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Archive for August, 2009

Stories: "She Just Passes Out"

August 17th, 2009 24 comments

– Friday 08.14.09

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…”

Categories: Stories Tags:

Things A Woman Should Do #2

August 14th, 2009 11 comments


Football season is here, which means it’s time for me to get religious on Sundays. Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you I am a huge Pittsburgh Steelers fan (though I’m not from Pittsburgh, my dad is), so whenever I’m dating a woman during football season, I make it very clear: Root against my team and consider us done. I’ll call you in the off-season.

To me, there is no bigger slap in the face than when a woman purposely roots against a man’s team. I’m perfectly fine with a woman having a team of her own, if she’s rooted for the team her whole life. But if she’s the type of woman who never really paid attention to my three favorite sports (football, basketball, and baseball), and never had a team, then she needs to be on my side.

Now, I have heard some women say it’s fun to root against their man’s team because if his team is losing they think it’s sexy when he gets all angry.

It isn’t.

Let’s say I’m watching a movie with my woman about a man in love with two women, one named Joan, the other named Jessie, and my woman is pulling for Jessie, wouldn’t I be an asshole if I was rooting for Joan? Even if I thought Joan had the better body, and the better face, and looked like she was better in bed, out of respect for my lady, I would still root for Jessie because I’m no dummy. The last thing I want to hear is my woman tell me, “Oh, well you can have Joan. As a matter of fact, call her right now, see if you can sleep her in bed tonight cause you’re not sleeping in mine.”

Consider this your warning, ladies: Men want our women to root for the team we’re rooting for. Period. And if you don’t, we just might go sleep in Joan’s bed. At least until the off-season.

Categories: things a woman should do, women Tags:

Your Friends Aren't Fine, You Liar

August 13th, 2009 12 comments

Just once, I would like a girl to tell me the truth about her friends. Seems like every time I ask a woman I’m dating what her friends look like, her default answer is “Oh, my friends are all beautiful.” Then we go to Facebook so I can judge for myself and my woman’s talking about, “Oh these just aren’t good pictures. You have to meet them in person.”

Girl, no I don’t. I’ve seen enough.

Why do women lie about their friends? Never have I had a girl look me in the eye and tell me, “My girls aren’t that cute. One of them is okay, but the others? Nah.” My guess is girls are just trying to be nice and don’t want to say anything bad about them, but for the sake of being nice, they’re lying to me, which is unacceptable and immediately sets back all the progress we’ve made in our trust exercises.

Guys, on the other hand, don’t speak about their friends in the form of opinions. Instead we tell women the facts about our boys. For instance: I use a height scale because the thing women look at on a man before anything else is his height. So usually all I have to say is, “tall”, “short”, or “about my height” (6′ in the morning, 5’11 by 8 p.m.), then from there my woman will decide whether or not he’s worth introducing him to one of her friends.

Women should start doing the same thing, but since we don’t care about height as much, they should modify it to their own experiences with their girl.  The next time a man asks a woman about her friend, the woman should tell a man what really happens whenever she goes out with her friend. If I ask my woman about her best friend and she says, “Whenever we go out, my best friend gets all the attention at the bar. She hasn’t bought her own drink since ’04,” I gather her best friend comes as advertised. If my woman says something like, “I think she’s pretty, but whenever we go out, guys don’t really talk to her. She’s mostly into online dating,” I know the weather is, at best, partly cloudy.

Hopefully, ladies start utilizing this technique instead of the traditional bowl of hyperbole they’ve served about their girls since the days when SWV – an early 90’s R&B trio of three average looking women – made it acceptable to roll in a group of acquired tastes. Until then, everything a woman says about her friends will be verified on Facebook. Thank God for Facebook.


Your boy is featured on today in a Battle of the Sexes with his homegirl, Demetria Lucas, ESSENCE relationships editor and  host of the great blog A Belle in Brooklyn. Go there now and read our back and forth on when a woman should pay for a date and when a guy should pay for a date. Then, applaud that.


Categories: Uncategorized Tags:

Don't Worry About the Pretty Girls

August 12th, 2009 7 comments

Yesterday, the Top 5 email group I belong to was forwarded an article on how accomplished, smart black women are less likely to be married, more likely to be divorced, and basically lonely. The men dismissed it, and thankfully so did the women. Not only was the story and topic old hat, but all of us were through believing it. (If you want, you can waste your time and read the article here)

You can give me all the statistics in the world. Throw numbers at me like the Lotto. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need a study to tell me what I see firsthand. Most black women I know are not lonely and I know A LOT of black women. (Just check my Facebook page). If they’re not with me, they’re with some other guy, and if they’re not with me or another guy, they’re with their girlfriends. Sure, some go through their fits of being single, but lonely? That’s reaching.

Let’s take, for instance, my wish list of black female celebrities I would want to holler at if I could. Here they are in no particular order.

Tyra Banks
Status: In a Relationship

Status: Married

Halle Berry
Status: Practically Married

Janet Jackson
Status: Single

Keri Hilson
Status: Single

You see? The majority of them aren’t even available, and these women are very successful. As for the other two, Janet just got out of a very long relationship, and is a divorcee. For her, not having a man is not nearly as big of a problem as having one. And Keri Hilson…well, does she even look like she wants to be in a relationship?

For those who believe these numbers, Michelle Obama would like to have a word with you. For those who want to get into semantics and point out how the study is talking about marriage and not just monogamous relationships, my rebuttal is this: Most women I know are not pressed about getting married as much as they’re pressed about meeting the right man.

Maybe the numbers don’t lie, but they don’t tell the whole truth either. And while I can’t speak for every single black woman in the United States, I do know enough to know a lot of them are good. But maybe the reason why I am having a hard time taking these numbers seriously is because I know too many beautiful black women?

I say this not to flatter, but to echo a point one of the men on Top 5 made, which is the next time someone wants to do a study on the number of black women married or in a relationship, show pictures of the women polled. Successful but unattractive black women may be having a problem, but successful, unattractive women no matter what race they are have the same problem. Successful, pretty black women on the other hand, are lockstep with beautiful women of all races. They’re either married, in a relationship, or chilling with their girlfriends and hopefully talking about guys like me.

Categories: women Tags:

The Hardest Woman to Hit On

August 11th, 2009 12 comments

Last week, I went to my local Bank of America to make a transaction, and of course, the woman helping me out was a solid 8 out of 10. I don’t know what it is about banks, but all my life, there always seemed to be a disproportionate number of pretty women standing behind the counter, screaming, “Next in line!”

Now, I’ve approached women in a lot of different situations, but bank tellers? These women require an entirely different approach, and here are the two reasons I believe this to be true.

Reason Number 1: Let’s say I am so lucky to get the beautiful teller of the day during a quiet hour in the bank. No one’s in line behind me, and I just so happen to look the part of a well paid gentleman (before I had direct deposit, this was usually the case, because I’d go on Fridays after I got a haircut, which always puts me in the winners circle).

I walk confidently to the teller’s post, make sure to smile, and ask her how her day has been before I do what I came to do. She says she’s doing well, and smiles back.

I make more small talk with her, and we strike up a brief conversation about how slow days are always the good days. She’s still smiling.

We get down to business and I hand her the check I’ve come to deposit. She’s still smiling.

Then, I give her my account number, and she sees the amount I currently have in my account. She’s. Not. Smiling.

See? How am I supposed to ask the teller if she would like to go out sometime, when she sees the balance I had before I made the deposit is the same number as the cost of a McDonald’s Extra Value Meal?

This is not to say female bank tellers care about how much money a guy has in his checking and savings. I actually find most women who work behind the counter at banks to be very nice, and I’m sure if I met them somewhere outside their work place, we’d get along just fine. But this scenario I just described has actually happened to people before. Specifically me.

Now for some men, reason number 1 isn’t the issue. More power to them. But if it’s not the first reason, then it might be this next one.

Reason Number 2: The truth is, most of the time we go into banks, it’s never a quiet day. A bank without a long line is like a bank without cash. You’ll never see it.  For some reason, the fine woman behind the counter is one of only two tellers on duty. The greeter can only greet. The manager can only manage.

Meanwhile, all the people standing in line behind me forgot their patience at home, and moan loudly if I even think I of asking another question.  So what do I look like trying to close a deal to keep in touch with my teller under all that pressure? The last thing I want to happen is the customer behind me, who’s on their lunch break to yell out, “Hey Romeo, some of us have a job to get to today!”

It could just be my own hangup, but I honestly believe, these are the two reasons the female bank teller is the hardest woman to hit on. Maybe one day I’ll get up the nerve to ask some fine bank teller to write her number on the back of my statement, but until then, that’ll be all for me today.

Categories: women Tags:

Stories: "Are You Gonna Try Me?"

August 10th, 2009 16 comments


It was a good two weeks since I had seen *School Girl, so when she opened the door, I walked in, gave her a hug, and I kissed her.

That last move was not allowed.

This was the first time we were seeing each other as “friends”. Two weeks ago, we decided it best for us to just be friends after existing in a gray area since the Thanksgiving holiday. So when I saw her this past weekend, our kiss was a form of habit. There was hesitation on both our parts, but it happened, and I knew then, this visit was going to be an exercise in killing an old habit, and as we all know, old habits die hard.

Back in her bedroom, lying on her bed, we revisited the conversation we had two weeks prior; the one that put us in the friend zone. I also tried to make out with her several times during the conversation.

What can I say? Some people just get into my system.

She resisted, and back and forth it went for a good ten minutes before she said, “Maybe it’s that the honesty we used to feel was respectful, now feels disrespectful because our feelings started changing.”


I moved back, taking my mouth away from her neck. She had a point, a point so good I just had to give up on my advances.

School Girl and I saw other people the entire time we were seeing each other, a fact neither of us hid from one another. But even though our situation hadn’t changed, our feelings had. They grew. So now, we were stuck with idle feelings, where two people are into each other, but don’t do anything about those feelings. In our efforts to be cool about everything, School Girl and I were left feeling cold.

“You’re right,” I said. “Maybe we just need to stick with our decision to be friends, because if we go back to the gray area, we’re probably going to have this conversation again two weeks from now.” School Girl nodded in agreement.

Still, I liked spending time with her, and even though her bed wasn’t big, I always enjoyed my time in it, even if we weren’t doing anything. Much like the physical aspects of our relationship, her place and all the furniture in it, was in my system, so I had to ask her, “Can I still sleep over from time to time?”

“Are you gonna try me,” she asked with a quizzical look.

I looked her dead in the eye and with a smile said, “Yes. Are you going to turn me down?”

“Yes,” she deadpanned.

“Then we shouldn’t have any problems,” I laughed.

Then, we took a nap. What can I say? Old habits die hard.


* I call her School Girl cause she loves books.

Categories: dating, Stories, women Tags:

DEBATES MEN HAVE: Beaters/Jeans vs. Sundresses

August 7th, 2009 15 comments

Back-to-back fashion related posts? Yeah, I know, but bear with me as I try to get into a rhythm and flow on my new blog.

Today’s debate  is about what summertime wardrobe staple do I prefer to see on women. Is it a wife beater or a sundress?

I posted this debate to an email group I belong to (whattup Top 5 Fam!?), and as I recall, most of the men responded with the beater and jeans combo over a sun dress. Last night, the homie Jen commented on my dress shirt blog (scroll down to read) and also suggested women should wear one of their man’s beaters. But while I was at Essence Music Festival last month, I saw so many Sun Dresses, I went home and immediately invested in fabric.

As Summer slowly fades to Fall, I have decided to take this debate to my blog before both of these styles fall out of season. Read my pros and cons of both and find out which one I prefer whenever a woman asks me to pick.


PROS: Few outfits are as respectable as a sundress. Whenever I’m walking around with a woman in a sundress, I always notice how other men are more inclined to give thoughtful comments and head nods instead of yelling out, “Hey, Miss Lady! You don’t want him! You want me!” They also are a time saver. When a woman knows exactly what sundress she wants to wear, she just has to pull it over her head. And for the women who have great bodies, a well-fitted sundress wears like a piece of art on her body.

CONS: The attitude that goes along with a sundress. I’ve met plenty of nice women wearing full length sundresses, and various other outfits. But I haven’t met plenty of stuck-up women wearing anything else but a sundress. Someone will have to explain to me why every bourgie woman I meet is wearing a pair of flats and a sundress. My guess is it’s the nationally-recognized uniform for all bourgie women in the Summer months. (In the Winter, the uniform changes to long coats.) The other con about a sundress is it helps a woman lie. Every woman looks better in a sundress than she does in something else, and they often conceal certain flaws. So fellas, be wary of the follow-up date with the fly girl in the sundress you met at the barbecue.


PROS: Whereas a sundress gives a woman confidence, the beaters and jeans combination is only worn by women who already have confidence. To me, a woman in the B&J combo is making the following statement with her wardrobe selection: I’m fine and I wish you would disagree with me. Usually, she’s right. The woman in B&J is also usually low maintenance and not about making a big fuss over anything, including her own appearance. The Beater and Jeans combo tells no lies either. Everything a woman has or doesn’t have is revealed in the B&J combo.

CONS: Just like sundresses, a woman wearing the B&J has an attitude; except, it’s usually not with me and other males. It’s with other females. Now I’m not saying every woman rocking B&J likes to get into a fight, but every fight I’ve seen between two girls has involved one woman wearing a B&J, and that’s a pattern I just can’t ignore.


The Beater and Jeans, for me, is a winner. Granted, women in sundresses look heavenly. But the woman wearing a beater and jeans looks down to earth, which for me is the number one attribute of any good woman. Let her add some hoop earring as an accessory, and I’m telling you now, I fall in love, if only for a moment.

But hey, that’s me. Ladies, which do you prefer to wear? And fellas, which do you prefer to see the ladies wear? Discuss.

Categories: debates men have, women Tags:

Things A Woman Should Do #1

August 6th, 2009 10 comments


Hey, ladies, do me a favor. Wear a dress shirt. And I don’t mean one of those women dress shirts they sell at the Gap. I mean one of mine. Not to work. Not to run an errand. Just around my place. It doesn’t have to be everyday either. Just a couple of times a month, preferably after sex.

I love this. Other men love this. Seriously. If you don’t believe me, just ask them right now. Go ahead. I’ll wait…

SEE?! I told you.

Women, Unemployment and Me

August 6th, 2009 9 comments

Yesterday, at the end of my post about the deal I made with women (scroll down to read, “The Deal I Made With Women”), I mentioned that I put myself on a dating sabbatical until I found a job. (I lost my job as an editor at VIBE on June 30, the day the company shut its doors, and that’s all I will say about that.) The rule is as follows:

Jozen will not take any woman he meets while unemployed out on a date until his ass gets a job. Women who knew him when he had a job will still, on rare occasion, be taken out to eat or something.

As I type, I’m explaining this to a girl I met recently who I planned to see upon her arrival back in town. Unfortunately I forgot the rule and though she isn’t upset that I’m canceling whatever previous plans we had, her initial reply was I didn’t have to worry about not having a job to take her out because her career is filled with extended periods of time spent between gigs and she understands.

What she doesn’t understand (but I kindly explained) is my not taking a woman out on a date has less to do with my own hubris and more to do with my pocketbook.

Maybe it’s because we’re seeing the highest unemployment rate in 26 years at 9.5 percent, but for the past couple of months, I’ve met a lot of women who aren’t getting too caught up in whether or not a man has a job. Ladies know even the best of men are losing their jobs in these tough economic times, so that “Must Have Job” item on their “Things A Guy Must Have” list is probably written in pencil as opposed to the others written in pen, such as “Must Have All his Teeth.” And while it’s great to know a woman isn’t going to write me off just because I’m living off the government, I never instated this rule because I have issues with a woman making more than me or working when I’m not. Lord knows I don’t have a problem with either of those things, word to Stedman Graham.

The reason I put myself on a dating hiatus until I find gainful employment is the same reason I’m going to cancel my HBO On Demand subscription. Both of them are luxuries I currently cannot afford. I love new women. I love HBO On Demand. But both cost me money I don’t have, so for the sake of being frugal, HBO On Demand and new women must go. I wish I could say there are some deeper reasons for this rule, but there really aren’t any.

There is, however, a loophole. After all, no rule I put on myself would be complete without a loophole and my no-dating-until-I-get-a-job condition does have one. It goes as follows:

If Jozen should meet a woman during his time of unemployment who wants to take him out on her dime, he is not only allowed to go, he must go. Mama ain’t raise no fool.

Categories: dating, unemployment Tags: ,

The Deal I Made With Women

August 4th, 2009 10 comments

I was always hesitant to start a blog about my dating life, largely because I wasn’t quite sure of a way to make it true-to-life without being anonymous and as a person who writes by profession, I care very much about using my name. I tried the whole pen name thing once, back when I was blogging at KING Magazine’s website (RIP), under the alias of Huey P. Langston. But the burden of carrying on the alias was too much, so I decided to claim my words.

After KING, I went to VIBE (RIP), where I also blogged using my real name. I even put a picture of myself on display! But when I was there, I didn’t feel it was the type of place to host a blog about dating or relationships, so I attempted to focus on music related posts only.

Now I’m on my own, and I’m finally able to do the blog I want to do, though there was one dilemma. How was I going to be able to talk about the women who are probably going to have roles in a lot of my future posts without getting them offended or upset?

What I came up with were four basic rules I promised the lady friends in my life I would abide by. They were as follows.

  1. No Real Names: I know a lot of guys (myself included) who have this weird unwritten rule where they will never refer to a woman they’re seeing by her real name unless they really, really like her. Usually I just refer to a woman by some kind of association like where she’s from, what she does for a living, or where I met her. Other times we may reference a physical feature or verbal tick she does. So if she’s the type to scream really loud in bed, I’d say to my boy, “Yeah, so the other night, I was hanging out with Screamer.” And he knows exactly who I’m talking about. For the sake of this blog and a woman’s privacy, I will be employing this same technique, but now it will be applied to every woman I refer to, even the ones I would take home to my mother.
  2. No Intimate Details: Just because I call her Screamer doesn’t mean I have to tell people why I’ve named her such. Because I’m a gentleman, the intimate details I share with a woman, no matter much comedic fodder they might provide, will not be divulged.
  3. She Knows First: It’s quite simple. I tell a woman how I feel about her and our situation before I say anything about it on this blog. I’ve promised every girl I am dating or seeing in some capacity that if I have anything to say about her or us, she will hear it from me first. THEN, she might read about it on the blog.
  4. I Must Man Up and Tell Her The Truth: I’m not above telling a white lie here and there in order to avoid the drama honesty can sometimes cause. But if I want the women I’m involved with to read my blog (and I do) than I have no choice to be up front with them about everything and everyone else. It took me a long time to man up and start telling women that I’m not into tennis and our situation isn’t just about me-and-her. It’s more like football, baseball, basketball, and any other team sport. She’s on the team, but there are others too. I’m not cruel about this, and I don’t say such things with a little man standing behind me to make sure my mink doesn’t hit the floor. I just tell them the truth because I have found if a woman wants to play with you, she’ll join the team, no matter the sport.

So there it is, people; the four conditions under which I will abide by toward any and all women I involve myself with while we’re dating. Fortunately, I won’t be putting much of this into practice, seeing as I’m currently unemployed and have refused to go out on a date with any woman I’ve met post-unemployment until I find a new job, for reasons I will discuss in my next post. Until then, these are the rules.


Categories: women Tags: