Tonight, I’m going to a storytelling slam in New York City and I asked one girl if she wanted to come with me. She said she couldn’t because she has a meeting to attend, which means I have to go with plan B.
The B stands for Bymydamnself.
Solo missions are hard to do and only for grown folks. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of going anywhere by myself until I was at least 26, and for me, it was one of the great discoveries of my adulthood.
When I go out, I tailor my company to the event. For instance, the woman I asked to accompany me to tonight’s storytelling slam is the type of woman who is actually into such things, and while I’m sure there are other women who would want to go with me, I’m not about to take my chances. If there’s a new barbecue restaurant I want to try, why would I take the vegetarian? If I have two tickets to go see the Wu-Tang Clan Reunion at S.O.B.’s, why would I take the girl who listens to nothing but R&B?
Backup plans are for people who have dependency issues, and I got rid of those back in ’07. If I want to spend time with a woman, she’s my preferred choice. The other options I have are for other occasions. Unless I’m in a relationship, there is no way I’m wasting my time or the woman’s time by going somewhere we can’t enjoy equally. And though that may sound harsh, at least every woman I date doesn’t have to worry about me bringing someone off the bench just because she can’t play that night.
(Of course, if the date is in my bed, I will sub another girl in. No questions asked. Ha!)
As for my boys? No stand-ins for them either; and since they don’t live in New York City, I’m often left to my own devices, which makes me feel like I’m David Ruffin from The Temptations without the drug problem.
I can count the number of times I’ve been approached by a woman when I’m with my boys using my hands, but if I wanted to count the number of times I’ve been approached when I’m by myself, toes would have to be involved. Not to say I look different in either situation, I look the same. The difference lies in the way women respond to my confidence.
When I’m with my boys, a woman can’t tell if the confidence I have is coming from my crew or from within (for the record, it’s a mix of both). But when she sees me by myself and sees I still have my chin held high, she knows I come as advertised.
Of course, I’d be remiss to not say how great it is to go out with others. As much as I’ve enjoyed my solo jaunts, not one has ever been as much fun as a great date or a night out with my boys where a lot of liquor and loud music was involved. All I’m saying is if neither one of those options are available, or the company doesn’t fit the occasion, I is cool.