A TIME I ACTUALLY PLAYED MYSELF BY SABREENA SALEEM

IS IT TEA if it's about yourself? I mean, is it even scandalous? Regardless, I know you all love laughing at my misfortune, plus it's Wednesday so I know you're thirsty. And I suppose if you're gonna talk shit about anyone and anything, you gotta be able to talk shit about yourself. At #notinterested, nobody is safe. Not even me.

So obviously I have a thing musicians. All my friends are rolling their eyes, boys clutching their pearls, DJs & Soundcloud rappers wigs snatched. I always had a thing for these fools, and unfortunately I probably always will. The weird thing, though, is that it's never the music, or even their attractiveness that gets me. Yeah, I'm an eclectic groupie. It's always some next level weird shit that gets me hooked.

I remember one time in high school I saw this random emo pop punk band perform. I truthfully had no idea who this band was or who was in it, but I knew a few songs from the radio. So I was in the crowd bopping my head, side-eying tall people, and judging kids who wear t-shirts of the band they're seeing to the band's show (which is something I would totally do now) or whatever. Yeah, so I'm like pissed but then all of a sudden there was a light. A heavenly light. The light shined down on the band and in that moment, it hit the lead singers hair just right. And for some reason I couldn't look away. A bitch was shook. Bro, homie wasn't even cute and he didn't even sing that well. But I social media stalked him for like 5 years and went to all of his shows for idek how long. Have you ever stalked someone for 5 years because you saw them singing once and the light hit their hair just right? No, because that's fucking weird.

Most of that is irrelevant right now, but I basically told you all of that to paint a picture of how stupid I truly am and also explain - but not excuse - why I am constantly enamored by not-shit dudes.

One night, around this time last year, my mom and I decided to go to a jazz performance downtown on some mother-daughter bonding shit. We got all cute, ordered wine, ate food, turned up our noses at people for no reason, and befriended the cute girls at the table next to us - as Saleem women do. On this particular night I was really feelin' myself, so when the waiter asked me what I'd like to drink, I ordered an entire carafe of Sauvignon Blanc for myself. And I got shit-faced. 

Unfortunately (unless you're a musician), when I drink Sauvignon Blanc, my alter-ego comes out. We call her Sabreena Blanc. Sabreena Blanc is OD charming, super forward, and rich AF, and she was in full fucking force that night. The performances were decent, but the last act was exceptionally good. There was this one musician jawn playin' whatever instrument. I don't remember if he was that great at playing or singing or anything for that matter, but something about his stage presence had me shook the same way I had been at that stupid pop punk show years ago. I'm all "go 'head boo," throughout the entire set. I think even my mom was like "ooohhkaayyy get it" the whole time. Sabreena Blanc's dumb ass even found him on twitter and started sending him heart eyes and shit. Now I don't remember much because I'm pretty sure I blocked this out of my memory, but apparently after the show I marched on over to him, gave him a side-kiss, and according to my mother I lowered my voice and said "hey baby." I told him he was great and shook his hand and introduced myself. But y'all, he was 100% not interested.

Like, he didn't seem the slightest bit impressed. He even looked at me kinda weird. I was a little shocked because Sabreena Blanc is the shit, but at the same time I didn't really care cuz I was going home to my main jawn anyway. But the next morning, I woke up to a text from my roommate who apparently saw my tweets from the previous night. 

Get this. Apparently I met shorty mooooonths ago and I curved him hard AF. In the first couple of weeks of living here, I went out dancing a lot. One night, I was with my friends and all their corny ass friends drinking, dancing, having a great time. I'm super bad with names and faces, so when anybody came up to dance with me, I was like go away. And I never thought about it again. One dude in particular was really trying it, saying he could teach me to dance or whatever. I wasn't feeling it. He had the same name as another dude I just met (and whose bed I woke up in when I got the news), and two, bitch, I can dance. Curve. Next. Bye. Right? No. This was the same guy I sent heart eye emojis and "introduced myself" to at that god damn jazz show. 

And this is how I played myself.

I obviously laughed my ass off. The nerve of me to fawn over the same guy I hard curved months prior? That shit had me dying. Of course I'm not actually attracted to him, and the best part is that now I see this guy around everywhere.

I'm pretty sure he still knows exactly who I am, but any time we share a room we just look past each other. Maybe one day our eyes will meet and we'll laugh about it. Or maybe we'll never speak again. Either way, shorty is #NOTINTERESTED, and clearly, neither am I.