I was at the Wholesale Club getting my shop on Saturday. Some days you leave the house knowing you look good. This was not one of those days. My cute game was not on point. My ponytail was of the raggedy variety, my makeup non-existent bar the shiny Carmex on my lips. My jeans had seen better days but at least my tunic tee shirt was cute and a flattering color. Oh the hell with it, I was not looking good and I gave less than a damn. Whatever, I was about business. A thirty-six pack of shrink-wrapped bottled water for $4.88 was serious business. And the fresh salmon was on sale for $3.99/lb – that's crucial.
So I was feeling up the fresh avocados when I felt a disturbance in the force. Literally, a sort of electric hush fell over the veggie section. I looked up and noticed all the women in the immediate area standing with their mouths open. Down the aisle came a fella I immediately nicknamed Chocolate Thunder. Thunder was motion-fiction fine ya'll. Not that I memorized details or anything but old boy was about 6'3", skin the color of sweet tea, he was rocking a black t-shirt and black jeans that clung to a really, really well-maintained physique. He was handsome, fine and had that "sexy thang" going on. [There's always a good reason to play some Chante Moore]
He paused to study the strawberries, seemingly unaware that every female in a four aisle radius imagined themselves feeding him those strawberries one at a time. Yes BougieLand, he was that level of beautiful. Suddenly he looked up and looked around, noticing for the first time that all eyes were on him. He smiled slowly and for some odd reason looked in my direction. "What's up?" He gave the universal black man head bob. I head bobbed back saying, "Uh you know, it's all good." [I know ya'll, #playerFAIL on my part. I told you I wasn't on my "A" game]. Anyway, after adding strawberries and blueberries to his cart he rolled off. The older woman next to me leaned over and said, "Woo, sexy!" I nodded and went about my way.
After I checked out, I loaded my trunk and hopped in my car. Looking over to the right, I saw Mr. Chocolate sitting in his car. I sat just enjoying the view right up until he started digging in his nose. [Eww and ick] And I do not mean a discreet dig. I mean mining for gold in there. And that's not the worst part… after extracting whatever he extracted, he wiped it down first on his shirt and then on his steering wheel. Ugh! The sizzle was gone. I contemplated tossing him some anti-bacterial hand gel and then decided to just go. I was a little nauseous. I've decided to call that a #SizzleKill.
It reminds me of one of my friends relating how he took this super-fine woman that he had been chasing for weeks out to dinner. Apparently she was the shit. Fine, smart, money of her own, in his words: flawless dime. He was so excited to be sitting across from a woman so exquisite and articulate. Right up until the food came and she dug her fingers into the food like the five-star restaurant was a camp site. She ate seafood linguine with her fingers, ignored the presence of silverware and napkins and had the tendency to spit particles of food out of her very full mouth when she spoke. He described the date as sitting in a sauna and having someone repeatedly toss ice cold water on you. See? #SizzleKill
I also find smart-assness (as opposed to caustic wit), bitchassness and trying too damn hard to be #SizzleKills as well. Can we agree that the fascination with fine fizzles, but smart and sophisticated sizzles? Okay, now that I'm rhyming, let me wrap it up here.
I defer to my audience… what is your number one #SizzleKill? Got any #SizzleKill stories to share? Once the sizzle is killed, can you ever get it back?