I Never Call Back…Like EVER

A few days ago, a friend of mine pointed out a bad habit I have. I never call girls back once they give me their number. Apparently, she and some of my other female friends consider this kind of behaviour enough to merit me the title “Worst person in the world”. I am fully aware that this pisses some people off, yet I keep doing it (unintentionally). Why would you work so hard to charm a lady, and then act as if you were uninterested after you’ve obtained her contact information? Read more

You Needa Make More Money Than Me

Call me ole’ fashion but. . . I’d rather that you’d make more money. Does that make me a bad person? Should I not say this out loud? This is ideally in the most ideal sense. You, the man, make more money so I, the woman, won’t have to feel obligated to work [so hard or more than four days out of the week]. But considering that in a few short years, I will be making a nice chunk of change, this really limits my options. And is this wrong? In the practical sense, hell-to-the-yeah. Read more

He’ll Regret it…

He’ll regret it. . .
. . . but then again maybe he won’t.  That is something that I keep to myself, every time, so countless it is disturbing, I am out with my girlfriends over dinner or one the phone with one of them, and a story is being retold about the end of the affair.

‘Affair’ is the correct word more than 93% of the time (yes, I did the math) as opposed to ‘relationship’, because these things ended quicker than they started and nothing was really official. It seems as though every time the DOR conversation was brought up, by the female no doubt, an argument ensued or evasive tactics (e.g. sex) were employed. DOR for those with testosterone outbalancing their estrogen is the “definition of the relationship” aka “so ARE YOU my boyfriend??!!” (said of course in a whiny girly voice, cause the first six or seven times the question was asked, it was done in a proper tone. Frustration reverts us back to barrettes and that single roller bump hanging down on our forehead).

Whatever details that make this retelling seemingly unique from all the other melodramas of the past is irrelevant. Because all too many stories end up with you and your girlfriends commiserating over Thai food and desert all agreeing that

“He’ll regret it one day. One day he’ll realize what a big mistake he made, and that you are the best thing that has ever happened to him!!!”

I am guilty. I have said this shit, and it is shit, before, and have honestly believed it. I mean HONESTLY. Truth be told, many of my girlfriends were just as f%$@ked up as the dude, albeit they had different issues (you know the female-version of insecurity versus the male-version, etcetera etcetera). So why would we assume that it is HIM, that will regret it? That is not to say that she should regret it. All I am saying this that, especially in the superficial-fly-by-night affairs (or even in long term relationships), everyone wins in the end by no longer being together. They each did each other a favor essentially. Fumbling around in the dark, literally and figuratively, and expecting a diamond to pop out of his ass at the end on a bed of pearls (no pun intended, haha!) cannot be healthy on any level. Fumbling around in the dark, just for fumble sake. . . is another discussion (just use condoms people!!!).

So why justify bad decisions by espousing yourself from the blame and unloading the yolk all on the dude? Cause it’s easy. It is easier than saying to your girl. “Girl, you met ole boy at the [insert location, usually ‘the club’] and then hooked up with him [insert the day, usually within a week to be conservative] and he clearly said that he just wanted to [insert ‘just kick it’, ‘was not tryna be tied down’, ‘seeing how it will go’, etc] and every time ya’ll were together ya’ll didn’t go out but basically [insert the vertical or horizontal activity], so how is this soo soo shocking that he is not tryna be ‘bought nuffin?” Yo bad for paying to interview [see previous article].

Okay, that was a bit blunt, pessimistic, and none to empathetic. Another situation. Pretend, and nowadays I mean STRETCH your imagination, that she and he were actually in a really long term committed relationship and it went south for some reason or another, infidelity, long distance, lack of communication, growing disinterest, somebody got fat but not pregnant fat, etc. And the break up was messy. And now you are back to dinner, soul food this time and dessert, and the famous lines are evoked. Still. He may not regret it, even if it was his fault. He may be sorry, eventually, maybe, for the pain that transpired as a result of the dissolution of the union, but regret, ehhh, I am thinking, no. And he may, and chances are for his girls, he may find someone before you and BETTER than you. If this happens, is your self worth no longer validated? Does your self worth balance on the pendulous motion of his assumed regret? Why do we have to do that?

Why can’t we face reality.

“Girl, I dunno what’s gonna happen to him, or you, but these neck bones is goooood!”

Maybe we should leave it at that. And then go work out after.

Chivalry is NOT Dead…

…but that mofo sure is on life support!

Raised a southern gentleman by a single mother, I pride myself on knowing how to treat a lady. In someways it serves as an IQ test, like how long can you go before you f-up. (Grand prize… grandkids.) Even beyond that though, proper manners with the fairer sex generally puts you in a whole new level of manhood. It is part of being a man (rather than claiming you are one). Knowing and doing sometimes differ but that of course depends on the time, place and most likely the lady (if she can so be called).

Part of that however includes the decreasingly common act of chivalry. Currently most notable when a man will open the door for a lady, pull out a chair (for a girlfriend), walk on the street side of the curb (if somehow abandoned by his car). Personally, I do all of the above but still draw the occasional salty reaction for it. Seriously, though? Is it that crucial? Read more