Ladies, question: where do you stand on your limitations regarding a relationship? You want to know what men talk about at the roundtable while enjoying wine, spirits and ale? This is always a hot topic. Ok, before I dive deep into this topic let me clarify something real quick. The title may move some of you to believe it’s a “thug” related blog. WRONG. Couldn’t be further from the truth.
Every man wants that “Ride or die chick”…..A quick google search will have you believing that a ride or die chick is a woman that will simply fight with and for her man. well…that’s the little boy’s version. And by little boy I mean definitively speaking: under 26, wakes up and smokes weed, and/or makes less than 20k LEGALLY, wears skinny jeans and/or sags, is semi dependent on his mother, I’m referring to him.
For us professionals….a woman who can blend in with the fellas COMFORTABLY, ie; sports, games, etcetera etcetera, attend a debutante ball with the poise of a princess, sit in on a board meeting and contribute, knock back shots at happy hour, and go from urban to proper vernacular in the blink of an eye, is a ride or die chick.
She doesn’t have to fight for/with us….although a sub compact 25 or snub nosed 38 (preferably smith&wesson) in the purse is an added bonus, albeit irrelevant.
A man wants a well versed and well rounded mate. (not in the literal sense fat asses, log some miles on that pedometer already) If you persist in keeping to some of the old ways, you’re going to find yourself matronly and alone. and who want’s that? A lot of you in Jacksonville Florida, based on all the stories I’m hearing. Yes, Jacksonville…I just put some of your trifling asses out there. Again. What’s wrong with you hillbillies and hoodrats? Thank God I imported….
All I hear is, my girl, my wife, my significant other, is verbally (sometimes physically) trying to emasculate me. Seriously? (taps the mic) Is this thing on? Ladies wanting a successful relationship, stop making a “punk” out of your man. The very moment you disrespect his manhood, you have just pushed the emergency stop button on the relationship. …no man is going to tolerate that bullshit and remain faithful to you. Oh, he’ll still sleep with you (because let’s face it sex IS sex) but he won’t give a damn about you. Nope, he’ll continue looking for a woman that doesn’t keep testes in her purse.
So…continue not catering to your man. Continue your petty games in which you seek to control, steer, and ration. good luck with that. Not all men are mesmerized and entranced by the vajayjay. Correction YOUR vajayjay….there’s some next door.
By the way, to you ladies referencing that Steve Harvey book. Last I checked every single relationship is different. no set rules. no set boundaries. how can Mr caterpillar mustache interpretation’s help you? His experiences, his relationships….yeah, his advice is a solid match and will fit along perfectly in yours. Lemme know how that works out for you….I’ll wait, shouldn’t take long.
My advice? No, not my advice, it’s been around for ages…”What it took to get your mate is what it’s going to take to keep your mate”. Switch the game up midstream if you want, and find yourself on PlentyOfFish.com with other matronly singles who hadn’t felt a man’s crotch since the Clinton administration.
Through playing wit cha’ll.
Happy Father’s Day to all the daddy’s of the world. I’d like to start by saying my father is legend to me. The absolute best compliment I’ve ever gotten is when someone says “you act/look like your father”. my father epitomizes a gentle heart and strengthened resolve. I can only hope to match that. My unyielding thirst for knowledge was passed down through him.
Some of you weren’t so lucky. Manhood is a tough thing. There are standards, boundaries, rules that apply. A lot of you missed them for whatever reason….here are the cliff notes.
- Respect is a reciprocal thing. In order to get it, it must be given. Only good things can happen within these boundaries. Step out of the circle of respect and chaos is sure to erupt in some form or fashion.
- No one is going to take care of you past a certain age. Everything your parents have been telling you thus far was to prep you for a solo run at life. I know you’ve seen the failures…you don’t want to go that route. 30 years old at home with momma? fail. Stop asking for handouts, their nest egg isn’t yours. The retirement money doesn’t belong to you, junior.
- Travel. Out of the state. Out of the country. It’ll broaden your small minded view on life all while learning cultures you never knew existed except for on tv. If you thought your prom queen was the hottest thing since old episodes of Baywatch, you’re an idiot. Women vary by region, state, and country with different mindsets than your high school sweetheart “Peggy Sue”. If you are still single, relocate. you’ll be mildly surprised at the difference in the attitudes of women of other area codes.
- Invest. Remember “he who has the most toys wins”? Well, those toys cost. A lot. Mutual funds, CD’s, Stocks (get a financial planner early kid).
- Your Word. If it comes out of your mouth, then DO IT. Mean it and never go back on it. People will respect you on your word alone in some cases. Don’t be a lying little weasel that deserves to be kicked in the balls. Hmm…maybe I could start a trend, kick all liars in the ball sack. Wait no, we’d have to castrate ALL politicians and government officials…I digress, where was i?
- Babies. This is a no brainer. Keep your dick in your pants or use a condom if you aren’t ready to be a daddy. How do you know you aren’t ready to be a daddy you ask? If you can’t support yourself. meaning: If you can’t provide your OWN shelter, food or clothing, what makes you think you can care for an infant whose solely dependent upon you for continuing to live? Babies require sacrifice of your livelihood. Sending the baby to grandma for days on end is shirking YOUR responsibility scum bag.
- Never raise your hand to a woman. If you lucked up and got an psycho aggressive bi-polar crazy chick, therapy IS NOT going to help. Run away from that relationship like someone just fired a starter pistol. If you just like hitting women because it makes you feel strong, come see me. I’ll message you my address and we can determine just how strong you are…prick.
- Public drunkenness is not cool. You look like an idiot because you are an idiot. Maintain your dignity. Women like dignity.
- A woman is going to leave you or cheat on you if your sex game isn’t up to par. Oh..she’ll wait it out a bit to see if there’s any improvement, but rest assured, she’ll be on the clock for some quality dizznik. Don’t be one of those guys we laugh at behind your back. Because there’s another thing: she will tell just how bad you are. it’s a damn shame. But it’s true. Yeah, she might not tell the world, but she’s got at least one confidant that knows you ain’t shit. Elevate your game or the only thing you’ll be riding is the bench.
- So…you got yourself together. Career’s going, got nice man toys, got a great lady and baby makes three. congratulations, it ain’t over. The knowledge, the hard work, the perseverance now needs to be poured into your child. If you allow someone else to teach your child about life, you tripped up right at the finish line. If your child is a failure it’s because YOU failed that child. no one else. Prepare your son or daughter to sidestep all of the hardships and struggles that you went through. make it easier for them. After all, they are your legacy. Teach them everything, but place a timeline on that gift of knowledge. Too many times have I seen parents rearing their preteen kids for some adult type circumstance while the kid is more interested in his/her robots or dolls. Puberty, adolescence, adulthood have their place and are fundamental for a child’s psyche. don’t ruin that.
If you were lucky enough to have been blessed with a father to teach you some of these things, then by all means call him up today and say thank you for making me a better individual. But the truth is, he’s knows it already and is extremely proud of your accomplishments thus far.
I feel you Aretha. Without respect, a man isn’t one. Lack of it will always lead to a disastrous conclusion. Me? I’d take respect over fame and money anything day of the week.
So. What exactly is the correct path to follow when there’s a personal affront to your manhood? Wisdom dictates removing yourself from said situation. Easy if the assailant is a complete stranger, not so easy if you’ve known the individual for awhile and their viewpoint of you has changed for whatever reason. A little tougher if it’s a long time friend or family member.
Yeah, you can communicate and talk about it, but since no one’s budging, you’re back to square one. This is why brothers don’t speak to one another for 15 years a pop, or cousins only visit every other holiday. It also affects marital bliss.
So what do you do, when you are bred with a ceiling-less pride and taught to be respectful and expect it always? When the nuclear arms talk fail utterly, and war is imminent…what do you do?
It comes down to our primal responses: Fight or Flight. I’m not speaking a “physical” fight (not this time). But a fight aimed at getting the respect you deserve. Or do you take a hit to your manhood, the very core structure of who you are, and concede?
……and I ain’t about to write a damn song asking for it either.
It’s hard enough to deal with hidden agendas and the proverbial knife in the back, but when you’re forced to endure the “crabs in the barrel” attitude from your own people, it really stops you in your tracks and makes you take a hard look at society, culture and regional environments.
The Mason-Dixon line isn’t the only line drawn that some southerners secretly take pride in. Economic status, has always been a line that separates us, not only from a financial standpoint but a social one as well. When you successfully make that jump into the next tax bracket, you leave behind a few scratching heads wondering “how’d he do that?” That wonderment (also known as ignorance) turns to resentment. The end result? You now have a hater on your hands.
*Hater ~ from the urban dictionary perspective: a person who cannot abide another person’s success. Instead of being congratulatory, they make it point of exposing the person’s flaws. The thought process isn’t outright hate, it’s the desire to take that person down a peg or two in the eyes of mutual peers. Mostly to distract those peers from the hater’s own inabilities, flaws and other idiosyncrasies.
Now, let’s add some water to that grease fire shall we? Break a few racial stereotypes, think outside of the box, or just blaze your own trail in way NOT typically known to be done by your ethnicity group and watch what happens.
As a black person, go rock climbing, or as a white person, become a rapper. White muslim? Jewish AND indigent? Depending on where you are regionally, you’ll be known as “selling out”, or acting something that you’re not. People are creatures of habit like that. Sad, but undeniably true.
Change upsets conformity.
When they see “different” then something must be wrong. Are we really hard wired like that?
My friend Anthony is a cyclist. He’s pretty good. But because cycling isn’t seen as a “black” sport, he’s operating outside of the known stereotype, and now he’s taking heat from his peers, accusing him of being something he’s not. really? Small minded people should just quit breeding. Ignorance begets ignorance.
While visiting family back home, I ran into a childhood friend. After reminiscing a bit, he pulls me to the side and asks, ” Hey dawg, so how long were you locked up for?’ See… for this jackass, military training and 15 years of bodybuilding equate working out in the penitentiary recreation room.
This is a very large world we live in. Get off your close-minded, prejudiced, one tracked, “I eat the same thing for breakfast everyday”, asses and experience something new. Talk to someone different. Walk another route. Go visit another country. Stop wallowing in your own ignorance and for God’s sake stop educating yourself via reality TV and Fox News (can people really not see their agenda?!)
FYI, we have some of the dumbest kids on the planets. Thanks failed parents! Let’s have more Honey Boo Boo’s and Plaxico Buress’s in the world. Yeah, I went there and no that ISN’T stereotyping. that’s a fact. Shanghai, Singapore and Hong Kong are making our kids look stupid. Literally. Google it. Nevermind. Here I’ll do it for you: http://www.cnbc.com/id/101240945
through playing with y’all…..damn.
Any other day, I’d bypass this subject and wouldn’t think twice about it. I’m sitting at home sick as a dog, channel surfing. I see the Tyra Banks Show (re-runs obviously) about women loving men with big bellies. And then the subject was broached on Facebook. So I have to ask ladies…REALLY?
Because I heard a lot of lies. lies. lies. Maybe it was to save face, or maybe it was the fact that they no longer consider their lover’s body part of the equation of love. Maybe it’s all about the dollars and to hell with the body. I don’t know, I’m just trying to gain a little perspective.
See…I know without a shadow of doubt that some women don’t like skinny guys. I used to be just that. Being skinny as a rail, trying to talk to a dimepiece is a futile attempt no matter what your charming smile or winning looks have done for you in the past. Some women don’t roll that way. They want a physical man who can handle himself and be able to bring food to the table. I get that.
But beer bellies? I’m heavily into the gym/fitness thing and I am a pretty sizable guy. At 42 years old, 232lbs, I still have no gut. Am I to believe, I’d lose out to the fat guy at the end of the bar with a bucket of Natural Light beer? To quote the fictional senator Clay Davis from HBO’s the Wire, “shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”
Muscle>Fat everyday, all day.
Guys, PLEASE do not fall into this sitcom reality TV show/facebook tomfoolery. Get your asses in the gym. Nevermind what women think….ok scratch that(what was I thinking), consider your own health for a minute. Abdominal obesity can kill you (indirectly). Not to mention affecting the lead in your “pencil”. It’s a sure sign that your estrogen levels are rising. And I’m hoping I don’t have to break THAT one down to you.
Our abs are quite useful. When you find them again, you can email me and thank me for getting rid of your back pain and improving you sex life. Abs act as a stabilizer for your torso and a gyroscope for your….hell, if you didn’t know all this time, you might be outta luck on the latter.
Ladies (just the ones that like big men), tell your man the truth, yes you want a big man for the comfort and joys of life. One that can also handle himself and protect you. A guy that can be that “blanket” you want. You don’t want a guy who runs around making jokes about his “tool shed”. Encourage your big man to go walking, ease him into the cardio. Before you know it, he’ll be able to “see” himself again and won’t have to reach blindly for it.
Am I too harsh? Probably. Am I an insensitive ass? Definitely. Listen I know there are conditions which prevent some men from exercising and/or eating right. To those guys, I’m sorry…this isn’t meant for your eyes. I’m strictly referring to those 30-40 somethings who are fully ambulatory yet down kegs of beer at happy hour, talking about “yeah I’m gonna start working out again”. Meanwhile their wives and girlfriends are on the Tyra Banks Show talking about, “Tyra, my big bellied man is putting it down”.
He’s coming back to the game. And as much as his peers will hate it, they will also welcome him back with open arms. All while making snide comments behind his back. No, it isn’t Brett Favre and it sure as hell ain’t Jordan. It’s Eldrick. And before you get your panties in a bunch asking who Eldrick is, I’ll tell you.
Eldrick Tont Woods…affectionately (and intimately) known as Tiger. Now, there is absolutely nothing about Tiger Woods that I could expound upon that the media hasn’t already filleted and gutted a million times already, except for one thing. Why he got caught. (no, not why he did it, why he got caught).
Tiger Woods is an island unto himself. That kinda makes it hard to do dirt when you’re visible from the weather channel’s satellites. Secondly, he went against the grain of every celeb/athlete’s mantra. He had no Entourage.
Entourage (read: boys who you pay and trust to do YOUR dirt and take the fall). These people are made up of people you know before the fame and fortune and when the shit hits the fan, will gladly scoop it up.
Celebs with entourages usually have a bad image of boozing party hounds, so Tiger refrained from having one, not realizing their true purpose. Damn, hindsight’s a bitch ain’t it?
But let me make myself really really clear. In no way do I condone Mr. Woods infidelities. He was stupid and got caught with his hands, feet and who knows what else in the cookie jar. Apparently, he thought he was a college frat boy. I remember my college days, (barely). I felt unstoppable. I vaguely remember my mother mentioning something about me burning out before I turned 25 (guess what mom, it was sooner…).
I didn’t have an entourage but I had friends I trusted impeccably. Question is, who does Tiger trust? It’s kinda funny though, because real tigers hunt solo, at night and ambush their prey. The two legged tigers we know use Patron Margaritas….or cereal.
If only he had one good friend to say “I don’t think its a good idea, let’s go” We wouldn’t be reading about all this nonsense now. But you know what, it’s not all his fault.
Let’s back up a sec. So the wifey had no idea? She was clueless? Yeah right, whatever. If the handwriting is on the wall, you just don’t apply a fresh coat of paint. Let’s not forget this has been going on for years, and she just now decided to bash his head in? A one eyed man with a cataract could see she didn’t care what Tiger did UNTIL it was about to become public knowledge.
So why are people so hellbent on what Tiger is or isn’t doing? Americans (some of us) are boring, mundane hum drum people who live their lives vicariously through someone else. Everyone wants to shake up their lives and do something wild and off the cuff but is afraid to. That’s why Vegas is so popular. What? you thought it was because of the casinos? Kill yourself now and help the census.
People like to commune socially. That’s why everyone is in everyone else’s business and personal affairs. And when celebrities and/or an athlete’s business come to light…oh boy, the fireworks fly. Tiger’s affairs were, socially speaking “a multiple orgasm” for the media and it’s endearing public.
The man liked to get his multicultural penis wet. He’s also given billions in charity benefiting children. Does this make it right? Hell no it doesn’t. Not at all. But tell me…what has your trifling baby’s daddy contributed other than his seed?
Stop casting stones. Welcome back Tiger.
In less than 12 hours I’ll age another year, and yet I am completely unfazed. All the rhetoric surrounding birthdays is designed to do what exactly? The cakes, the parties, the sheer drunkeness (if that’s your kind of thing) is supposed to be a celebration of life? Or…is all the fanfare and festivities just a mere distraction from what you should be doing. Self evaluation. a gut check. I like to think of birthdays as milestone markers where I take out my compass and see what direction in life I’m headed in.
My friends think that I become a somber cynical rattlesnake the days surrounding my birthday. The truth… my eyes are wide open to everything. In my deepest moments of self reflection, I see things from an “outside looking in” standpoint where I become super critical of myself and the world as I see it. All the facades, all the bs we normally take on the chin, all the societal dances that we do, all fade away for me during this time. I gotta tell you, it’s all funny as hell. Straight up comic relief. I can’t help but to laugh at the lengths we go through. Why? to get a job? to get a date? to get the respect you deserve? to be someone else’s idea of a “good” person? Every year, I take a step away from the “norm”. And when I look back, I say to myself, “what the hell was I thinking?!”
Man, why couldn’t I have had this mentality 20 years ago? We all say it, Hindsight is 20/20. I’ve actually come to realize that wouldn’t have been a good move for me. I know now that it was, and still is the journey not the destination, that’s where all the fun stuff happens. The path lesser walked. Google maps ain’t gonna get me there.
This upcoming year I’m going off-road. See ya in 2010.
PS. Shout outs to the drunken Christmas carolers of Middleburg, Florida. FYI, ghetto rednecks, booze and a tortured version of “Silent Night” is not a good look. lmfao. WHO FRIGGIN CAROLS THESE DAYS?!? I should add…with sincerity. I still love you guys tho…
You know that friend of yours that talks REALLY loud?
So loud in fact, that you have to remove the phone from your ear, or back pedal away from them to avoid the spittle? It’s not their fault. It is however, their coping mechanism. The majority of them are extroverts. Outgoing, bright, optimistic, sunny people who want to brighten your day(and move the spotlight from all the skeletons in their closets).
Go ahead, just try to get a word in edgewise on these boisterous bubbly braggadocios blow hards (say that 4 times fast) and watch how their volume increases incrementally to over talk you. A normal conversation is now a shouting match. Your friend will then pull out a megaphone to finish his/her statement FTW (for the win).
As soon as I recognize the signs (the ability to hold 3 conversations at once and lead them all), I prepare myself for bouts of silence.
That’s right, the nemesis to these amplified vocal beings…the anti-talker. If I’m interrupted more than twice in a conversation, I shut up. Obviously that individual isn’t interested in a meaningful conversation and one of my major pet peeves is having to repeat myself. Being forced to repeat myself makes me want to cripple people. (update: I’m no longer crippling people, the treatments work!) Once you stop talking, they realize their mistake however briefly. But like a broken radio knob, they return to full volume in no time at all.
There are SOME advantages to having a loud talker around.
Planning an event? Just remember it’s good to have at least two or more loud talkers at a party or function. Ensure there is an even number of them and your party will be a success as they cancel each other out simultaneously livening up the scene.
This can sometimes backfire however, creating another insidious loud talker: the alcohol induced loud talker.
Oh yeah… now you have to contend with breath, spittle and at times become a leaning post. Because drunks wobble. There is nothing you can do but shred the napkin (aka the coaster) that your drink is sitting on and stuff it in your ears to protect your ear drums. A face shield would be nice, but it’s not too aesthetic in social settings.
Remedy: Introduce him or her to the person next to you and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Works like a charm, trust me. Let them slobber and shout all over that person.
I’m really trying hard to be as unbiased as I possibly can when I say this: Ladies…desperation is not a good look. I should probably elaborate a bit more, “being desperate in getting a man” is not a good look. Yeah, I know there are guys who are just as desperate, but I’m not one of them and I’ll be damned if I hang around those losers, so I ain’t writing about them…yet.
I can smell it you know. No, not that Dolce & Gabanna you’re wearing or it’s Avon equivalent, the desperation. Seeping outta your pores like next day tequila. That 4th quarter hurry up offense to score…A woman’s game clock, it’s a shame there’s no overtime…. Ovaries, apparently are like time bombs. You gotta use em before they explode. Huh, who knew?
Whenever I’m out socially, I get that look. You know the look I’m referring to: that extra linger-look away-then look again-smile look. It’s THAT look men love to get. It brings back that untainted school boy in all of us. That “yeah, I’m the sh*t” feeling.
However, It’s the wild eyed, “I haven’t had any sleep because I can hear my Fallopian tubes cracking” that scares the bejesus out of men.
I had a T-Pain experience at Chili’s the other day. Hanging with the guys, killing the 2 for 1 all night drinks specials when the bartender says “a lady is buying you a drink”. Cool, I turn down nothing but my collar…
It happened in slow motion (at least for me it was). I saw the approach, I saw the smile, I saw the switch in her hips that screamed “I’M FERTILE, I NEED A MAN, I NEED BABIES”. Then I saw the look of disgust when she caught the light’s reflection from my tungsten carbide diamond wedding band. It was like someone had messed up her $85 dollar perm. She wasn’t even cordial when I offered to return the favor. Maybe it was the walk of shame back to her table or the giggling schoolboys that my friends turned into.
Most of all, I’m sure it was the disappointment. I felt bad for her in a sense. She looked weathered/tired in the dating game. You know how desert travelers see mirages and get that burst of excitement and energy only to find out it’s nothing there? Yeah, like that.
What can you do? As long as we have the genetically encoded primal need to procreate there will always be trials in finding a mate. That goes for both men and women, but its just funnier to me when women have to do “the walk of shame”. Divine retribution? maybe.
Okay…somebody’s gotta say something to these guys. We all know one or know someone who knows one: the strip club regular.
Day in, day out, he’s always there. Every damned day,under the guise of “it’s happy hour” let’s go get some drinks. And just when your headed to your favorite pub or 2 for 1 spot, he pulls this “hey, they have great drink specials at “bigbootysRus”.
Now, I know you’re saying, “D, there’s nothing wrong with that, drinks are drinks right?” WRONG! Like my CSI marathon watching cousin (sup fred), I see the pattern developing.
You get that phone call around lunchtime while you’re diligently murdering that excel spreadsheet that was due two days ago.
“Hey lets grab some lunch,”
“Aight, cool. Where?”
“At Titties depot, they have great burgers”
“dude. WTF? burgers and titties? seriously?”
I’ve figured it out. finally. Men who can’t tear themselves away from “pole architects” have deep insecurities, and/or relationship drama that cause them to run to “thong therapy”. Most women hate listening/talking to men whose confidence levels are feeble at best. So the regulars turn to those who will listen. And dancers…much like bartenders will listen as long as you’re tipping.
That, or as Chris Rock puts it, “they love titties and tater tots.
So…If you know a regular (I know you do). Divert his attention. compliment him. Boost his confidence. Set him up on a real date with your girl’s friend or sister…something. Real world dating and/or interaction is scary for them. Gradually ease them into it.
Their eyes have to adjust, champagne room to sunlight can be painful, afterall.