From the Archives: A few things I need in a boo...

As we're revisiting Bouige Blasts from the past, this one about me foolishly attempting to chase a wannabe robber (he's currently serving 12 - 15) caught my eye. Enjoy:

There are plenty of things I love about being single – autonomy, no sharing of the remote control and the ability to skip shaving my legs for a day (or two) without complaints. [Don't judge me!] However, as we head towards the fall/winter season and the holidays, there are definite reasons for landing a significant other (aka getting booed up). But not just any boo will do. I have very specific requirements for Mr. Good-Bougie. This week I'll look at a few of them in my own special "OneChele" way.

Requirement #5: Security. No not financial or emotional, I'm talking actual firearm bearing, black suit wearing security. Allow me to share:

Last week, I'm at home upstairs in my office wrapping up some phone calls. BougieMom had lent her car to an in-law so she called me to come and scoop her up from the senior citizens' center where she plays bridge. (BougieMom's social life is better than mine. L Moving on.)

Now some background info, BougieMom is 77 and lives with me in a home large enough for us to sometimes ignore each others' existence. It's a two-story stone and brick structure in a gated community. When I am upstairs in my office, I can block out the world. I say all this to say, we have always felt extremely secure here.

So on this fine sunny day last week, I walked out of my office, across the game room and started down the stairs. Swinging my purse over my arm, I paused thinking I heard something. Please imagine my shock when I leaned over the banister to see a short pale acne-ridden white man standing in my kitchen. As I watched, he reached across the bar top and picked up the keys to my German luxury automobile and glanced around. His eyes landed on the flat screen TV we have in the breakfast nook.

I scanned him up and down and saw no noticeable weapons, a frail frame and I deduced that I outweighed him. In other words, I could take him if I had to. All of this brilliant thought in less than a minute. Now what I did next shocks me in hindsight and if asked ahead of time, I would have sworn that I would not have done this.

I opened my mouth and said, 'What the hell?" He turned and looked at me obviously shocked that someone was home. I went from stunned to pissed in no time flat and my inner Shaniqua came out. He made a move as if heading towards the garage and I said, "There's not a chance in hell that you can make it out of the garage in my m.f. car before I get down there and catch your ass." With that I flew down the stairs still talking trash," Not this house, not today!" As I hopped down from the last stair to the landing, he decided to cut his losses. "Shit!" he said before flinging my keys in one direction and running past me to the back door (answering my question of how he'd gotten in).

Still not thinking and still enraged, I snatched up the keys, ran out to my car and wheeled out looking for him. I skidded out of my garage and took a corner on damn-near two wheels, I dialed 911 and shared my story. Gunning it down the side street to try and catch him at the back gate, I gave a detailed description, "Meth-head tweaky looking narrow ass with dirty blond hair, bloodshot blue eyes, 5'8" in a grey tee and stonewash jeans."

I watched him jump the back gate and it occurred to me, "Chele, if you caught this guy, what were you going to do exactly?" I had no clue; I announced to the dispatcher that I was giving up the chase. Adrenaline still high, I retrieved BougieMom and told her the tale. When we got back to the house, we discovered that the lock on the back door was sticking and he was able to jiggle it to get in. Meth-head had opened some of her drawers and taken some cash she had in her nightstand but nothing else. We were counting our blessings when the police called me to say they had actually caught the guy (that never happens) and had him in custody.

Since I live less than two miles from a police substation and the guy had been on foot, they caught him meeting up with his partner behind a drugstore up the road. The duo had hit ten homes in the area. They were suspected of over fifty break-ins across the Dallas-Ft.Worth metroplex. Their m.o. was for one guy to go in during work hours and if there was a car, he could load your car up with your belongings and drive off. Then he met up with his friend who had a big rental truck to consolidate the haul… nervy.

He picked the wrong house on the wrong day. I went to the substation and picked him out in a line-up that same night. BougieMom and I have decided to just leave the alarm on all the time. It was only later when I thought about how many ways that day could have gone worse that I cringed a little. He could have had a gun, his partner could have been with him, my mother could have been home, he could have fought me, I could have fallen down the stairs (wouldn't be the first time).

Before you ask what in all that is bougie was I thinking, I'll tell you – I was thinking "the nerve of this guy! While I'm in my own home trying to earn a nice living and keep a roof over my mother's head to bust up in here and steal what's mine!" If I had it to do all over again, I'd hide in the closet and dial 911… maybe. Or if I had a man, I'd call him to come over and kick the guy's ass. SO while I'm making up my wish list of requirements for the pre-Christmas boo, I believe I'll add large, burly, intimidating or at least handy with firearms (or skilled in jujitsu) to the list.

BougieLand - what would YOU have done?