I’m A Fu$#&@% Introvert – Part 1

My name is Robin Megan Carter, and I’m a famous author. Well actually, famous might be a bit of an exaggeration. If I’m honest, I was more of a one hit wonder like Vanilla Ice. I bet you’re singing “Ice Ice Baby” right now and will curse me later because you won’t be able to get the song out of your head. Good luck with that.

My first novel, The Human Mask, was on the New York Times bestseller list for three weeks and sold over 35,000 copies. Radio, newspapers, and magazines were all clamoring to interview me. However, my inability to construct a coherent sentence in the face of strangers was humiliating, which is why I turned them all down. How could I present myself as an author, when I struggled to converse articulately in public? For me, speaking in front of a group of people was equivalent to being chased through the woods by Jason Voorhees. “Chi, chi, chi; ha, ha, ha,” my ass. To my scary friends who don’t watch horror films, that’s the sound Jason made right before he killed someone in the Friday the 13^th movies. The individuals’ fear in those films was instigated by a fictional character who wielded a knife. But, my terror was triggered by the idea of transferring my energy to trespassers – people who brandished imaginary weapons that threatened my livelihood. That probably sounds a little too deep and melodramatic for some of you, “but keep in mind that I’m an artist, and I’m sensitive about my shit.” – Erykah Badu.

It really is a lot to ask a person like me to expend my energy to answer the same questions repeatedly, when I need that momentum just so that I can function as a normal human being. Yes, I wanted to sell more copies of my book, but it felt like I’d be selling my soul also, which was too high of a price to pay.

My decision to not go public as the writer of The Human Mask angered both my agent and publisher, and they both dropped me. Frankly, they weren’t that great anyway, and that’s what I’ll keep saying to myself, and anyone else who asks, to feel better. Since their desertion, I’ve been looking for replacements, but no one wants to represent me because I’ve been labeled as problematic in the industry. Truth is, I’m not an asshole, at least not all of the time. I’m just a fu$#&@% introvert, and this is my life.

Disclaimer:  To all my friends who may believe erroneously that the characters depicted in this blog are in any way, shape or form like them, I can guarantee that any similarity to you is merely a coincidence. So, don’t call, text, or email me trying to confirm your presence. I am not cutting you a check.

 

Blog Episode 1, Part 1 – My Grandmother Died

I am sitting on the sofa texting with my best friend, Carmen, when my phone starts to ring. I stare at it in disbelief. Why in the hell do people call you in the middle of texting? If I wanted to talk, I wouldn’t be texting…that’s just common sense…duh. Instead of answering, I place my phone on the table and pick up the remote to the TV. I turn it on and put in the number of my favorite channel. A cheesy Hallmark movie is just starting, and I smile. “Maybe this means it’s going to be a good night, Ziggy,” I say out loud to my dog who’s lying in the corner on a pile of unclean clothes.

When the doorbell rings a few minutes later, I slump down in the cushions and lower the volume on the television to 0. If you come to my house uninvited, I’m not going to answer the door. For all I know, you could be a Jehovah Witness, and if so, you’re too late because I’ve already booked my one-way ticket to hell. And to any Jehovah Witnesses out there reading this, no offense but ya’ll are annoying. Stop coming to my place at 8 am on a Saturday. I’m still asleep and irritable that early in the morning. If I ever do decide to answer the door this is how the conversation will go.

     “Hello Ma’am. Do you know Jesus?”

     “No, but what I do know is that if you don’t get the hell away from my door, you’re going to catch these hands.”  

The person is persistent and starts to knock loudly, which disturbs my fantasy, but I still don’t move. I’m so proud of myself for teaching Ziggy not to bark when someone is at the door. He’s as unbothered as I am – a true introvert’s dog. My phone vibrates, and I pick it up to read the text, “Answer the door, Bitch. It’s colder than Frosty’s ass cheek out here.” I still don’t budge, but then I hear Carmen yell, “I know you’re in there, Robin. I put a tracker on your phone.”

There’s no way she could have put a tracker on my phone, but that was clever enough for me to let her in and break my own rule. I get up to open the door, and Carmen briskly enters the apartment. She looks around at my mess and shakes her head in disgust.

“Girl, it looks like you haven’t cleaned this place since Obama left office.” We both bow our heads in a moment of silence for our forever president.

“So, let me see if I understand this, Carmen. First, you text me, which I respond to, but that’s not good enough, so you call me. And then when I don’t answer, you show up here. I hate that you live so close to me. I feel like I’m being stalked.”

“Seriously Robin? I must be a lazy stalker then because I haven’t seen you in almost 2 weeks.” Carmen removes some trash from the sofa and tosses it on the floor. Once a space is clear, she sits down.

“Shit. Is that all? It seems like I just saw you yesterday.” I take the seat next to her.

“If you had simply picked up when I called, I wouldn’t have come here. I even tried to DM you, but I got an error message. Did you unfollow me on Twitter like you did Trevor and Ashley?”

“I didn’t unfollow anyone, you guys are temporarily blocked.”

“Why do you even bother with social media when you have everyone blocked, Robin?”

“Because I need an online presence for my book. But you know how badly people get on my nerves, so I either mute or block them. Social media has become like a digital hunger games and some days it’s simply too much to deal with. I just hope those jackals never find out that I can’t see their tweets because I don’t want to lose any of my followers.”

“But we’re not jackals, Robin. We’re you friends. Or perhaps you see us as just followers too.”

“Don’t be silly, Carmen. Of course, you guys are more than just my followers. But if you want us to remain friends then you know that this is for the best,” I state sincerely. “You know how much I hate talking even when it’s with family or friends. I’d rather have my teeth pulled than engage in small talk. I have more important things to do with my time like writing the sequel to my book.”

“I get that but ignoring my call while we were texting was rude as fuck. I think I may have actually seen your eyes rolling at me through the phone.”

I laugh, “My eye rolls are infamous.”

“That’s nothing to be proud of, Robin,” Carmen states derisively.

“It’s an art, Carmen, and you’re just mad that God didn’t bless you with it. My eye rolls shut down all unwanted advances, and it’s a silent fuck you.”

“Bitch, everything you do is a silent fuck you, and you know it. Not answering calls, not responding to texts until days later, and using the excuse that your grandmother died when you don’t want to go out.”

“That’s not a lie though. My grandmother really did die.”

“Twelve times?”

“I can’t help it if my grandfather was a rolling stone. Thirteen wives and counting…”

Carmen shakes my head. “I guess it’s only a matter of time until you kill number thirteen then.”

“Probably.” I grab the remote and turn off the TV. “So why are you here, Carmen?”

“I came to collect on the debt you owe me.”

“I don’t owe you anything…” I stop talking when I see Carmen pointing at the brand-new laptop on my table.

“If it wasn’t for my boyfriend, you wouldn’t have that MacBook. You’d still be using that relic HP that still had Windows 95 on it.”

“95 was a good year.”

“Please. You were probably the only person still using floppy disks in 2018.”

“Dammit Carmen. I should have known that you were going to be a nuisance about this. But technically, I owe Corny, not you.”

“His name is Cornelius.”

“Corny suits him better, and you know it. I mean the guy is 27 but wears Steve Harvey suits and winged-tipped shoes like he’s 60. He even has that same mustache except his makes him look like a porn star.”

“He’s a really good guy, Robin, if you’d simply take the time to get to know him. We’re going to the Beyoncé concert in a few weeks, and he asked me if you wanted to go. I told him how much you love her, and he was considerate enough to invite you.”

The people that truly know me, understand that the way to my heart is through Beyoncé. “Of course, I want to go. How much are the tickets?”

“$750.”

“Bitch, you must be crazy. You know I don’t have a job. What am I supposed to do sell a kidney so that I can go?

“Of course not. But, we’re in the orchestra section, which is why they’re so expensive.”

“Is Bey planning to have a séance and resurrect MJ, Prince, and Whitney to make them her special guests because that’s the only way I’m paying that kind of money for a concert?”

“No. It’s her and Jay, who you also love.”

“I don’t love that motherfucker that much. Are Blue Ivy and the twins going to sing and dance too because I’m going to need them to come out like the Jackson 5 and perform as a family for that price.”

Carmen starts to laugh hysterically. “You are such a nut, Robin. You’re the only person I know that can make me laugh without even trying.”

“Dude, I’m just saying.”

“You know if you had a real job then you wouldn’t have to worry so much about money. That’s part of the reason why I’m here.”

“Hmmm…I definitely want to hear this then. What kind of crazy scheme are you trying to rope me into to repay Corny’s debt, Carmen?”

“It’s no big deal. I just want you to go out with his brother.”

“Oh, hell naw. The last time you hooked me up on a blind date, the dude showed up in a stolen car and got arrested at dinner.”

“He was just trying to impress you.”

“Yeah, 5-7 years for grand theft auto is pretty impressive.”

Carmen giggles, “He’s out now, by the way. You remember how cute he was, right?”

“I’m sure the guys in prison thought he was cute too. And I’m not trying to date some guy who wants to play butt patrol with me. I’m good.”

“Well, Cornelius’ brother isn’t like that. He has a great job, a house, and a nice car.”

“So, what’s wrong with him then?”

“Nothing. Let me find his Facebook page and show you some pictures.” Carmen pulls up his page on her phone and shows me his profile pic.

I’m surprised because he’s cute. “That looks like his graduation picture. How old is this guy?”

“He’s a few years older than Cornelius.”

“Just how many are a few, Carmen?”

She hesitates, “Uh, 13.”

“Oh, so he’s Old Old.”

“You like older men, though.”

“A few years older, not my father older.”

“If you go out with him then not only will your debt for the laptop be paid in full, but Cornelius and I will also buy your Beyoncé ticket.”

Works for me. “That’s bribery.” My brain is working overtime trying to figure out what else I can get from the deal. Free food? A new car? I feel like a participant on a game show. Robin Megan Carter come on down, you are the next contestant on the Price Is Right.

“Yup. Do we have a deal?” Carmen opens her Spotify app and starts playing Beyoncé songs.

“That’s dirty fighting.” No need to do all of that. I’m already committed to doing whatever it takes for a free Bey ticket.

She turns the app off. “I learned from the best.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll do it. But this dude better not be hideous in person or I’m coming for both you and Cornelius, and my revenge game is strong.”

Carmen nods her head. “Oh, I know. By the way, Trevor and Ashley are going too. I told them that I was setting you up with Julius, and Trevor seemed heartbroken. I really don’t understand why you won’t give him a chance, Robin. You know he’s been in love with you since the 10^th grade.”

“Wait, how are you going to change the subject like that after mentioning that dude’s name is Julius? Is one of their parents white because there’s no way that two black parents would name their kids Cornelius and Julius?”

“Yeah. Their mom is white.”

“I thought so.”

“So, what about Trevor?”

“What about him? Carmen, you know he’s not my type. And why are you over here trying to set me up with two guys? Are you trying to elevate my hoe status?”

“You can’t be a hoe if you never leave the house.”

“That’s not true. All I have to do is go on a porn site where there are plenty of guys with mustaches like Corny who offer sex for free. They would come here over with no problem.”

“Yeah and probably kill your ass.” Carmen phone suddenly vibrates, and she glances at it. “I have to go. My pornstache guy is waiting for me.” She stands and heads toward the door.

I stand and follow her. “Wait. You never told me how I’m going to earn real money.”

“You start your new job on Monday at my company. You’re going to be a loan underwriter so be there at 8 am to meet with HR and fill out your paperwork.”

“What!?! I don’t want to go back into the corporate world, Carmen! You know I don’t know how to interact with people. I’ll end up getting fired on my first day.”

“No, you won’t. Just be on time,” Carmen says as she opens the door. “And Robin, if you don’t show up, I’ll have my mom kick you out of this apartment since you can no longer afford to pay the rent.”

“You wouldn’t dare. Your mom loves me.”

“Try us.” Carmen walks out and leaves me standing in the doorway. I’m equally shocked and proud of my friend for getting the best of me for once.

 

In part two of My Grandmother Died, which is coming next week, my constant need to use my deceased grandmother as an excuse to get out of certain situations backfires on me. You’ll probably think that I deserve everything that happens. But I swear, it isn’t really my fault.

Stay tuned…