Why I Can’t Trust A Woman Who Doesn’t Own Toys

This is one of those posts that I have to tell my mom not to read, and my sister, and any other members of my family. So please, uncles, aunts, grandparents, sis, cousins, if you’ve gotten this far, go to another window please? Please?

As for the rest of you, who aren’t my family, this is a post I’ve wanted to write since the weekend, but been hesitant to do so. The reason: it’s basically something only I would come up with. Well, not only I, most other men might feel a similar way. Matter of fact, when I called up a couple of my boys to bounce the idea off of them, they understood my logic completely. A couple of my female friends also said the thought, though fairly typical of the mind of a man, wasn’t the most absurd thing they’ve ever heard.

So now I’m comfortable enough to break down why I don’t trust women who don’t own toys, and when I say toys, I mean the type only allowed for women 18 and older.

Now, I can’t say a woman who owns toys and my inability to trust her has always been a theory of mine, largely because I’ve never been one to think about whether a woman does or does not one. I just assume most women do. . Remember when I talked about the “your-d*ck-can’t-do-this-2000″? Here’s a reminder. What I basically said back then is it’s all good to own a couple of toys, even the “Terminator 2″ type of toys, but we needn’t bring them out all the time. Some of those things can be, ummm, imposing.

But what boggles my mind is the women who don’t own one at all. Like, seriously. Grown women, who are single (I would consider those who are in a relationship, but I’m not really talking about them today), what gives, because I’m judging.

Men, all men, except liars and virgins, will admit they’re big into self love, but unlike women, we don’t need those prosthetic doohickey thing-a-ma-jigs. Some quality internet, maybe some lotion, a box of tissues, and we’re good. Women, on the other hand, are not so nice with their hands from what I’ve heard. They need something a little bit more, so what’s up with the women aren’t shelling out however much it costs to get that “more” I speak of.

A woman can’t tell me she enjoys getting it in as much as a man does then turn around and tell me she doesn’t own toys. How am I supposed to believe her? Her credibility is shot, because here’s the first thing I think she’s lying about: This idea that she actually enjoys getting it in as much as she says she does. A woman who says she’s a freak but has no aid is like a person telling me they’re prepared for a fire in their apartment, but they don’t own an extinguisher.

I enjoy getting it in as much as I say I do, but sometimes I can’t do that with a woman, which is why I have a pretty damn good Internet signal in my home! That’s how you know I’m telling the truth. But this girl is telling me she loves to get it in and she has nothing there for her to help her when she goes to bed alone at night? Then obviously she doesn’t, right? I mean, what can she possibly know about herself if she hasn’t explored herself? I understand toys are used for fantasy, and from what women tell me, they’re nothing like reality, but I still believe a woman who owns a toy knows a little bit about what she likes than a woman who doesn’t own one.

Here’s what else I believe about women who own toys:

Those women are self-sufficient, capable of getting theirs without the aid of a man. As for the woman who brags about her mythical man-like sex drive but doesn’t own something that can help in her time of need, well I’m just going to assume it’s because she never has a time of need a man can’t demand.

In other words, she’s getting so much of the real thing, the need for a toy is practically obsolete. Now for a woman who is in a relationship, hey, this makes perfect sense. I’ve saved more than a few women some money on the cost of batteries, so I understand. But the women who are single, talking about they need it five times a week, and they don’t own someting that can help them out? Man, I don’t even want to look at their Recent Calls log.

I know both these theories are probably ridiculous, and maybe even slightly offensive, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I really hope what I  just wrote empowers the woman hesitant to make an investment into some sort of pleasure aid. Specifically the single woman out there,  longing for, ummm, that release. Men like me find women who own these things perfectly normal and healthy. I’m cool with it. Just try to avoid buying one of those, “your-d*ck-can’t-do-this-2000″‘s.

Her Dream Man Is Standing Near Me, But I’m The One Talking

I know a man, he’s a friend of mine. By any measure we want to use, he is a good man. If we measure the quality of a man by education, he has that in spades. If we measure the quality of a man by physical attractiveness, I have no opinion of him, but as a couple of my ex-girlfriends have said to me, “He’s a good looking guy.” If we want to measure the quality of a man by his career, he has a stable job that involves helping others. If we want to measure the quality of a man by the good that is in his heart, well, he’s one of my best friends for a reason; as a matter of fact, if my sister were single and I had to choose one friend to match her up with, it would be this man. If we want to measure the quality of a man by his relationships with other women, he’s never cheated and never had a one night stand. If we want to measure the quality of man by his willingness to settle down and have a family, he has spoken to me countless times about how he’s ready for that phase in his life.

Did I mention he is single? Yeah, that too.

So having said all that, are any of you ladies interested in meeting this man? Probably so, but unfortunately you won’t. Here’s why.

My friend I speak of is also one of the most reclusive people I know. He’s not socially awkward by any stretch of the imagination, but he is not sociable, if that makes any sense. There’s nothing about him I dislike, but his whole stay-inside-and-when-we-go-out-stand-against-the-wall approach to women really grinds my gears. I tell this brother all the time, “Dude, get up, get out, and get at these women if it’s a woman you want.” But he rarely listens.

In my man’s defense, there’s a lot of men out there just like him. Perfectly eligible bachelors ready to be taken home to meet some woman’s family are everywhere but where they need to be, and yet, women get frustrated with men like me.

To hear a woman tell it, all they’re meeting is men who aren’t ready to settle down, who are only after one thing. This is why they get tired of the club/lounge/bar scene. They don’t want to go to anymore parties because all that’s there are men who are more about one night then they are about one life. And you know what, they’re right.

As Grandmaster Flash once famously said, “It’s like a jungle sometimes.” That is what the social scene is in any city, in any state. It is a jungle, so why get upset when you come across men who are acting like lions, actively pursuing women like they are prey? Want to see us get poached? Call out the reinforcements, men like my boy I just described.

Sorry for the extended metaphor, back to reality…

Women constantly want to talk about where the best places are to meet some good men, but that’s the wrong way to strategize. First of all, are men are good, just in different ways. Secondly, men like me, the ones they’re not looking for, are everywhere. We’re at the club, we’re at church, we’re at the library, we’re at the bar. Ditto for the men who aren’t like me at all. They’re everywhere I am, though some spots less frequently than others. Essentially, nowhere is safe from men like me, and everywhere has some men like my boy.

The issue of where to look pales in comparison to the issue of whom to look for. Take the club for instance. When out at some club looking for a man with the most potential to settle down, start with the guys on the wall. These are the men who are looking for the same thing most women want, but for whatever reason, they’re too shy to speak up. I know that may not sound appealing, but this approach is not demonstrative of their character. In other words, they’re only standing against the wall because they’re not in their element, and we all act a little differently when out of our comfort zones.

For any woman who wants to complain about how all of this sounds like way too much work, you won’t hear an argument out of me. Females need to stop getting upset with guys like me who go out and get exactly what they want, just because what I want isn’t what they want. Instead, their frustration needs to be directed at men like my boy who are sitting at home waiting for women like them. Me, and guys like me, are proactive about getting what they want. The men who want to find women to hook up with go out and get them. Hell, some of them will even be bold enough to say, “I don’t want anything more than this one night.” But how many men out there who are ready to settle down take the same approach with finding a woman to settle down with? When is the last time a man has been bold enough to say to a woman, “I want more than this one night. I want as many nights as we live.”

The men I know who are married, most of them were built for it at a very young age. Recently, I sat down with four of my best friends from high school, two of whom are married. When I thought about our lives now versus the lives we lived in high school, I find it fascinating how much went unchanged. The men who are married are also the same friends who never really went to the high school dances, with the exception of prom. Those of us who aren’t married, practically went to every single dance the school offered. What this said to me is, ultimately, most men get it how they live from a very young age. The type of man who has girlfriend after girlfriend after girlfriend in high school will probably take years to grow out of such a pattern, whereas the man who only had one girlfriend in high school, will probably repeat that pattern with her or someone else in his years as an adult.

None of this is to say men who want to settle down don’t do as the men who don’t want to settle down. As I have suggested, men who want a woman for one night and men who want a woman for a lifetime can and do co-exist with one another. We hit the same spots together more often than anyone can imagine, it’s just once we get there we’re standing in two different areas. For any woman who wants a guy like me, you can find me on the dance floor in a woman sandwhich or chatting it up at the bar. All those ladies interested in men like my friend who is ready to find Mrs. Right, have you tried the wall yet? Happy hunting.

Dear Future Girlfriend, RE: Facebook Profile Pictures

Since I’m  in a relationship, there are things I want to write about but often can’t because, well, I’m not actually going through it. Anyone who’s followed this blog knows I place a premium on writing about things I’m either going through or have gone through.

But there are some things I want to write about even if I’m not going through them right at this moment. They’re certain issues or points of conversation I’m sure I will have with my girlfriend of the future. I don’t know what she looks like (well, maybe I do). I have no idea what she will bring to the table, and I definitely can’t predict the contentious points of our relationship. but I know at some point I will be in a relationship and at some point, certain things will come up.

What I want to start doing is getting in front of these issues now, before she even comes into my life. We can certainly talk about them at some point, but I do believe these letters I write to her will be a good starting point for the conversation.

So future girlfriend who I don’t know yet, I’m going to need you to read these letters carefully. They’re not all the answers to the test, but they’re definitely a helpful study guide.

Dear Future Girlfriend Whose Name I Don’t Know Yet,

RE: Facebook Profile Pictures

I once dated a girl who was seemingly perfect in every way. This was long before you came into my life. She was a bit of a nag, and kind of seemed like she was in a rush to get into a relationship, especially on Facebook, but outside of those two particular issues, she was awesome; a real gem.

But one day she crossed the line. She decided it would be cool to just post a picture the two of us took on her Facebook profile. and get this, she posted it as her profile picture! When I told her to take it down, she objected. I said she had to take it down, she had no choice. When she asked why, I said because I was through dating her and therefore the picture of us together was nothing more than a lie.

Yeah, I know, I used to be messed up back then.

Anyway, here was my issue with her posting up a picture of us on Facebook as her profile pic:

She was showing off.

She had a lot of friends, on Facbeook that is, and so I knew her profile pic was a carefully maintained vanity project. Shoot, I know mine is and I refuse to let myself be used for the purpose of showing off the fact that they’re in a relationship. If it sounds unreasonable, trust me it isn’t because if anyone knows the art of Facebook profile curating, it’s me.

A couple of years before the girl I just told you about, I was guilty of showing off my happiness to a bunch of people, via Facebook.com/jozenc. There was the vacation I went on with an ex-girlfriend of mine years ago. We went to Cancun, stayed in these plush accommodations, the whole nine. So of course we took a gaggle of pictures. Pictures in our swimsuits, pictures of us chilling together on the beach, eating breakfast, laying by the pool. The very next week, of course I wanted to see the pictures on Facebook, so we posted them up, leaving them on our profiles for the duration of our relationship.

Then there was the ex-girlfriend after her. For years I kept up a couple of pictures we took together on my Facebook profile. Even after we broke up.

But today, all those pictures are gone. What prompted their removal? Well, they say hindsight is 20/20, and when I think back to my motive for posting up those Facebook pictures, I realize all I really wanted to do was show off these pretty girls I was calling my girlfriend. That was it. These girls were the equivalent of a rapper’s platinum chain, and I was the rapper, guilty of lifting them up and holding them up so the whole world can see. In essence, I might as well have been putting my thumbs up to my ears, palms facing the camera, and sticking my tongue out. Posting up those pictures was my way of saying to the world, “Look what I got, suckers!”

Now I’m with you, and trust me when I say, you’re the prettiest woman I have ever dated. I would love to show you off, but can we just settle on posting up our relationship status instead of putting all these pictures of us posing for the cameras? It’s not like I’m hiding the relationship, it’s just, pictures mean a little bit more to me than they used to. Look at the pictures of me and my boys. A lot of those were taken years ago, back when we were into showing off our good times. But we’ve grown out of that, and I hope you have too.

Candids are cool. We can let other people take pictures of us dancing, laughing, hugging,maybe even kissing, but none of this business where we ask one of our friends or complete strangers if they can take a picture of us with some scenic view in the background. I mean, those are okay too, but let’s not post them on Facebook. Instead, let’s frame them up and put them at our desk at work or on the shelves in our apartments. Let’s use them as our wallpaper on our phone. Hell, let’s even use them as each other’s caller ID photo. But outsourcing them to the rest of the world to our Facebook friends, the majority of whom we don’t know? Come on, girl. Let’s not and say we did.

Like I said, I’m not trying to hide what we have, I just want what we have to be what wehave, not what everyone else has on their time lines. Besides, look at the photos of your friends who do post their couple pics all the time. Doesn’t that look corny to you?

I promise you, baby; when we get married, I won’t even hesitate to post up the wedding pics. We’re probably going to hire an expensive photographer to take the pictures, so we might as well. But until that day comes, let’s keep most of the pictures we take to ourselves and our real friends.

Your Man,

obed

He’s Only Interested In One Thing Because She’s Not That Interesting

That’s it.

Women need to come up with a new line.

This whole “He’s only interested in one thing” line is old news.

I’ve been hearing it way too much and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only man. The fact is — and I said this on Twitter yesterday — some men are interested in only one thing because the woman is not that interesting.

Have we ever thought of such a thing?

Seriously.

Think about it.

More than one way to skin a cat. More than one way to get a man, like, try being interesting beyond the bedroom.

These women out here talking about, “He’s only interested in one thing.”

He got that one thing.

He’s out.

Shrug shoulders. Let it slide.

But why aren’t you a little bit bothered, a little introspective. Think all women who get chose are not interesting, on some vanilla with no syrup stuff? Wrong. They got chose because they were next level interesting. And yeah, that’s relative — we like what we like and that changes from man to man — but I’ve seen women attract flocks.

Want to know? They had the interesting syrup dripping from their pores.

I met women who I only wanted to sleep with, only to end up falling for them because they talked about themselves in a way I found — what’s the word I’m looking for? — oh yeah, interesting.

I mean, sure, maybe he has another woman.

Maybe the s*x was bad.

Maybe he doesn’t live in the same town and was only looking for a fling before he went back.

But it could also maybe. Possibly. Sort of. Kind of. Theoretically. Be. You. Yes, you my lady, are not that interesting.

POSSIBLY!

I don’t know. Just a theory.

So ladies, want to try some humble pie? My brothers and I have been eating it for years and it tastes like facts we have to face; facts like we’re not God’s gift just because we don’t put our hands on a woman.

Ladies, bring something more to the table than a resume filled with things you did that have nothing to do with keeping a man happy.  Expect me to be engaged because of a mortgage. Mortgage my interest.

Make a man laugh. Make a man think. Make a man speak.

Every time a man doesn’t get the woman he wants he wonders what was he missing. What could he have done to get the girl who turned him down? Then he applies it to the next woman. Men evolve.

I think I said it before, but in case I have, we should all hear it again. I think women mature faster than men, but I also think women stop maturing before men.

These women think if a man didn’t want them, something was  wrong with him. He just didn’t see how interesting she was.

But what if he did see it?

There just wasn’t much there, there.

No more biting my tongue. Holding back for the sake of a woman’s feelings is over. The best way to eliminate the women I don’t want anymore, ignore them. Treat them like they treat the guys they don’t want. They’re not interested in him, so they act the part by not returning phone calls, text messages, and giving dry, one-word answers via chat.

I’m going to start doing the same.

Women understand: S*x may be on top of a man’s list of priorities, but it for d*mn sure isn’t the whole list.

We have a list of things we want in a woman too. Some of us want a woman who can cook. Some of us want a woman who knows how to look good. Some of us want a woman who hits the gym. But all of us want a woman who is interesting.

That’s the item on the list with stars by it.

Funny how I get all these questions from women asking me what constitutes “bad s*x”, but never get any questions as to how they can be more interesting to a man. “When a man who I find attractive approaches me, what kind of things can I do to keep him locked into the conversation?”

Why I ain’t ever heard a woman ask me that question?

Then again, maybe it’s better I don’t get that question.

I wouldn’t know the answer.

Act Like It, Dude*

Dude, stop.

The girl is fwine, man.

No typo.

That’s wine with an eff in front of it.

Not fine.

That means not sick.

This girl is sick.

Fwine.

So why we acting, like she isn’t?

Just going to stand there with a dime on your arm.

Looking like you got change to spare.

Not smiling.

Acting like she’s cool.

She don’t need no public displays of affection.

She ain’t even into that anyway.

Yeah, okay.

Better hold her hand, dude.

Do something, dude.

Before she start acting like she ain’t into that with some other dude.

Hold her damn hand, man.

Better yet.

Do more.

Kiss her.

Not to sound like Sebastian from The Little Mermaid.

Kiss the girl.

Whoa.

Whoa.

She’s yours ain’t she?

Kiss her then.

It ain’t like I’m saying, F*ck her.

F*ck her in private.

Kiss her in public.

On street corners.

Subway platforms.

And movie theater lines.

Do it old school.

Straight sixth-grade-just-started-getting-tongue-action age.

Especially when the girl looks like yours.

Especially when she’s looking at me the way she is right now.

Right behind your back.

Jack.

Still using excuses like you were never raised in a house where affection was shown.

You also were raised in a house where no one had a college degree.

Now look at you?

You have a degree.

And a fine a** woman.

A little tip I learned after college.

After we graduate, we get the job.

But it still takes work to keep the girl.

Some real work.

No half-steppin.

Half-reppin.

Go all the way in these streets.

Put in that work, dude.

Kiss the girl.

Hold her hand.

Wrap your arms around her.

Man.

Do something with her.

Let everybody see it.

Pay no attention to any of the hate.

You have love.

Act like it, dude.

Lessons From The Lady Friends

Yesterday, I took one of my friend’s out to lunch for her birthday. She invited me to her birthday party this weekend, and I flaked so I wanted to make it up to her. When we sat down, she jokingly asked me what this was about, suggesting I was trying to make myself over. I had to explain it wasn’t about some larger life mission to be a better friend to everybody. She had been such a good friend to me, so I didn’t want to let her birthday pass without acknowledging it and doing something nice for her. It was my way of saying Happy Grown Woman Day and thanks.

When we said bye to each other, I must say I felt good about what I did even if it was something I was supposed to do. Because let’s face it, when it comes to what we are supposed to do, sometimes we have no clue. I know I certainly don’t know what I’m supposed to do all the time, but I’m learning, and what’s cool about the process is I can learn with women in my life who I call friends first.

I understand most women don’t trust a man who says he just wants to be friends. We call it the back door approach. So even when we’re talking about friendship, one usually assumes ulterior motives are at play. She thinks so, I know so, and so there’s really no way of getting around the stigma.

But one thing I am trying to do in my quest for genuine friendships with women is learning more about myself in relation to the women in my life. We already know the way a man treats the women in his family isn’t an entirely accurate reflection of how he treats the women outside of his family. But if I had a couple more women in my life who I can hold down the way they hold me down, I think I’ll get something I never got when I was in relationship.

Confidence.

I’m not talking about self-confidence. I understand it’s like Katt Williams said, self-confidence is confidence of “yo m*therf*ckin* self”. And on my own two, no matter what the women of my past have told me, I’m a man and a good one at that. But when it comes to being a boyfriend, when it comes to being a man to a woman and knowing what I’m supposed to do, I don’t think there’s no greater teacher than being a good friend to a girl.

To be clear, I don’t think a woman has all the answers to another woman’s problems. Just because two people share the same type of anatomy doesn’t mean they share the same heart and mind. But, what I do need to know about myself is that I can actually be good to a woman in a real way because when I look back on the failure of all my relationships, there’s so many things I see that just broke down my confidence to be that guy.

I have written about this before; women who stay with a man only to tear down his pride, so by the time he’s single again, he no longer believes he has the good for a relationship. Women are constantly telling a man who messes up their not ready to be in a relationship at all, when sometimes, they’re just not ready to be with her.

The reason I bring this up is because it justifies the need for a man to have closer platonic ties to a woman. If I listened to all the things my ex-girlfriends said about me in the past and let their feelings towards me affect the perception I had of myself, I would check myself into sex rehab like Tiger Woods and be in church every single day of the week.

But the women who are my friends have a more balanced perception of me. They never fail to call me crazy or a plumb fool when I act like one. If I want them to facilitate a situation with one of their other friends, they’ll make sure I don’t act like the man all my ex-girlfriends broke up with. One of my good friends won’t even introduce me to a girl who she knows wants to meet me. I jokingly call her a hater, but I also know she’s helping me avoid a situation with a person I’m probably not ready to deal with and I appreciate her for noticing that. I also appreciate how the same women who can say I’m up to no good still recognize the good in me. This is why those female friendships are invaluable because only a woman who is a good friend will forgive me when I’m acting an idiot and give me props when I’m being all brilliant and stuff.

The way I see it, all I need to know about being a good man to a woman I can learn in being a good man to a lot of women on a platonic level. I know I’m a good brother. I know I’m a good son and grandson. I know I’m a loyal boy to my boys. But the one thing I’ve only done a C+ job at best at is being a good friend towards women and being a good boyfriend, and I don’t think the reasons for one are entirely different than the reasons for other. It’s like, how can one be good at algebra if they’re not good at long division?

I know one thing’s for certain. If I can be a good friend to a woman, if I can be there when she needs me, and hold her down the way she holds me down, if I can make her laugh like I make my boys laugh and learn to give to her without asking for anything in return, if I can learn to do what I’m supposed to do, and it becomes second nature to me, I’ll be ready to be with a woman the way I’m supposed to be.

It All Happened Without You

This isn’t about you. Not you either. This is about all of yous. The girls with whom I once shared my dreams and now are no longer around to see them come true.

As I think about what’s next, and I stay true to the belief that whatever it is it’s going to be great, I think about all of you who knew me then. You girls who let me tell them about my moves and my goals, but for whatever reason, aren’t around to see such things happen. I couldn’t have done it without you, but in a weird way I did.

My mom once told me to find a woman to build a life with and when she said it to me, it was more like a warning, less like a lesson. “If you do it on your own, you’re not going to want to share it as much,” she said. “You may mean to, but trust me, you’ll be selfish even if you don’t intend to be.”

Well, here I am today, working hard to accomplish the things I want most in life without one consistent person in it. My mom’s words still ring loudly in my ears, but just because she said so, doesn’t mean I bring a woman into my life while I make my next move. I could never use a woman in such a way.

What I can do though is recognize you who was once around when some very good things happened to me. I can remember you who held me down while I was interviewing for a job that at the time was the biggest deal in the world. I can remember you who I woke up the day GQ asked me to do the same. I can remember all of you who were there to witness these little moments of my personal history unfolding, and I can remember how intimate those moments were.

When I shared the news with you, I didn’t feel the need to share it with anyone else afterward, except for maybe Facebook, but you know, that’s not a real person. You were the only one I cared to tell, and the rest would have to call me if they wanted to hear the good news.

These days when I get some good news, it’s a little different. It’s not so much the loneliness that strikes me, nor is it an empty feeling. I have a great number of people who root for me every single day, but for some reason I also always think about you who is not here.

Maybe you were there  in the beginning when I first let you into this plan I had to succeed, but eventually it all happened without you, and I would love to share it with you, but I don’t think it would impress you. One of the great ironies in life is being with someone who has always believed in you. When you achieve all that you set out to and you tell them, they’re almost never surprised. Your good news doesn’t impress so much as it reaffirms what it is they already know.

But we both know I’ll probably tell you anyway. Even though you’re no longer around to see me make my next move, you deserve to know about it, especially (especially) if it’s a good one.

It’s odd to say this, but when you were around for the hard the times  — losing my job; losing my biological father; being hospitalized — the comfort of your presence never compared to when you around for the good times. Maybe it’s the man in me, but hard times always seem to be easiest to go through by myself.

I remember being all alone when I received the news one of my best friends, Trey, was killed in a car accident. I remember how I was relieved to receive the news alone in my apartment, that way I could allow myself just one good cry without the feeling of someone watching me get it all out. And I compare that feeling to the one I had when my sister called to tell me I would be an uncle. I was also alone then, and I felt so, just so lost. Of course I was through the roof with excitement, but have you ever been the only witness to something unbelievable? It’s like the feeling you get when you make a basket from 3/4 of the court with your eyes closed and no one is there to bear witness. The first thing you’re thinking is, Damn that was awesome and you’re running around with your arms held high. Then the “aw shucks” moment comes when you realize you’re only jumping into the arms of the air, and no one was around to witness your incredible shot.

Sharing bad news is intimate, but so is sharing good news.  I love that you held me down whenever times were hard, but I definitely missed you when the times were good.

Respecting The Women Who Just Want To Get Laid

I never understand why women tell a man they never did something they just did with him. When are they going to realize he never believes her when she says that, and more importantly, he never really cared if she did in the first place?

Sometimes I feel like females empower themselves not by demanding to be treated like the fairer sex that we all recognize they are, but rather, by just not being treated like or looked upon as some sort of h*e. They like to say things like, “I’m not like those other girls.” Thus tearing down “those other girls” just so they can look better or be treated a certain way. But here’s the thing about “those other girls”, they’re talking to another man and saying the exact same thing. Apparently, they’re not like those other girls either.

Women may start maturing faster than men, but some days I swear they also stop maturing faster than men. They have this image of a man sitting in some strip club, throwing money at a woman who is willing to get naked all in the name of paying rent, and all women care about is making sure a man doesn’t treat her like that girl.

Call me ridiculous, but I cannot stress to women enough how much I, and other men, do not hold it against a woman who just wants to get laid. I feel like I’ve said this before and yet I constantly talk to women who say they’re not like that because women like that never get a man.

Shut up.

You know what type of women never get a man? Virgins and women who act like virgins.

No disrespect to virgins. I don’t mean to knock them down, but I’m for damn sure not about to put them on a pedestal higher than non-virgins. Does anyone ever notice how women who say something like, “I just need to get laid” usually follow that phrase up with this phrase: “I’m a grown woman.”

Only grown women are comfortable with the idea of casual sex (and only grown women understand the importance of protecting themselves when they do). The fact of the matter is — and this is something I really want everyone to understand — most men already assume a woman has done things like have a one night stand, slept with someone on the first night or the first date, is nasty in the bedroom, had too much to drink one night and made a bad decision, smoked weed, got laid with a native while on vacation, cheated on a boyfriend or husband, dated a man for money, only likes guys with muscles, wants a man to pay all the bills even if she can do it herself, etc. There is absolutely nothing a woman can say to convince a man she hasn’t done some things her man would be ashamed to hear, doesn’t have some thoughts she would be ashamed to share out, and just because he doesn’t ask about those things, doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Why do we think he’s not asking? BECAUSE HE ASSUMES THAT SHE HAS DONE THOSE THINGS!

When I was in college, I never had a chance to go on Spring Break, but a lot of my boys did and the stories they came back with were absolutely crazy. But guess who was always on the other side of those stories? Women. I always found it funny the way a man would describe his Spring Break in vivid detail, with a lot of references to women they met and partied with. When I asked women what they did for their Spring Break, details were always sparse, and men were never mentioned. Therefore I came to one conclusion: While it may be true some men lie about what they do, it’s definitely true some women lie about what they don’t do.

Everyone likes to misconstrue permiscious behavior as some sort of tell-tale sign they’re not ready to be in a relationship. I laugh at such elementary, obtuse thinking. There is never a time when I am not hoping the woman I meet is the woman I marry. I’m a romantic like that. But there’s also never a time where I’m not hoping she doesn’t want to just get laid and wants me to do it. I’m a freak like that. And last but not least, there’s never a time where I am not hoping I can’t get both women in one. I’m a dreamer like that.

Now of course, someone is going to comment today and say if I believe every woman I meet has done something like sleep with a man within one week or the same night of meeting him, then obviously I have no respect for women in general. But that would be extremely short sighted because I know I don’t treat any woman like I have no respect for her. Matter of fact, I don’t think any woman who has dealt with me can say I disrespected them out right. Treated them differently than what they would like? Maybe, but it was never done disrespectfully. I respect and recognize all women as good women first, I just hope they’re the type of good woman who likes to do things the same way I like to do things. If she doesn’t I can respect that. But if she does, I can respect that too.

A Case for Looks

Looks matter.

The biggest lie we tell ourselves and others is they don’t. That lie is right up there with the devil doesn’t exist and the one about a fat, bearded white man who lives in the North Pole and jumps down chimneys every year on Christmas to give gifts while we sleep. As a matter of fact, that lie is more believable than the one about looks not mattering.

I, on the other hand, will never tell such a lie to myself or anyone else.

Growing up, I had the good fortune of having a mother and sister whose looks stopped traffic and I always noticed how people would respond to me whenever I was around mom and sis. Women in the mall would take a second glance at me, female classmates of mine disguised their interest in me by complimenting my “beautiful” mother and sister. From a very young age I saw firsthand how people responded to a man who had a beautiful woman around him, even if those women were family.

The attention I received from being around my mother and sister when I was younger has influenced my attitude about beautiful women today. In short, I always want to be around them, no matter the circumstances. If I’m on in a taxi and there’s open seating, I might leave my backpack on the open seat next to me until I see a woman I find attractive looking for an available seat. Whenever I’m waiting for the next available teller at a bank, I’m always hoping the cutest one will help me (even if I won’t say anything). And it all sounds so superficial, but it comes from an honest place.

Maybe it’s different for men and women. In my experience, women are a little more willing than men to make concessions for a man who may not be their physical prototype. Such was the case for an ex of mine: When asked what type of man she usually went for  for she replied, “Blair Underwood.” The number of underlines it would take for me to emphasize how much I do NOT look like Blair Underwood is infinite. But, what my ex did not say, nor did she believe is I wasn’t attractive at all. I don’t even look like Blair Underwood’s cousin, but to her, I looked good and at least she understood that much.

We all have our own idea what kind of people we find beautiful. As I always like to say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It just so happens I want to be holding the most beautiful woman in the room, but then again, who doesn’t? Even if it’s not true to others, let it be true to ourselves because here’s what happens:

Stay with a person long enough and eventually the things we found most beautiful about them when we met — whether it be their eyes, their smile, their body  — fade. I  want to get as far out in front of this inevitable happening as I possibly can by dating a woman I find most attractive. It’s like my favorite joke: I never laughed harder than I did when I heard it the first time, but that’s not why it’s my favorite. It’s my favorite because even after I say it or hear it a thousand times, at the very least, it makes me grin.

The other thing about a beautiful woman is the feeling I have the first time I see her; it sticks to me no matter how brief or long the encounter. If it so happens the beautiful woman I see becomes a woman I get involved with, the feeling is like a life jacket for the times I’m drowning in her bullshit.

Ideally, I will end up in a relationship with a woman I can call my best friend — a woman who’s my intellectual equal, spiritual, and compassionate — but she has to make me weak in the knees too. As Chris Rock once said, when we get married, we got to love the ugly in our spouse. All I want is to be with a woman whose ugly is most fine.

A Letter To The Ex Girlfriend Who Cheated On Me

Dear Ex Girlfriend Who Cheated On Me,

I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing right now, but I just want to let you know when you cheated on me, you were wrong. I don’t know exactly when you did what you did or who you did it with or where you did it or even how you did it, but I know you cheated on me. I know this because if I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times, Mama ain’t raise no fool.

You think I’m so clueless as to believe you didn’t go behind my back and do a little something with some guy? Let me answer that question with another question.

Do I look stupid to you?

Even if I can’t prove how or when you cheated on me, my gut tells me to believe you did. Back in the day, I used to think, No way, not her. She would never cheat on me. I’m too good of a man to do such a thing. I used to beat my chest and tell all my friends, “I ain’t ever had a girl cheat on me!”

Now it all sounds like some naive young man talk.

I’ve grown up. I’ve seen some things, and when I say things, I mean scandalous, hush-your-mouth type of things from the most wholesome of women. In some cases, I was even a participant in these scandalous things. A hard pill to swallow, for sure, but I’m a man, I can take it. I realize I have made mistakes of epic proportions, if not with you with another woman. Therefore I probably deserved whatever you did, much as it makes me cringe to say that.

But as Jay-Z said, “You don’t get a n**** back like that!”

Why did you have to do what you did with the guy that you did it with? What was it that made you cheat on me in the first place? Was it because I did it to you and you wanted revenge? Maybe I never cheated on you in the first place, but you just couldn’t help y0urself. Was that it? Did you feel entitled to do it because someone else once did it to you? Did you feel better about yourself after it was done?

All these questions are rhetorical.

I don’t really care what you’re reasoning is, because no matter which way you cut it, cheating on me was foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. Foul. FOUL.

And like I said before, I still don’t know who you are, still have never found out exactly what happened, but do me one favor: Keep it that way.

Sincerely Yours,

Jozen

O.N.

Don’t do it again. Thanks.

O.N.M.

This letter applies to you too, future ex-girlfriends!

“boobie trap”...Irresistible

Week before last I went to my home girl Tina’s birthday party at this spot. Me and my man Timo were posted up at the bar when our friend Cynthia  popped up (and out). As soon as I turned around to greet her, all I could see were her breasts, which were right at eye level and on full display thanks to her buttoned down button-up blouse. Since Cynthia is like a sexy stepsister to me—fly as hell but too cool to go there with—I immediately raised my hand to shield the view of her fun bags and demanded she cover them up.

“What are you talking about, Ans,” she chuckled. “They’re just titties.”

“Yes, I know, but we don’t need to be looking at your breasts right now,” I replied. “So put them away.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m not gonna fall into your boobie trap.”

“What the hell is a boobie trap?”

“Those,” I said, pointing at her chest.

A “boobie trap” is what I call a woman’s cleavage when she leaves it exposed. See, men are visual creatures and by nature we’re drawn to shapely women—especially to their, uh, frontal chest region. Maybe it’s something in our genetic makeup or that we’re just horn balls, but men like breasts and we look at them every chance we get. Half the time we don’t even know we’re doing it—it’s just an uncontrollable reflex.

I’ll be the first to confess that I’ve caught myself absentmindedly looking at a woman’s chest. I’ll never leer in a psycho, perverted kinda way, but my eyes tend to get drawn to just about 12 inches below a women’s eye level on a regular bases. I’m not trying to objectify you, degrade you or disrespect you, so when I find myself falling into a boobie trap I try my best to get out of it as soon as possible, like I did with Cynthia.

As much as Cynthia  wants to play innocent, she knew exactly what she was doing when she put that shirt on and decided not to do those last few buttons. Because any woman rockin’ a low-cut blouse with a shiny necklace nestled oh so gently between her soft and supple bosoms (drool) knows that men’s eyes are gonna make a beeline straight to her cleavage. It’s even worse for top-heavy women wearing something revealing, because both men and women are probably gonna sneak a peek. There’s nothing wrong with looking, it’s just a matter of not being too disrespectful. Look but don’t touch. Stare but don’t leer. We mean no harm (well, most of us). One quick glance and we’ll be gone. But it’s like a Lays potato chip, sometimes you can’t have just one…peak. But that’s when you get…

Caught!!!
By the boss’ wife (uh-oh)
Caught!!!
By your best friend’s sister (sorry)
Caught!!!
By the girl across from you on the train/bus/plane, et al. (My bad)
Caught!!!
By the practically every damn woman (oops)

Fellas, I know we like to think we’re slick when we try to grab a quick glance, but we will always get caught. Women have some sort of built in radar that lets them know when we’re looking at their girls. Some will make their disgust quite obvious, while others just ignore it because they’ve become immune to it. But that doesn’t mean that she didn’t catch you, homie. We’re just not as slick as we think we are.

Sometimes guys try to fight the natural instinct to look, which winds up being the most awkward thing in the world. That’s when a guy stares directly into a woman’s eyes as he’s talking to her to let her know his eyes are not wandering. Or, we do the complete opposite and look everywhere but below eye level. We’ll be looking at the top of your head or straight up at the ceiling. By time the conversation is over, we’ll know how many light bulbs are in every room. The goal is to do anything to stop from looking down, but if it’s a long conversation, you’re doomed to fail. The urge to look at a woman’s chest is just too strong. (Yes, it really is). Breasts aren’t going anywhere any time soon (Thank God), and as long as women keep setting their boobie traps, men are gonna get caught looking. Happy hunting, ladies.

Ladies, how often do you catch men looking at your chest? Are you flattered by it or disgusted? Does it depend on who’s falling into your boobie trap? Any women willing to admit to wearing low-cut tops just to get attention? Do some women use their boobie traps to get things out of men? How funny is it when you catch a guy trying not to stare but you know he wants to? Fellas, what joy do you get out of looking at a nice pair of boobies? How awkward is it for you when you try not to stare?

Why I Can’t Stand Married Men Who Cheat

Before I jump into this subject, I want to make it perfectly clear that none of what I am about to write is for the ladies.

This is not for the females who have been hurt by a cheating boyfriend or husband. This is not about how I used to cheat, later realized it was wrong, and went on a journey in search of self discipline and the ability to make good decisions. Today’s post is about none of that and kind of, sort of, not for women, though I would never say they should not read. I just want it to be clear, today I’m not talking to them, and I’m not really talking about me, but since we are talking about cheating, let me get this much out of the way:This is about the married men who cheat and why I have absolutely no respect for them.

The reason I can’t stand married men who cheat is really quite simple: These jerks are getting in my way. This is not to say they’re outmacking me, or they’re directly throwing salt in my game. I don’t look at any man as direct competition, because when it’s time to play,  it’s always me versus her.

But what married men do is they infiltrate an area I already have under control, and what makes it worse is they chose to retire from this line of duty years ago.

Life should come with certain membership cards we can actually hold and from time to time need to show because too many people try and live lives they no longer have the membership to live in. When a man gets married, he should be forced to give away his card into the players club and never be allowed to return. But since life doesn’t come with membership cards, we have guys out here showing their ID to get into the same parties I, a SINGLE man, am getting into.

I am not married. I am fine with that. I have no issue with that. It allows me to have a lot of fun, fun that any man who decided to get married decided to leave behind, except some men don’t learn. They keep on wanting to play in my playground when they have their own swing set at home.

It’s the kind of behavior that pisses me off. It makes me wish I could find the wives of every married man who cheats and be apart of her plans for revenge in the most intimate and inappropriate of ways. That’s cold game, I know, but it’s also truth. The players code doesn’t apply to husbands.  If she felt better afterward, fine, but what I really hope happens is the man finally understands, if he has a pool in his own backyard, he can no longer come over to the public pool and start pissing in it. That’s a right reserved strictly for single men and single women.

I used to think it was nearly impossible for a man to stay faithful, so if he stepped out on his wife, I thought he was only do what came natural to him. Then, I began to think, if it’s so hard to stay faithful in a marriage, then maybe it would be better to either wait to get married or don’t get married at all. Something I call, George Clooning the game. See, men like me and George Clooney know what we want. More women. So we don’t put ourselves in a situation where the supply is cut off. Do we find cheating fundamentally f*cked up? Absolutely. No matter the circum-stance, cheating is wrong, but I think we can all agree that cheating on a spouse is a little worse than cheating on a girlfriend.

Any man who decides to take those vows has four obligations: The first is to his wife, obviously. The second is to himself, because the most important thing for all of us to be is honest with ourselves about ourselves. The third and probably most important is to whatever higher power under which he got married, whether that be the state court, Jesus Christ, or any other spiritual figure. And the fourth is to me.

That’s right me, and all the other single men and women who are out here trying to one day land a life partner of their own. These married men need to realize if getting married is a violation of the player’s code, talking up other women while married, is defecating on it.

Women get approached on a daily basis, and it wears them down to the point where if I see a woman I want to talk at 5:00 p.m. I know I have about 2 minutes less than the man who approached her earlier in the day. when she was fresh. And that’s assuming all the men who did step to her were single too. If one of them was married, it’s even worse because here’s what happens: Sometime around lunch, some guy actually came correct. He said all the right things, tread lightly, was sharp and funny. Then, maybe by accident or maybe if he was brazen enough, on purpose, she found out he was married. Now she sees all the good game he was spitting was cultivated. He already had the championship ring, but he was acting like he had never played the game before. Now she’s pissed off and skeptical of all men who approach her the same way, who come correct with no rings on their finger and no ring marks. She’s skeptical of guys like me and it’s all because of jerks like the married men who cheat.

She Just Passes Out

I’m not cheap, I’m broke. There’s a big difference. But this past Friday night, two women were about to paint me with the cheap brush all because my boy and I were taking up bar space, but not buying drinks for them. My boy was not interested in either of them so he just walked away. I wasn’t interested either, but I refused to let them call me cheap, so I told them I have been on a sabbatical from buying women drinks. When they asked me to explain, this is what I told them.

About six months ago, I was at a bar much like this one and I met this girl. We struck up a conversation and from the moment we met, the chemistry was evident. I was already finishing up on my first drink and noticed she didn’t have one. When I was ready to order my second I asked her if she wanted one too. She said, “Sure, I’ll take a Long Island iced tea.” As I was about to place my order, the girl’s friends were waving her over to them and she says to me, “Let me see what my friends want real quick, I’ll be right back.” I said to her, “Wait until you get your drink.”

The bartender made her drink, handed it to her and then I told her, “Okay, now you can go over to your friends, I’ll wait for you.” I glanced over in her direction while  she’s laughing with her friends and sipping her drink. At one point, all her friends look over to my direction and wave at me with smiles on their faces. I’m thinking, this is going to be a good night for me.

The girl leaves her friends and is walking back over to me, when all of a sudden, she just passes out.

I put down my drink and rush over to the girl. I kneel down and I’m trying to revive her, when out of nowhere her group of friends rush over and one of them screams, “WHAT DID YOU GIVE MY GIRL?!” I looked up and I immediately went into defense mode. The girls are being irrational and accusing me of slipping something in her drink, screaming at me. The guy in their group wants to lay his hands on me, but luckily my boys are there holding him back. Security comes over, grabs me and takes me outside, but they don’t let me go. They’re calling the cops.

Right as the cops pull up, the girl is thankfully revived. They bring her outside, and the cops ask the girl what happened. She says, “Oh, nothing happened. It’s just hot in there and I have a tendency to black out.” One of the cops says to her, “Mam, what about this guy who bought you the drink you were holding when you passed out?” and he points to me. She says, “Oh him? No, no, he made sure I saw the bartender make my drink and hand it to me. This wasn’t his fault. I’m telling you, I just black out when it gets hot.”

The cops apologized to me and left, and security also apologized to me. They also offered to buy my friends and I a round of drinks on the house. I declined and just left. But after that, I told myself I’m taking a sabbatical from buying women drinks until I get over what happened.

When I finished my story, both girls had blank stares. Then, one of them said to me, “Well damn, I wouldn’t buy anybody drinks either if that happened to me.”

“Exactly,” I told her. Then I finished my drink, told the girls it was a pleasure and walked over to where my boy was standing.

“I think I just made up the best story ever,” I said, laughing.

“Word?” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t think I ever have to buy a woman a drink again.” I said.

“What’d you tell them?” he asked.

“Well, about six months ago…”