this topic.

• “I have a boyfriend”

A friend of mine and I were waiting for a transfer one night out at Broadway Junction. He fell asleep on me, while I stayed up and played games on my cell phone. As I sat there minding my own business, a man approached me and said “hey baby girl, how’s you night?”

I said “it’s fine. I’m trying to beat this level.”

He said “oh well, if you want to stop for a minute, I’d really like to say hi and maybe get your number.”

I said “I’m in the middle of this level. I’m sorry, but I’m trying to concentrate right now.”

He said “girl, that’s just a game. I’m offering you something better.”

I said “no, really. I want to finish this level. And, anyway, I have a boyfriend.” as I pointed to my friend, who helpfully started snoring as he rolled over on my shoulder.

And, here it comes, the most dumbfounding response ever… “But, baby… HE’S ASLEEP.”

😳😳😳😳 ‪#‎AreYouSerious‬


I have the most incredible friends. They are fun and funny, talented, kind, honest, loyal, silly, smart and well-traveled. They are from all over the world, every beautiful color you can imagine, a variety of religions and sizes. They not only make me laugh, but they encourage me to look at life from a slightly different angle. My friends are my rainbow. What they bring to my life is the pot of gold we’re all hoping to find.

I have been after my friend Amy to write a blog entry for me since before I launched The V Word Blog. I know she’s working on the piece – maybe it’s still in her head at the moment – but it will arrive at soem point.  I know one day I will click on my mail icon and there it will be sitting in my inbox. In the meantime, I have Amy’s permission to post one of her funny, and far too short, videos. World, please meet Amy!

See more from Amy @AmyDetRiotGirl on Instagram