Turnin’ Me On

“You’re fly as hell, swagger right, brown skin poppin’ / you know just how to talk to me / know just how I like / you’re turnin’ me on / you’re turnin’ me on / you’re turnin’ me on . . . / Goin up on it, you actin like you want it / And you stuntin like your daddy, checkin for this little mama / You turnin me on (aaaah) / You turnin me on (aaaah) / You turnin me on (aaaah)”
– Keri Hilson, “Turnin’ Me On”

If Swagger is defined as moving with confidence, sophistication and to be cool or to conduct your self in a way that would automatically earn respect, then Orange Aura can only be described as Swagger on a hundred thousand trillion. If Swagger is something that you can feel when a man walks into the room, then Orange Aura wafts into the room, smelling like the sweetest scent possible, wraps its fingers around your waist and draws you closer and closer to that man. D-Magic says there are men out there who have Orange Aura.  She swears by Lil’ Wayne and his Orange Aura (although, I’m still looking for it).  I have just never personally encountered a man with Orange Aura . . . until last Saturday.  Now, you can call me a bona fide believer in the Orange Aura.

You see, the thing about Orange Aura is that you don’t see it coming.  It disguises itself behind the Swag and then just drops on you like a ton of bricks.  When I walked into the Ballroom at my Alma Mater early that afternoon, I had no idea what I’d be in for.  And, when I sat down next to Mr. Orange Aura himself (I’m still working on a nickname – so I’ll probably try a couple out) I didn’t even realize his aura was about to get me. In fact, I planned on paying him no mind when I sat next to him.  I thought he was some college kid that got stuck in the front row and decided to keep his shades on inside as a silent protest.  Boy was I wrong.  I knew how wrong I was the second he turned to me, extended his hand, gave me a firm handshake and introduced himself as Visa (you know . . . because he’s everywhere I want to be . . . . nah!).

I’m not sure what got me first . . . the smell of his cologne, the electricity I felt when our hands touched, his straight white teeth or his New York accent.  I’m not sure because they all hit me at the exact same time. And then, I did a scan of his ensemble and realized that no college kid could afford the three-piece grey suit he put on, with matching shirt/tie/argyle sock combination he had going on.  And the legit Dolce and Gabbana shades AND glasses sealed the deal.  He was the real thing.

And he just kept getting better!  Degree from a respectable university (one of my mother’s Alma Maters), owns his house in Harlem (yes, owns it . . . a mortgage ya’ll), good job, great sense of style.  Oh, and he’s a Scorpio.  Now, ya’ll know how I feel about horror-scopes, however, it has been said on numerous occasions that a Pisces-Scorpio combination is one of the hottest that you’ll find between the sheets.  Let’s just say that the Scorpion King (hmm, that could work) had me dying to find out if he lived up to the hype. And, this is all before he took those blasted sunglasses off.

Side note: He had them on because he had an unfortunate rollerblading accident that ended in a battle between him and the fence.  The fence won – he had the stitches, swollen eye and popped blood vessel to prove it.

The whole time we paid more attention to each other than what was happening on stage.  So much so that Miss Independent pinged me:

M.I.:  “Are you two flirting.” (notice it was a statement, not a question).
CCB: “Yes.”
M.I.:  “I knew you were, I know your moves.”

Woooooooooooow!  But I didn’t care.  I was getting sucked in further and further by the Orange Aura of it all.  If I had realized what was happening, I may have stopped myself from inviting a complete stranger to dinner with me and D-Magic after the event (and God bless D-Magic’s soul for offering to feign illness if I wanted dinner to be a twosome).  Now you know it has to be way more than Swagger for a man with a busted up eye to look so good!  I found myself enjoying our conversation, however inappropriate it may have gotten at times.  And I was looking forward to dinner.

Thank goodness D-Magic arrived before he did so I could give her the 411 on the situation.  But, when he arrived, I’m pretty sure she knew I had been sucked in by the Orange Aura. If by nothing else than the smile on my face when he kissed me on the cheek upon arrival.  I’m positive she knew – because she spent all day at work e-mailing me about how she “could see everything [we] were doing,” and how I “can’t keep anything from [her]”  She said she saw all the eye things, the knee touches, the leg rubs… oh LORD, let me stop before I get in trouble, lolol.  But you get the point.  There was lots of eye contact (“specific, deliberate sexual eye contact” if you ask D-Magic), lots of flirting, laughing, touching.

And, at the end of the day – your girl felt good!  So good that I made him promise that he’d call me when he came to Illadelph in a couple weeks.  So good, that I finally confessed to being swept up in the Orange Auraness of it all and admitted to loving every minute of it.  Now THAT was a man with swagger on a hundred, thousand trillion.  Whew!

So dear readers – have you ever encountered a man who possessed the Orange Aura? And did it make you do some really out of character things (like randomly invite him to dinner)?  And, is there anyway to combat the Orange Auraness of it all?  If not, I may have a bigger problem than we thought.  And, what should I nickname him?

Signed,
The Orange Aura Got Me Barbie

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~ by countryclubbarbie on April 10, 2009.