I’m not going to sit here and tell you women aren’t materialistic. I’m not even going to deny that we don’t lust after Barack simply because he’s a handsome commander-in-chief. I won’t even pretend like women generally don’t care about how much money a man makes. If I told you that, you would call me a liar, and vow to never read my soap-boxes (er eh…I mean blogs) again. And you’d be right. So I’ll start instead by straight-up admitting that even though I have my own isht, I too become giddy when a dude pulls up in an SLK to pick me for dinner at the Chart House!
But looks, education, a career, and money are only a small slice of the what-women-want pie. Height, 24-inch biceps, money, and 25 doctorate degrees don’t replace our basic need to be adored and respected, or our desire to “feel like a woman”. Yet, so often we hear men go into this “woe is me…nice guys finish last” narrative. They seem to think that unless they drive a Mercedes, can bench press 250 lbs., hold an M.B.A., and work for a fortune 500 company, women won’t be interested in them.
Negatroid. Sure, just like men, women have fantasies. But generally, we’re realistic when it comes to dating. I’ll let you guys in a little secret: most of the time when women are sitting around complaining about the deficiencies of men, we’re complaining more about the things they should DO but won’t than we are about the things they could HAVE but don’t.
Here’s some more food for thought for the single men. So often I see you guys sell yourselves short when it comes to a lady you like. You walk by her a thousand times before you stop and ask her name. You don’t call because you’re concerned she won’t answer (so you send that b*llsh*t @ss “what’s up” text). You don’t want to spend money on dates because you “ain’t no sucka”. All these behaviors translate to women as either a huge ego, or a lack of confidence. If you regard me as a respectable young lady who deserves to be properly courted, why don’t you court me properly? Are you just trying to see what you can get away with? If that’s the case, don’t be mad when I treat you like a jump-off and turn over and go to sleep as soon as I get mine! Furthermore, ask yourself: would a confident man demonstrate fear of rejection? No! A confident man knows he’s a great catch and could care less if one particular woman is disinterested! I know - men love women who “play their part” and “let a man be a man” in relationships. Truth is, there are lots of women who actually WANT to play that part. However, you must realize that roles are defined from the moment of the first exchange between a man and a woman. If you don’t play your part and court a lady properly (AHEM…the traditional role of a man) in the dating phase of a relationship, don’t expect her to be a submissive Suzy-homemaker six months down the line.
On to my boyfriends, fiancées, and husbands. First, let me throw out this caveat: I’m single, and have been for quite some time. But I can tell you this – NEVER has a female friend or relative called me to complain about the fact that their man’s car isn’t fly enough, that he can’t afford to take her out, or that he didn’t bring her an extravagant enough floral arrangement. The complaints usually go something like this: “he never takes me anywhere,” “he stayed out all night and didn’t even bother to call,” “he doesn’t appreciate me” - all intangibles. What does that tell you? If she’s with you, it’s probably because of YOU. Men seem to always want to believe that they have to buy a dozen roses, make dinner reservations at The Capital Grille, and drive an Aston Martin to keep a woman happy. Trust me - it ain’t about that (not sayin’ that we don’t like those things too!); it really is the thought that counts. Here’s a tip: save yourself the $32.50 on roses, and just make the frickin’ phone call. Pluck a tulip from the neighbor’s lawn. Bring home her favorite candy bar once in a while. And if you can’t afford that dinner at The Capital Grille, how about just going to Red Lobster (I don’t know anybody who would turn down some cheddar bay biscuits!). Finally, this whole “play ya part” thing applies to you too. Confident, respectable men make calculated decisions, and they’re prepared to deal with the fallout no matter the outcome. You can’t seriously expect your lady to let you be “the man of the house” and manage the finances if you’ve been known to blow your entire check on video games.
That’s it – confidence, love, respect, adoration…you know, the intangibles. Please, fellas, stop running around talkin’ ‘bout how women don’t know how to treat a good man, how we only want to date thugs and gangstas, or how we have unrealistic expectations of men (we don’t really wanna date Barack! Barack is too damn busy! And married!). Next time you tune your lips up to make those assertions, ask yourself the following questions: have I successfully defined myself as “the man” in the relationship? Am I as confident as a thug or gangsta? Is the pressure I feel really due to my own silly preconceived notions of what I think a woman wants from me? If that pressure has anything to do with possessions, it’s probably more YOU than it is HER. Most women I know genuinely want to be loved, appreciated, respected, and courted. Usually, they would rather you make the “honey, I’ll be home late” phone call than show up the next day with a bouquet.
There’s no big mystery to what women want. Be confident, and learn to put that ego aside. Trust me, that’ll carry you a long way as far as most women are concerned.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The Remark Heard 'Round the Facebook World
The Black Man’s Quote: “Maybe because black women aren’t raised to take care of their man as well as white women or Latina women...I wonder if white and Hispanic women expect to be treated as queens?? Or if they simply want to be great wives and mothers?”
Yes. An actual quote, made on facebook, by a black man (who shall continue to remain nameless).
My initial reactions: offended, hurt, and concerned.
My second thought: well, he just crossed over! (cue Lauryn Hill’s “Lost Ones” – LMAO!)
Now, the author of this quote is a dear friend of mine – so put down the .22 ladies! Additionally, a few other black men quickly chimed in to express their emphatic agreement. Whoa nelly. Y’all might wanna pump ya brakes - you might be digging yourself a deeper grave here.
Even though I disagree with you, I’m not going to lash out. Recognizing that I am the personification of the strong black woman, I am going to respond to this statement on behalf of my sisters just the way a strong black woman should: with the strength to re-educate the miseducated negroes, from an African-American perspective, but in the loving, caring, and nurturing way that a real WOMAN should. (Hey Boo Boo - how you like them apples?!)
First I was offended.
Not for myself, but on behalf of my Caucasian and Latina sisters. You’re implying that white and Latina women aspire to be nothing more than a wife and mother - that they don’t aspire to be educated, develop careers/professions, or advance themselves and their people. Not saying that there’s anything wrong with a woman who only wants a career, or only wants to be a wife/mother, but we all know that it takes a truly GREAT woman to do both. So are you saying that greatness is not something Caucasian/Latina women envision for themselves? And therefore don’t expect to be treated as such? I could go further, but imma let my white/Latina sisters handle the light work.
Then I was hurt.
Black man, you say I don’t know how to treat you, but what about me? Lauryn said it best - “Tell me who I have to be to get some reciprocity.” What’s taking care of my man? Am I supposed to cook and clean, massage his back, tell him he’s wonderful, be slow to accuse, hasten to love, look good 24-7, and submit to his will? I see a lot of black women doing that for their black man - to no avail. Their relationships end in infidelity and betrayal; they end up abused and broken-hearted, as struggling single mothers, or literally shedding tears in the rain. Inherent in this quote is one correct assumption: black women are slow to submit. However the neglected principle here is the painful reason behind this: so often black men perceive submission as weakness, or are simply incapable of dealing with it. When we let you have your way, you wanna stick your chest out and give us your ass to kiss. But then you wanna holla at us about how we won’t "let a man be a man". Why do I have to let you do anything? How about you just BE a man? A man is supposed to shelter a woman’s vulnerability, not take advantage of it. Sure, I could submit to your way, give it up whenever you want it, give you head everyday, let you control the remote, only cook your favorite meals...but if I do all that, are you still going to respect me? Hell, if I give it up to you tonight, are you even going to call me tomorrow? Or even respect me enough to return my call? And because I am less prepared to accept your b*llsh*t (or am more aware of it) than my Latina and Caucasian counterparts, this somehow makes me a less valuable woman?
Finally, I was concerned.
I say I am a queen and expect to be treated as such. You manage to find fault in that and respond with a back-handed comment that was designed to slap me down – lower my self-esteem, and let me know that I ain’t no better than any other woman walking through this world. Look, it’s not me I’m worried about - I’m still a queen. My concern is you. The fact of the matter is - if you can’t see the strength and greatness in me, then by definition, you don’t see it in you. I am your reflection. Do you know who I am? Maybe you need to read some Maya Angelou. Do you know who you are? Maybe you need to pick up some Marcus Garvey. We were kings and queens long before being brought to this place called America. You don’t wanna wife a queen? Look, if you’re not up to the task of treating a queen like a queen, that tells me one thing - you are not a king. Just as it is a woman’s role to respect, love, and submit to her man, it is a man’s role to do the same for his woman. Just as a queen upgrades a king, a king should do the same for his queen. I know, it’s hard out here. There are alot of masqueraders in this world - hoochie mamas pretending to be queens. But please, don’t give up on us black man. The real strong black women aren’t ready to give up on you.
Yes. An actual quote, made on facebook, by a black man (who shall continue to remain nameless).
My initial reactions: offended, hurt, and concerned.
My second thought: well, he just crossed over! (cue Lauryn Hill’s “Lost Ones” – LMAO!)
Now, the author of this quote is a dear friend of mine – so put down the .22 ladies! Additionally, a few other black men quickly chimed in to express their emphatic agreement. Whoa nelly. Y’all might wanna pump ya brakes - you might be digging yourself a deeper grave here.
Even though I disagree with you, I’m not going to lash out. Recognizing that I am the personification of the strong black woman, I am going to respond to this statement on behalf of my sisters just the way a strong black woman should: with the strength to re-educate the miseducated negroes, from an African-American perspective, but in the loving, caring, and nurturing way that a real WOMAN should. (Hey Boo Boo - how you like them apples?!)
First I was offended.
Not for myself, but on behalf of my Caucasian and Latina sisters. You’re implying that white and Latina women aspire to be nothing more than a wife and mother - that they don’t aspire to be educated, develop careers/professions, or advance themselves and their people. Not saying that there’s anything wrong with a woman who only wants a career, or only wants to be a wife/mother, but we all know that it takes a truly GREAT woman to do both. So are you saying that greatness is not something Caucasian/Latina women envision for themselves? And therefore don’t expect to be treated as such? I could go further, but imma let my white/Latina sisters handle the light work.
Then I was hurt.
Black man, you say I don’t know how to treat you, but what about me? Lauryn said it best - “Tell me who I have to be to get some reciprocity.” What’s taking care of my man? Am I supposed to cook and clean, massage his back, tell him he’s wonderful, be slow to accuse, hasten to love, look good 24-7, and submit to his will? I see a lot of black women doing that for their black man - to no avail. Their relationships end in infidelity and betrayal; they end up abused and broken-hearted, as struggling single mothers, or literally shedding tears in the rain. Inherent in this quote is one correct assumption: black women are slow to submit. However the neglected principle here is the painful reason behind this: so often black men perceive submission as weakness, or are simply incapable of dealing with it. When we let you have your way, you wanna stick your chest out and give us your ass to kiss. But then you wanna holla at us about how we won’t "let a man be a man". Why do I have to let you do anything? How about you just BE a man? A man is supposed to shelter a woman’s vulnerability, not take advantage of it. Sure, I could submit to your way, give it up whenever you want it, give you head everyday, let you control the remote, only cook your favorite meals...but if I do all that, are you still going to respect me? Hell, if I give it up to you tonight, are you even going to call me tomorrow? Or even respect me enough to return my call? And because I am less prepared to accept your b*llsh*t (or am more aware of it) than my Latina and Caucasian counterparts, this somehow makes me a less valuable woman?
Finally, I was concerned.
I say I am a queen and expect to be treated as such. You manage to find fault in that and respond with a back-handed comment that was designed to slap me down – lower my self-esteem, and let me know that I ain’t no better than any other woman walking through this world. Look, it’s not me I’m worried about - I’m still a queen. My concern is you. The fact of the matter is - if you can’t see the strength and greatness in me, then by definition, you don’t see it in you. I am your reflection. Do you know who I am? Maybe you need to read some Maya Angelou. Do you know who you are? Maybe you need to pick up some Marcus Garvey. We were kings and queens long before being brought to this place called America. You don’t wanna wife a queen? Look, if you’re not up to the task of treating a queen like a queen, that tells me one thing - you are not a king. Just as it is a woman’s role to respect, love, and submit to her man, it is a man’s role to do the same for his woman. Just as a queen upgrades a king, a king should do the same for his queen. I know, it’s hard out here. There are alot of masqueraders in this world - hoochie mamas pretending to be queens. But please, don’t give up on us black man. The real strong black women aren’t ready to give up on you.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Goodbye Luxe...it was fun-ish for one night.
What is the problem with the night life in Philly? I don’t get it. This is a major city, nestled midway between New York and D.C., both of which have a healthy array of night-life options appropriate for their magnitude and population. Now I know Philly is no New York. Hell, Philly is not even D.C. But c’mon, the night life around here resembles that of a city with the magnitude of a dead duck. You know it’s a sad day when I’d rather be in BALTIMORE on a Friday night than stuck choosing between Guitar Hero and a movie and drink at The Bridge.
So what’s the problem? I’ll tell you what the problem is – Luxe Lounge. No, not Luxe specifically, but the kind of practices they are engaging in which will indubitably ultimately result in their demise. I’ve seen it all before. I hate to tell you Luxe, but unless you change your ways, you are doomed to fail.
First of all, you charge a $20 cover. I’ve been to Luxe – twice. Neither occasion was anything to write home about. The first time I left within 20 minutes of arriving. The second time I muddled through, but felt like a sardine in a can, started sweating the moment I walked in the door, and some random lesbian ended up grabbing my ass. Not cool – and definitely not worth $20 of my hard earned money. You see, what Luxe and so many of it’s predecessors failed to realize is that there is a solid core of young black professionals (YBPs stand up!!) present in the Philadelphia area. For the most part, WE ALL KNOW EACHOTHER. We don’t like to be huddled up like sardines in a can, we don’t like to pay $20 for admission (many of us are grad/professional students - HELLO!!), and we certainly don’t like random gays grabbing our booties when we walk by. Nevertheless, you need us. You need us because we bring the two things to your club that will ensure its longevity: style and civility. Trust me when I tell you that Palmers and Pinnacle have the ghetto club scene on lock. If I wanted to sweat my ass off, have dudes rub their hoo-hoos on my behind, and flirt with common thugs – I’d go there. And I wouldn’t have to pay $20 to get in. But Luxe, I’m not your problem. Your problem is that 99% of the YBP community feels the same way. How long do you think it’s going to be before the word spreads that what you’re offering is no different than Transit or Fuzion? Why would we YBPs wanna pay $20 for that, when we can go to Bamboo or Walnut Room for free?
Second, your drinks are overpriced. Most of us YBPs have our own bars at home. We realize that we can buy a whole fifth of Jack for the $10 you’re charging for a Jack and coke. Smh. Nuff said.
Third, you’re frisking me at the door. I respect what you’re are trying to do, but understand it’s sending the wrong signal. It’s telling me that you’re EXPECTING hoodlums to try to get into your club. I would hope that instead you’d be fixated on attracting the kind of civil and stylish crowd that would be a pure turn-off to hood rats. I’ve never been frisked at Walnut Room, Tragos, Bamboo...and yes, anything could happen at any of those places at anytime, but when you frisk it says to me that you’re trying to protect yourself from a liability – that you EXPECT trigger-happy, knife wielding fools to get stupid on your watch. I got news for you Luxe, frisking hoods doesn’t keep them under control. If you expect those kinds of fools to come through your door, than you must not be expecting me (and the rest of the YBPs). But alas, I accept that Luxe’ dubious location (next door to Pinnacle) may make frisking and purse-rifling a necessity. However, could you please hire some petite, friendly-faced, seemingly heterosexual, young women to frisk me? Why do I have to get frisked by some big-bodied, bald-headed, broad-shouldered, husky-voiced bitch? I feel even MORE violated by that than I would if some uninvited man felt up my legs and abdomen.
Fourth, you’re playing Soulja boy and “Stanky Leg”. Really?? If you want style and civility to last in your establishment, YOU HAVE TO HIRE A DJ WITH A NOTED REPUTATION OF ATTRACTING SUCH. Remember when Tragos used to be hot every Saturday night? That had more to do with WHO was spinning and WHAT he was playing, than it did the establishment itself. Don’t believe me? Go to Tragos on a Saturday night now that THAT DJ has retired his post – tumbleweeds. Look Luxe, I’m pushing 30, I appreciate a little Marvin Gaye and Soul Sonic Force mixed in with my Jay-Z and Beyoncè. Judging by the elation evident in the YBP crowd when Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” comes on, they do too. If you want to attract us you gotta play what we wanna hear – and Soulja boy and “Stanky Leg” ain’t it. I suggest you hire a respectable DJ and put him on a regular rotation. How about your favorite DJ's favorite DJ – Brendan Bring ‘Em? Just a suggestion. At this point you’ll probably need to pay him boat-loads of money just to convince him to cooperate - since I’m sure by now he’s wise to the idea that you need him WAY more than he needs you.
Last but not least, you have no respect for the ladies. You know what makes men come to the club? Women. You know what makes women come the club? Men. The trick to ensuring the longevity of a night spot is simple: get the women and the men will come…and once the men arrive, the women will stay. That’s why pretty girls don’t have to wait in line and pay reduced admissions at most reasonable establishments. Generally, the bouncers just let us right in without too much hassle. Hmph. I took a solo sojourn to our beloved Luxe Lounge last night. I didn’t leave until after the game was over, meaning I didn’t arrive at the door until around 12:45. The bouncer (who recognized me as a friend of a friend) was super-concerned about checking my ID (presumably because his manager was in the vicinity). Two seconds later, the manager emerges with a girl he’s threatening to put out simply because she didn’t put her shoes back on fast enough after he told her to. I observe this and immediately reach for my cell phone; I’m having reservations. Seeing as how my first two visits to Luxe were nothing more than blah, there’s a $20 cover, and a future stalker on the horizon (**insider: that dude from Walnut Room), I’m not so sure this Luxe thing is what I really wanna do tonight. I text my boy (a Philly YBP) who’s already inside – “is it worth it”. I’m waiting for his response, meanwhile I make my way to the hgusky bitch who’s supposed to frisk me and rifle through my purse before I'm permitted the pleasure of paying the $20 cover. I grudgingly open my purse to her. She looks me in the eye, points at my mouth, and then at the trash. “What?” I asked perplexed. She smirks - “Your gum has to go in the trash”. WHAT! That’s absurd. Nah son. CURVE!! I turn around and head out the door. Two seconds later I get a text from the homie who I’d asked if it was worth it. His response: “borderline”. Right. $20 for 1 hour and 15 minutes of “borderline” – and that’s BEFORE I buy a drink. Nah son, I’m cool. Like I said before - CURVE! What a waste of time and an outfit – and you know how much women HATE to waste an outfit. **Sigh**
I hope you folks that did make it inside Luxe last night had a real blast – but I’m sure you didn’t. So like I said at the outset, goodbye Luxe – it was fun-ish for one night.
So what’s the problem? I’ll tell you what the problem is – Luxe Lounge. No, not Luxe specifically, but the kind of practices they are engaging in which will indubitably ultimately result in their demise. I’ve seen it all before. I hate to tell you Luxe, but unless you change your ways, you are doomed to fail.
First of all, you charge a $20 cover. I’ve been to Luxe – twice. Neither occasion was anything to write home about. The first time I left within 20 minutes of arriving. The second time I muddled through, but felt like a sardine in a can, started sweating the moment I walked in the door, and some random lesbian ended up grabbing my ass. Not cool – and definitely not worth $20 of my hard earned money. You see, what Luxe and so many of it’s predecessors failed to realize is that there is a solid core of young black professionals (YBPs stand up!!) present in the Philadelphia area. For the most part, WE ALL KNOW EACHOTHER. We don’t like to be huddled up like sardines in a can, we don’t like to pay $20 for admission (many of us are grad/professional students - HELLO!!), and we certainly don’t like random gays grabbing our booties when we walk by. Nevertheless, you need us. You need us because we bring the two things to your club that will ensure its longevity: style and civility. Trust me when I tell you that Palmers and Pinnacle have the ghetto club scene on lock. If I wanted to sweat my ass off, have dudes rub their hoo-hoos on my behind, and flirt with common thugs – I’d go there. And I wouldn’t have to pay $20 to get in. But Luxe, I’m not your problem. Your problem is that 99% of the YBP community feels the same way. How long do you think it’s going to be before the word spreads that what you’re offering is no different than Transit or Fuzion? Why would we YBPs wanna pay $20 for that, when we can go to Bamboo or Walnut Room for free?
Second, your drinks are overpriced. Most of us YBPs have our own bars at home. We realize that we can buy a whole fifth of Jack for the $10 you’re charging for a Jack and coke. Smh. Nuff said.
Third, you’re frisking me at the door. I respect what you’re are trying to do, but understand it’s sending the wrong signal. It’s telling me that you’re EXPECTING hoodlums to try to get into your club. I would hope that instead you’d be fixated on attracting the kind of civil and stylish crowd that would be a pure turn-off to hood rats. I’ve never been frisked at Walnut Room, Tragos, Bamboo...and yes, anything could happen at any of those places at anytime, but when you frisk it says to me that you’re trying to protect yourself from a liability – that you EXPECT trigger-happy, knife wielding fools to get stupid on your watch. I got news for you Luxe, frisking hoods doesn’t keep them under control. If you expect those kinds of fools to come through your door, than you must not be expecting me (and the rest of the YBPs). But alas, I accept that Luxe’ dubious location (next door to Pinnacle) may make frisking and purse-rifling a necessity. However, could you please hire some petite, friendly-faced, seemingly heterosexual, young women to frisk me? Why do I have to get frisked by some big-bodied, bald-headed, broad-shouldered, husky-voiced bitch? I feel even MORE violated by that than I would if some uninvited man felt up my legs and abdomen.
Fourth, you’re playing Soulja boy and “Stanky Leg”. Really?? If you want style and civility to last in your establishment, YOU HAVE TO HIRE A DJ WITH A NOTED REPUTATION OF ATTRACTING SUCH. Remember when Tragos used to be hot every Saturday night? That had more to do with WHO was spinning and WHAT he was playing, than it did the establishment itself. Don’t believe me? Go to Tragos on a Saturday night now that THAT DJ has retired his post – tumbleweeds. Look Luxe, I’m pushing 30, I appreciate a little Marvin Gaye and Soul Sonic Force mixed in with my Jay-Z and Beyoncè. Judging by the elation evident in the YBP crowd when Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” comes on, they do too. If you want to attract us you gotta play what we wanna hear – and Soulja boy and “Stanky Leg” ain’t it. I suggest you hire a respectable DJ and put him on a regular rotation. How about your favorite DJ's favorite DJ – Brendan Bring ‘Em? Just a suggestion. At this point you’ll probably need to pay him boat-loads of money just to convince him to cooperate - since I’m sure by now he’s wise to the idea that you need him WAY more than he needs you.
Last but not least, you have no respect for the ladies. You know what makes men come to the club? Women. You know what makes women come the club? Men. The trick to ensuring the longevity of a night spot is simple: get the women and the men will come…and once the men arrive, the women will stay. That’s why pretty girls don’t have to wait in line and pay reduced admissions at most reasonable establishments. Generally, the bouncers just let us right in without too much hassle. Hmph. I took a solo sojourn to our beloved Luxe Lounge last night. I didn’t leave until after the game was over, meaning I didn’t arrive at the door until around 12:45. The bouncer (who recognized me as a friend of a friend) was super-concerned about checking my ID (presumably because his manager was in the vicinity). Two seconds later, the manager emerges with a girl he’s threatening to put out simply because she didn’t put her shoes back on fast enough after he told her to. I observe this and immediately reach for my cell phone; I’m having reservations. Seeing as how my first two visits to Luxe were nothing more than blah, there’s a $20 cover, and a future stalker on the horizon (**insider: that dude from Walnut Room), I’m not so sure this Luxe thing is what I really wanna do tonight. I text my boy (a Philly YBP) who’s already inside – “is it worth it”. I’m waiting for his response, meanwhile I make my way to the hgusky bitch who’s supposed to frisk me and rifle through my purse before I'm permitted the pleasure of paying the $20 cover. I grudgingly open my purse to her. She looks me in the eye, points at my mouth, and then at the trash. “What?” I asked perplexed. She smirks - “Your gum has to go in the trash”. WHAT! That’s absurd. Nah son. CURVE!! I turn around and head out the door. Two seconds later I get a text from the homie who I’d asked if it was worth it. His response: “borderline”. Right. $20 for 1 hour and 15 minutes of “borderline” – and that’s BEFORE I buy a drink. Nah son, I’m cool. Like I said before - CURVE! What a waste of time and an outfit – and you know how much women HATE to waste an outfit. **Sigh**
I hope you folks that did make it inside Luxe last night had a real blast – but I’m sure you didn’t. So like I said at the outset, goodbye Luxe – it was fun-ish for one night.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Lie to You
Ladies and gentlemen, I think I finally have the dating game figured out. My new strategy is simple: lie.
Yes, lie – because apparently honesty isn’t getting me anywhere. And I have considered the possibility that it’s all me, that I’m a poor communicator, that I’m not capable of saying exactly what I want, that I’m not pretty enough, that I need to lose weight, that I need to dress like a lady, that I need to stop cursing all the f*@#ing time. There is some truth in all of those things, but the reality is that’s only 20% of the problem. Now I get it. It’s not me – IT’S YOU.
When I say you, I mean all of you baby boys. You know, the ones who we good women give credit for being men the moment we meet you, but we forget that you actually might be a 35-year-old little boy. We forget that you were raised in the same streets as the low-lives that we wouldn’t give the time of day. We forget that, as much as you talk about how much you want a “real woman,” yo dumb ass might not actually be capable of handling one. We good women give you undercover baby boys WAAAAYYY too much credit.
Do you know the sad reason I still drive an ’06 G35 instead of stepping up to an ’09 M35 like I really want to? Baby boys. Baby boys who pretend like they want to be with a woman who’s capable of doing her own thang, but in reality, a woman with her own sh*t intimidates them. For the life of me, I can’t understand it, but somehow my ride being flyer than yours translates in your weak ass mind to you somehow being incapable of taking care of my needs. Somehow my swag undermines your manhood – in your weak ass mind. I know it; I watched your whole game switch-up the moment you realized how I was rolling. Something in you said, “she’s not to be played with.” Now that you’ve dropped back on your pursuit, am I not to assume that it’s because you’re intimidated and afraid of rejection? Hey numskull, peep this: the ’06 G35 doesn’t change the fact that I’m a woman with needs, that I like to be held at night, that I appreciate flowers, candy, and hand-written birthday cards. Just imagine, if cats are intimidated by a bruised-up G35, how would they act if I roll up in a brand new M? Presumably the same way they acted when the G was brand new - scared.
Back to the undercover baby boy. He’s the one who brings his own to the table too, however, he’s not accustomed to meeting a woman who is as well. He goes on murmuring about being single, complaining that he can’t find a lady who is his match. Yet when he’s finally confronted with his reflection, he runs - just like the baby boy these streets raised you to be. Look, baby boy, I know what your problem is. You’re scared of rejection, you’re scared of losing control, you’re scared of falling in love. You’re so used to impressing simple women with simple sh*t - and you think you’ll have to do triple somersaults to impress me. You’re scared of doing gymnastics - probably because you don’t want to land on your ass. Can’t say I blame you. But why do you try to make me think I’m crazy? As if there is something wrong with me. Hmph, I ain’t neva scared (doesn’t that make me more of a man than you?).
*Sigh* I could see how I would intimidate you, or undermine your manhood – in your simple ass mind - like I said before. So I’ll tell you what I’m going to do for you from now on...you know, to make it easier for you to feel like a man. So that you can go on believing that your presence alone is enough to impress me (even though truthfully, it really is - and I’ve told you that before, but now I see that I have to dumb myself down in order to make it less “too-good-to-be-true” for you). I’m gonna make myself an “easier catch” in your eyes, so I can stop looking like a whole heap of work to you, or like a “high-maintenance chick” as you’ve referred to me before (wow...I’ve been handling my own business for over a decade, but somehow I appear “high-maintenance” to you). I get it, you’re lazy, and not into gymnastics. Especially when there’s a “low-maintenance” broad who’d be happy to have you – and you don’t have to do back flips to get with her. So ok, here we are. Here are the new lies that I’m going to tell you. I hope they subconsciously boost your ego so that you feel comfortable enough to actually pursue me.
1. This is actually my dad’s car.
2. This was my grandma’s house.
3. No, I’m not in a dual-doctorate degree program.
4. What am I doing at UPenn you ask? Oh, I only got in to Penn because my Aunt works there.
5. I bought this Gucci bag on 52nd St.
6. I really don’t understand modern politics, or the theory of relativity. In fact, I’m pretty stupid.
7. I don’t know how to change a tire, or install an air conditioner, or stain in polyurethane, or hell, even screw in a light bulb. In fact I’m totally helpless. Could you please help me put gas in my car? Err…I meant my dad’s car.
8. I’m not cool. I don’t even listen to hip-hop - that Cam’ron cd belongs to my bother-in-law.
9. I don’t watch sports at all. Who’s Donovan McNabb? And what’s a safety?
10. I have no culture. What is this cabernet sauvignon and white zinfandel you speak of? Are they rock bands?
There. Am I now sufficiently enough of a non-challenge that you’re willing to put in the ounce of work in takes to get me? Right, that’s what I thought. Bitch ass n*gg*s. Smh.
Yes, lie – because apparently honesty isn’t getting me anywhere. And I have considered the possibility that it’s all me, that I’m a poor communicator, that I’m not capable of saying exactly what I want, that I’m not pretty enough, that I need to lose weight, that I need to dress like a lady, that I need to stop cursing all the f*@#ing time. There is some truth in all of those things, but the reality is that’s only 20% of the problem. Now I get it. It’s not me – IT’S YOU.
When I say you, I mean all of you baby boys. You know, the ones who we good women give credit for being men the moment we meet you, but we forget that you actually might be a 35-year-old little boy. We forget that you were raised in the same streets as the low-lives that we wouldn’t give the time of day. We forget that, as much as you talk about how much you want a “real woman,” yo dumb ass might not actually be capable of handling one. We good women give you undercover baby boys WAAAAYYY too much credit.
Do you know the sad reason I still drive an ’06 G35 instead of stepping up to an ’09 M35 like I really want to? Baby boys. Baby boys who pretend like they want to be with a woman who’s capable of doing her own thang, but in reality, a woman with her own sh*t intimidates them. For the life of me, I can’t understand it, but somehow my ride being flyer than yours translates in your weak ass mind to you somehow being incapable of taking care of my needs. Somehow my swag undermines your manhood – in your weak ass mind. I know it; I watched your whole game switch-up the moment you realized how I was rolling. Something in you said, “she’s not to be played with.” Now that you’ve dropped back on your pursuit, am I not to assume that it’s because you’re intimidated and afraid of rejection? Hey numskull, peep this: the ’06 G35 doesn’t change the fact that I’m a woman with needs, that I like to be held at night, that I appreciate flowers, candy, and hand-written birthday cards. Just imagine, if cats are intimidated by a bruised-up G35, how would they act if I roll up in a brand new M? Presumably the same way they acted when the G was brand new - scared.
Back to the undercover baby boy. He’s the one who brings his own to the table too, however, he’s not accustomed to meeting a woman who is as well. He goes on murmuring about being single, complaining that he can’t find a lady who is his match. Yet when he’s finally confronted with his reflection, he runs - just like the baby boy these streets raised you to be. Look, baby boy, I know what your problem is. You’re scared of rejection, you’re scared of losing control, you’re scared of falling in love. You’re so used to impressing simple women with simple sh*t - and you think you’ll have to do triple somersaults to impress me. You’re scared of doing gymnastics - probably because you don’t want to land on your ass. Can’t say I blame you. But why do you try to make me think I’m crazy? As if there is something wrong with me. Hmph, I ain’t neva scared (doesn’t that make me more of a man than you?).
*Sigh* I could see how I would intimidate you, or undermine your manhood – in your simple ass mind - like I said before. So I’ll tell you what I’m going to do for you from now on...you know, to make it easier for you to feel like a man. So that you can go on believing that your presence alone is enough to impress me (even though truthfully, it really is - and I’ve told you that before, but now I see that I have to dumb myself down in order to make it less “too-good-to-be-true” for you). I’m gonna make myself an “easier catch” in your eyes, so I can stop looking like a whole heap of work to you, or like a “high-maintenance chick” as you’ve referred to me before (wow...I’ve been handling my own business for over a decade, but somehow I appear “high-maintenance” to you). I get it, you’re lazy, and not into gymnastics. Especially when there’s a “low-maintenance” broad who’d be happy to have you – and you don’t have to do back flips to get with her. So ok, here we are. Here are the new lies that I’m going to tell you. I hope they subconsciously boost your ego so that you feel comfortable enough to actually pursue me.
1. This is actually my dad’s car.
2. This was my grandma’s house.
3. No, I’m not in a dual-doctorate degree program.
4. What am I doing at UPenn you ask? Oh, I only got in to Penn because my Aunt works there.
5. I bought this Gucci bag on 52nd St.
6. I really don’t understand modern politics, or the theory of relativity. In fact, I’m pretty stupid.
7. I don’t know how to change a tire, or install an air conditioner, or stain in polyurethane, or hell, even screw in a light bulb. In fact I’m totally helpless. Could you please help me put gas in my car? Err…I meant my dad’s car.
8. I’m not cool. I don’t even listen to hip-hop - that Cam’ron cd belongs to my bother-in-law.
9. I don’t watch sports at all. Who’s Donovan McNabb? And what’s a safety?
10. I have no culture. What is this cabernet sauvignon and white zinfandel you speak of? Are they rock bands?
There. Am I now sufficiently enough of a non-challenge that you’re willing to put in the ounce of work in takes to get me? Right, that’s what I thought. Bitch ass n*gg*s. Smh.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Hey, McFly! Tell 'em why you really mad.
The manufactured outraged we witnessed around Barack speaking at Notre Dame over this weekend has really managed to crawl up the back of my leg and get my panties all in a bunch. What is wrong with you people? And when I say you people, I do mean that offensively. This man is the president of the United States of America, the first African-American president of the U.S. no less. I considered it an honor that he stood on the corner a block away from my house when he was just Candidate Obama! I could only imagine the glee I would feel if he actually shook my hand and bestowed upon me my bachelors degree.
But looka here protesters - you are so transparent.
Some of you are legitimately outraged at the Church itself because of the overt hypocrisy the Catholic school displayed by choosing a well-known pro-life headliner for commencement. I get it. Take your protests to the Pope. I didn’t hear a peep from him during this whole mess. The fact of the matter is nearly 50% of Catholics don’t consider themselves pro-life (a polite way to say “I’m pro-choice”), and Obama garnered more than 50% of the Catholic vote in the last election. The Catholic Church has a fair amount of soul-searching to do when it comes to this issue. I completely agree with you - back-pedaling and duplicity are never characteristics you’d like to see from the holy-high. But here’s an idea: knock on your local cardinal’s door instead of making a spectacle of some poor kids’ moment in the spotlight. There’s really no need to have yourself LITERALLY carried off the campus in hand-cuffs (ref). What did that solve? Obama still spoke, he still got his honorary degree, and the Pope still hasn’t pontificated one peep.
The rest of you aren’t outraged about the issue of abortion at all. You people - and I do mean that offensively - are even more disgustingly transparent in your preposterous manufacturing of outrage. Look, I know what’s really got your goat. The holiest of holy – NOTRE DAME – the Fighting Irish – the holy grail of academic institutions as far as some of those rednecks who wouldn’t hesitate to call me a n*gg*r in a heartbeat are concerned – saw its purity desecrated via the descent of (gasp) the first BLACK president!! I know - it was already a blow to the gut when a black man became “the man”. Now, just to add insult to injury, this coon’s gonna hand lil’ Sean McLaughlin and Erin O’Reilly their coveted diplomas! On top of that, they’re gonna just GIVE the n*gg*r another goddamn degree! As if he needs it! Especially considering all the hard-earned dollars you had to spend on lil’ Sean and Erin’s tuition because you and your wife of 20 years made too much money to qualify for financial aid!! What a slap in the face, RIGHT?!
Yeah...I thought this was about your position on abortion, right? RIGHT!!!
But looka here protesters - you are so transparent.
Some of you are legitimately outraged at the Church itself because of the overt hypocrisy the Catholic school displayed by choosing a well-known pro-life headliner for commencement. I get it. Take your protests to the Pope. I didn’t hear a peep from him during this whole mess. The fact of the matter is nearly 50% of Catholics don’t consider themselves pro-life (a polite way to say “I’m pro-choice”), and Obama garnered more than 50% of the Catholic vote in the last election. The Catholic Church has a fair amount of soul-searching to do when it comes to this issue. I completely agree with you - back-pedaling and duplicity are never characteristics you’d like to see from the holy-high. But here’s an idea: knock on your local cardinal’s door instead of making a spectacle of some poor kids’ moment in the spotlight. There’s really no need to have yourself LITERALLY carried off the campus in hand-cuffs (ref). What did that solve? Obama still spoke, he still got his honorary degree, and the Pope still hasn’t pontificated one peep.
The rest of you aren’t outraged about the issue of abortion at all. You people - and I do mean that offensively - are even more disgustingly transparent in your preposterous manufacturing of outrage. Look, I know what’s really got your goat. The holiest of holy – NOTRE DAME – the Fighting Irish – the holy grail of academic institutions as far as some of those rednecks who wouldn’t hesitate to call me a n*gg*r in a heartbeat are concerned – saw its purity desecrated via the descent of (gasp) the first BLACK president!! I know - it was already a blow to the gut when a black man became “the man”. Now, just to add insult to injury, this coon’s gonna hand lil’ Sean McLaughlin and Erin O’Reilly their coveted diplomas! On top of that, they’re gonna just GIVE the n*gg*r another goddamn degree! As if he needs it! Especially considering all the hard-earned dollars you had to spend on lil’ Sean and Erin’s tuition because you and your wife of 20 years made too much money to qualify for financial aid!! What a slap in the face, RIGHT?!
Yeah...I thought this was about your position on abortion, right? RIGHT!!!
Manscaping - my take.
Dear Catrina,
Is manscaping OK or too femme? Manscaping being a man keeping his Bush in order!
Sincerely,
She-she
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hmm. The first time I encountered a partner who engaged in such activity, I must admit I was taken aback. He quickly noted my astonishment and scrambled for justification – “the hair gets caught in my underwear while I’m weight lifting, it’s just easier to shave it all off.” Good enough excuse for me – proceed! Hey, I’ve often said I’ve never known a dude not to hit it because there was a jungle down there, I guess the opposite is true for women *shrug*.
Yet, my opinion of this guy definitely changed after that episode. I started noticing other slightly feminine things he did…shaving his chest, holding his pinky up while he drank from a glass, making noises while we – uh…too much for facebook :-p. Anywho, the accumulation of such actions caused me to be quite turned off, which in itself is a minor miracle – dude was 6’3, 215 lbs, beautiful smile, and the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
Every man can be caught doing something every now and then that might come off as a bitch move (such as drinking a cream soda, or chewing Big Red – LMAO! INSIDER!), so I try not to measure fellas against my definition of masculinity. However, I truly do suggest that men tread carefully when deciding to shape up down there. Be forewarned: many women may interpret this as you caring too much about your appearance. Vanity is almost always a trait that women are repulsed by in men. We prefer that you are completely oblivious to your beauty, even if you’re an Adonis. See, we women pretend that we are frustrated by the minuscule effort men put in to their appearance everyday. The truth is we actually find it sexy, natural, and it sometimes even makes us feel like more of a woman. It can actually turn us on when you’re hairy, funky, and dirty (well, maybe not all three at the same time, but you get the picture). When you're clean, shaven, and soft as a baby’s behind, you remind us of ourselves – and if we were sexually attracted to ourselves, we’d be lesbians.
Is manscaping OK or too femme? Manscaping being a man keeping his Bush in order!
Sincerely,
She-she
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hmm. The first time I encountered a partner who engaged in such activity, I must admit I was taken aback. He quickly noted my astonishment and scrambled for justification – “the hair gets caught in my underwear while I’m weight lifting, it’s just easier to shave it all off.” Good enough excuse for me – proceed! Hey, I’ve often said I’ve never known a dude not to hit it because there was a jungle down there, I guess the opposite is true for women *shrug*.
Yet, my opinion of this guy definitely changed after that episode. I started noticing other slightly feminine things he did…shaving his chest, holding his pinky up while he drank from a glass, making noises while we – uh…too much for facebook :-p. Anywho, the accumulation of such actions caused me to be quite turned off, which in itself is a minor miracle – dude was 6’3, 215 lbs, beautiful smile, and the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
Every man can be caught doing something every now and then that might come off as a bitch move (such as drinking a cream soda, or chewing Big Red – LMAO! INSIDER!), so I try not to measure fellas against my definition of masculinity. However, I truly do suggest that men tread carefully when deciding to shape up down there. Be forewarned: many women may interpret this as you caring too much about your appearance. Vanity is almost always a trait that women are repulsed by in men. We prefer that you are completely oblivious to your beauty, even if you’re an Adonis. See, we women pretend that we are frustrated by the minuscule effort men put in to their appearance everyday. The truth is we actually find it sexy, natural, and it sometimes even makes us feel like more of a woman. It can actually turn us on when you’re hairy, funky, and dirty (well, maybe not all three at the same time, but you get the picture). When you're clean, shaven, and soft as a baby’s behind, you remind us of ourselves – and if we were sexually attracted to ourselves, we’d be lesbians.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
He Thinks, She Thinks
She thinks she deserves a phone call. He thinks he’ll call her when he has something to say.
He thinks you two are just “kickin’ it”. She thinks it’s time for an official label.
She thinks the sex was about two bodies becoming one. He thinks you were both just enjoying some sexual gratification.
He thinks when he says it’s over, it’s over. She thinks he’s only saying it’s over because he loves me.
It’s obvious. Men and women are pre-programmed to think differently. As people, we must strive to modify our innate thinking patterns in order to become the best we can be.
Men think logically, that’s a good thing.
You’ve heard it said: women tend to think emotionally first, then logically, while men think logically first, then emotionally. So who is most likely to get hurt in relationships? Women of course! We tend to allow our emotional investment to precede logic and reason. Why would you become so emotionally invested in someone who’s just “kicking it” with you? Men generally don’t do that – the reason they tend to emerge from relationships virtually unscathed, leaving the woman to wonder how he could just turn and become “so cold”. Ever consider that he didn’t turn and become cold? Maybe he was never even warm. Why? Because he thought with his logical mind, and logically it makes no sense to get all emotional about someone with whom you have zero commitment. When we step back and reanalyze our circumstances with our logical minds, we frequently discover that our thought patterns were irrational and delusional; our reactions appear unreasonable and hyper-emotional. Unfortunately, by the time we get to this point, it’s too late. We have already shed a number of unnecessary tears, bargained beyond the point of self-respect, and damaged the friendship we’ve established with “that dude” through our toxic words and actions - which he indubitably perceives as pure ridiculosity and foolishness. So as women, how do we overcome this? First, we must accept that as women, we are delusional and hyper-emotional by nature (acceptance is the first step to recovery!). Realizing that our visceral responses are frequently based on emotional thought processes, we have to find a way to pump the brakes and give our logical minds an opportunity to take over. I often joke around and say, “the number one rule in relationships: shut the f*ck up.” In order for that to make sense, I really should expound upon that idea. What I really mean is FIRST shut up, THEN think logically about what has happened, try to see things from both perspectives, determine the true value of the relationship to you, and tailor your response accordingly. Men lack the necessary machinery to process emotional complexities. When women express their grievances with emotion, men frequently have difficulty interpreting that language, consequently become perplexed and bewildered (which they hate), and thus reason that the woman is “crazy”, thereby taking the easy way out. We’ve all been there, right? Don’t you agree that things usually turn out better when you’ve repressed your swell of emotion, and given yourself some time to think about it first?
Women think emotionally, that’s a good thing.
So by now I’m sure men are getting a good laugh, thinking “I knew it, all bitches are crazy.” Slow down homie. You love it that we’re crazy. Let me tell you why. We are the nurturers, the nourishers, the child bearers. We have been blessed with infinite powers, women’s intuition, and foresight beyond your wildest dreams. Moreover, we possess that thing between our legs which can drive you “crazy”, and thus plays a crucial role in helping the world go ‘round. You’ve accepted it a long time ago - there is no love like a woman’s love, there is no compassion like that which a mother offers, and there is nothing you would rather do at the end of a long day than be completely enveloped in the warmth of a woman’s adoration. What make a woman’s love so special? The kind of love you don’t ever see yourself as being capable of giving? She thinks emotionally first. Even though logically, self-preservation dictates she put her own needs above yours, she still considers you first. So you see, she isn’t crazy - just mystified by your propensity to fail to appreciate her despite all the consideration she has made for you. Still she suffers herself to you - frequently in silence - until the day comes when she can no longer stand what she perceives as use and abuse. She begins to think logically about what is happening. She begins to compute what you have given her and subtract what she has given you, and the math just doesn’t add up. So she walks away, leaving you confused, because you thought everything was “cool”. It amazes me the number of times in my life a man has confessed affection for me that I had no idea he harbored – especially AFTER I’ve told him “I’m done.” Many times, it’s too late for him to make it right (because by the time I’ve said “I’m done” I had probably already moved on to somebody else! lol). The window had been closed, all because he failed to interpret my actions using his emotional mind, i.e. he thought logically about everything. For example, he thinks because he always pays the bill when we go out to dinner that means he’s taking care of me; yet he forgets about all the love and energy that went into those meals I prepared for us at home. He thinks I didn't care that he came home at 5am because I didn’t complain; he fails to realize that I didn’t complain because I DO care. He thinks that Valentine’s Day is a stupid reason to buy me a gift; but he doesn’t see that his refusal to display his affection regardless of the reason is what’s really hurting me. Sometimes fellas, you just don’t understand how much it hurts when you do things that we as women typically identify as STUPID. We reason that men don’t call, or say thank you, or say I love you, or buy a $5 box of chocolates on v-day, or show that they care until it’s too late is because they are stupid. And you think it’s stupid that women think all men are stupid. The truth is, y’all are stupid! You just have to think with your emotional mind to be capable of seeing it :)
Disclaimer: Of course I recognize that all men and women are not the same, and there are some men who are more emotional than women, blah blah blah. Note the use of words such as "tend" and "generally" in this note, and please refrain from starting arguments about assumptions and stereotypes in the comment section - please!?! THANKS!
He thinks you two are just “kickin’ it”. She thinks it’s time for an official label.
She thinks the sex was about two bodies becoming one. He thinks you were both just enjoying some sexual gratification.
He thinks when he says it’s over, it’s over. She thinks he’s only saying it’s over because he loves me.
It’s obvious. Men and women are pre-programmed to think differently. As people, we must strive to modify our innate thinking patterns in order to become the best we can be.
Men think logically, that’s a good thing.
You’ve heard it said: women tend to think emotionally first, then logically, while men think logically first, then emotionally. So who is most likely to get hurt in relationships? Women of course! We tend to allow our emotional investment to precede logic and reason. Why would you become so emotionally invested in someone who’s just “kicking it” with you? Men generally don’t do that – the reason they tend to emerge from relationships virtually unscathed, leaving the woman to wonder how he could just turn and become “so cold”. Ever consider that he didn’t turn and become cold? Maybe he was never even warm. Why? Because he thought with his logical mind, and logically it makes no sense to get all emotional about someone with whom you have zero commitment. When we step back and reanalyze our circumstances with our logical minds, we frequently discover that our thought patterns were irrational and delusional; our reactions appear unreasonable and hyper-emotional. Unfortunately, by the time we get to this point, it’s too late. We have already shed a number of unnecessary tears, bargained beyond the point of self-respect, and damaged the friendship we’ve established with “that dude” through our toxic words and actions - which he indubitably perceives as pure ridiculosity and foolishness. So as women, how do we overcome this? First, we must accept that as women, we are delusional and hyper-emotional by nature (acceptance is the first step to recovery!). Realizing that our visceral responses are frequently based on emotional thought processes, we have to find a way to pump the brakes and give our logical minds an opportunity to take over. I often joke around and say, “the number one rule in relationships: shut the f*ck up.” In order for that to make sense, I really should expound upon that idea. What I really mean is FIRST shut up, THEN think logically about what has happened, try to see things from both perspectives, determine the true value of the relationship to you, and tailor your response accordingly. Men lack the necessary machinery to process emotional complexities. When women express their grievances with emotion, men frequently have difficulty interpreting that language, consequently become perplexed and bewildered (which they hate), and thus reason that the woman is “crazy”, thereby taking the easy way out. We’ve all been there, right? Don’t you agree that things usually turn out better when you’ve repressed your swell of emotion, and given yourself some time to think about it first?
Women think emotionally, that’s a good thing.
So by now I’m sure men are getting a good laugh, thinking “I knew it, all bitches are crazy.” Slow down homie. You love it that we’re crazy. Let me tell you why. We are the nurturers, the nourishers, the child bearers. We have been blessed with infinite powers, women’s intuition, and foresight beyond your wildest dreams. Moreover, we possess that thing between our legs which can drive you “crazy”, and thus plays a crucial role in helping the world go ‘round. You’ve accepted it a long time ago - there is no love like a woman’s love, there is no compassion like that which a mother offers, and there is nothing you would rather do at the end of a long day than be completely enveloped in the warmth of a woman’s adoration. What make a woman’s love so special? The kind of love you don’t ever see yourself as being capable of giving? She thinks emotionally first. Even though logically, self-preservation dictates she put her own needs above yours, she still considers you first. So you see, she isn’t crazy - just mystified by your propensity to fail to appreciate her despite all the consideration she has made for you. Still she suffers herself to you - frequently in silence - until the day comes when she can no longer stand what she perceives as use and abuse. She begins to think logically about what is happening. She begins to compute what you have given her and subtract what she has given you, and the math just doesn’t add up. So she walks away, leaving you confused, because you thought everything was “cool”. It amazes me the number of times in my life a man has confessed affection for me that I had no idea he harbored – especially AFTER I’ve told him “I’m done.” Many times, it’s too late for him to make it right (because by the time I’ve said “I’m done” I had probably already moved on to somebody else! lol). The window had been closed, all because he failed to interpret my actions using his emotional mind, i.e. he thought logically about everything. For example, he thinks because he always pays the bill when we go out to dinner that means he’s taking care of me; yet he forgets about all the love and energy that went into those meals I prepared for us at home. He thinks I didn't care that he came home at 5am because I didn’t complain; he fails to realize that I didn’t complain because I DO care. He thinks that Valentine’s Day is a stupid reason to buy me a gift; but he doesn’t see that his refusal to display his affection regardless of the reason is what’s really hurting me. Sometimes fellas, you just don’t understand how much it hurts when you do things that we as women typically identify as STUPID. We reason that men don’t call, or say thank you, or say I love you, or buy a $5 box of chocolates on v-day, or show that they care until it’s too late is because they are stupid. And you think it’s stupid that women think all men are stupid. The truth is, y’all are stupid! You just have to think with your emotional mind to be capable of seeing it :)
Disclaimer: Of course I recognize that all men and women are not the same, and there are some men who are more emotional than women, blah blah blah. Note the use of words such as "tend" and "generally" in this note, and please refrain from starting arguments about assumptions and stereotypes in the comment section - please!?! THANKS!
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