Mo Problems
The closest that I came to getting a girlfriend in 2008 was a middle-aged woman, Deborah, who was living with a female friend named Mo. Deborah was a red-haired metalhead who fit the stereotype of a BBW who is crazy for BBC (i.e. big black cock), although she didn’t have a queen of spades tattoo. Anyway, Deb invited me for a night out so that we could sleep together. We went on a pub crawl that started with the St. Charles Napier pub (a.k.a. The Napier). What prevented me from sleeping with her was that Mo owned the house. I don’t know the full extent of their relationship, but it seems that Mo had only let Deb live with her because she had a crush on her. I wished that Deb asked Mo’s permission prior to inviting me.
Mo constantly came over to where I was sitting so that she could threaten me. If I was tall or a bodybuilder, she would probably have either flirted with me or maybe threatened me by claiming that she had strength with numbers i.e. lots of friends or brothers. Things were already awkward because there was this indie-looking white guy who was trying to flirt with Deb, no matter how intimate that she was with me. He looked to be in his early twenties. He didn’t speak to me, but I knew he was smug. He had a cocky smile that suggested entitlement. His entanglement was pricklier than mine since Mo thwarted his advances in a more volatile manner. He made the mistake of trying to “close the gap” between himself and Deb. He also made the mistake of being snarky with Mo. If he had a scooter, I would say he scooted home. Instead, I will say that he skedaddled.
There were two bouncers - one white, one black, both bald. At one point, Mo told them that I threatened to kill her. They laughed because they could see that she was the one making threats. Part of what made her unbelievable was that I did not say a single word. Despite her setback, I couldn’t afford to be snide with her. I remained passive. It’s too bad that I generally didn’t have a wingman nor a wingwoman. In this instance, having such a sidekick would’ve circumvented Mo’s warpath. As a male, you need a sidekick because that person serves as your character witness and your alibi if you find yourself in a legal entanglement. Otherwise, a person can cockblock you by disguising their defamation of character as a warning (telling you not to do something as if you have a history of doing it) or as a prediction (disguising an aspersion by not saying “I think” or “I bet” at the start of a sentence).
Back to the night, two policemen came in so that they could arrest a white guy. The police took him away without question, so that gave me the opportunity to leave before Mo thought about lying to them about myself threatening her. Having missed the last train from Blackburn to Colne, I felt dejected. I returned to the city center, stood in the hose-like rain and waited for one of the few taxis to drive by. An Asian taxi driver had mistaken me as being of the same ethnicity, so he offered a cheap ride to Burnley. Thankfully, it stopped raining. I then walked to Colne. This was almost 6 miles.
