Single Girl Sh*t: Macking

Macking is an art yo.  Tariq “K-Flex” Nasheed didn’t write about it for nothing. Over the course of the years I’ve somehow mastered that “the mack” and have mastered it as skillfully as a Geisha in Japan.

You may be wondering what the actual hell I’m talking about, so here’s where I get into the definition. defines, macking as “flirting, being ostentatious to attract member(s) of the opposite sex.”


I can’t say that I attribute the art of macking to one thing in particular, but I will say this – it takes confidence, absolute zero fear of rejection (because you may not be able to “mack” every (wo)man you set your eyes on), charm and the gift of gab to mack.   Oh wait, how could I forget the most important thing – a nice smile.  Trust me, the aforementioned requirements can be utilized by anyone, from the not so cute to the incredibly attractive.

Now that I’ve clearly defined what macking is perhaps I should share an example of my recent mack and how it backfired on me.

I have decided once and for all that Corporate America is not a place that I want to call home much longer, so after much thinking I have decided to reinvent myself and make myself more marketable by going back to school.  I’m not returning to acquire a  masters degree in some arbitrary subject because that doesn’t appeal to me.  I’m returning to acquire another Associate’s Degree in a field that I always flourished in, dental.

I graduated from high school as a Dental Assistant and regret not heeding my dear teacher’s advice to go the Dental Hygienist route.  Instead I did the Liberal Sciences thing (A.A.S from CUNY Queensborough), the Physician’s Assistant thing (at SUNY Downstate Medical Center – but didn’t complete the curriculum, left after six months), and ultimately the Community Health Education thing (I acquired my B.S in that field from CUNY York in 2010).  Sometimes, it takes people a longer time than others to find out what they’re destined to do in life.  Anyway, I digress.

As I was saying, I made a trip to downtown Brooklyn (Jay Street to be specific) last week to meet with the chair of City Tech’s Dental Hygiene program so I could pick her brain and learn what I would have to do to apply for their program.  Upon entering the building I was prompted to show my ID to a VERY attractive cop (or so I thought, I’ll get into this shortly) before going any further. After doing so, I proceeded to ask this sexy man him for directions to dental hygiene department.  I flashed my NYS Driver’s License and noticed that my ID wasn’t the only thing being scrutinized.  I smiled, and acted as if I didn’t notice his elevator eyes while I inconspicuously checked him out as well.  After all,  remaining subdued is also requirement for successful macking – you never want to appear desperate or “thirsty”.

I received directions to my desired destination and proceeded to walk away.  I felt it – I was certain that his eyes were on me as I walked away (ladies you know that feeling right?) so I turned around and confirmed my suspicions, he was indeed looking at me.  I flashed a coy smile and kept it moving.

Fast forward approximately thirty minutes later, I was done with my appointment – it was time to head back home.  Sure, there were countless exits around the school, but I NEEDED to go out of the doors that I used to enter the school.  Why?  Because I wanted to speak to the “cop” again.

As I made my way down the steps towards the main entrance, the “cop” and I locked eyes.  It was apparent, something had to be said about the mutual attraction.  I thanked him again for his assistance earlier and made my way towards the doors.  There goes that feeling again – I saw him ogling my body in the reflection of the entrance/exit doors.  I smiled to myself then walked out.  I’d mack another day…. or would I?

I made it about ten feet away from the school before turning around and walking back inside.  Macking in action: Me: So, I’m a bit of a bold woman, how old are you? // Cop:  30 // I thought about his age briefly as I’m a tad older than him, but hey – age is just a number right?  I’m PenniePenz (no I didn’t use my pen name, but for the sake of this post I did), what’s your name?// Cop: Koran // Me:  Cool, nice to meet you.  Would you like to exchange numbers? // Cop:  I would but I’m on camera…. A mack also uses ingenuity – I pretended that I was asking for directions (again) while pretending to show him a map on my phone while simultaneously pointing towards the street (I wanted it to look real).  In reality I was saving his number to my phone and letting him know that I’d text him my number momentarily.    I walked away with a smile because I’d just closed the deal like a mo’phuckin BAWSE.

The Textversation

Me:  Nice meeting you Karon, Pennie Penz // Cop: 🙂 We will chat later, I get off at 3 // Me: Sounds good // Cop: Karon is the correct way to spell it // Me: My fault…..  It was at this moment that my rose tinted glasses broke; those shits shattered into smithereens. This nigga was a security guard, not a cop.  I realized that fact by the mere correction of his GHETTO ass name.  He told me his name a few short minutes ago, but for some reason it didn’t sound so hood – reading it changed everything.  I realized that he stressed the KA of his name, like “KAY-RON” (OH HELL NO!!) Suddenly my thought process kicked in with the quickness…. Did this nigga just say Qu’Ran as in the holy book for the Nation of Islam?  Are his parents muslim?  Does he pray to Mecca 5x a day? Does he want to be a security guard forever?  Does he carry a flashlight?  I could feel my interest slipping…..

This buffoon proceeds to send me a picture of him, a selfie if you will (as if I didn’t just see him less than one hour ago).  The caption under his picture read “Hey beautiful.”  I wasn’t flattered, I was annoyed.  Who the hell told this ghetto security guard with a shiny cheap badge that I wanted to see his picture? — > Me: Hello handsome// Security Guard: hru (wtf?!?!?!?!?  What kinda crap is this? Little things annoy me, and my friends you guessed it, that made up acronym for “How Are You” grinded my gears.  I didn’t want to play along because I was determined to make this clown write out what the hell “hru” meant)// Me: Hru, what does that mean?// Security Guard: LOL how are you (that also grinds my gears by the way, people use “LOL” too much when texting // Me: Oh ok, all is well with me… // Security Guard: Where is my pix (umm what’s a “pix) of u I sent u one of me (that’s right folks, this genius didn’t use any punctuations while texting)// Me:  I didn’t tell you to do that // Security Guard: Where u from? (Sigh, “where u from?” I couldn’t even get a “so where are you from?”).  At this point I was simply going through the motions because my communication was about to cease completely in a few minutes.  // Me: Queens, but I live in BK, yourself? // Security Guard: I’m Brooklyn (whatever the eff that means) still live in Brooklyn LOL Marcy projects

That was it.  I was done.  This dude was the EPITOME of a dude you’d find in the  hood.  My mack was on point, but I wasted it on a thirty year old security guard at a CUNY institution repping BK hard as a proud resident of Marcy Projects.  Great, just great.

I had to laugh at the course of events that transpired that day.  I thought I bagged a cop, but in reality I bagged a a rent-a-cop that is probably a rapper on the side.  Note to self, maybe its time to invest in some contact lenses.  Ah well, sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.

Until Next Time Friends!




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s