Until I Get Married

“You are this dramatic character I couldn’t of made up in the wildest corners of my imagination.”

I don’t know if the woman who said the words I wrote above meant them as a compliment, but I took them as such and I’ll never forget them because that is what the best compliments do. They stick to our skulls like Post-It notes, reminding us why we’re great or important or unique or special.

Compliments, unlike gifts, are always better to receive than to give. Giving a compliment, as writer Tom Chiarella writes in his Esquire article, “The Perfect Compliment”* is hard. So hard in fact, sometimes it’s not even worth giving, which is something I suggested in the post I wrote yesterday**.

But receiving a compliment, a true, genuine compliment is as good as finding money on the street, if the amount of money were over $20. And if it comes from a stranger, than it’s going to take $50 to match that feeling, because compliments from strangers always sound like good songs we haven’t heard in a long time.

Thinking about compliments and what they mean to us, begs the question, what are some of your most memorable compliments?

Below are some of the most memorable compliments I have ever received from  strangers. Check them out and then, if you can, write a couple of the best compliments you ever received in the Comments section.

On my writing, a young kid once told me…

I’m trying to write like you, man.

On the way I look, a girl working the door of a party I went to by myself once told me…

As cute as you are, you’re by yourself? Where you gonna be? Soon as I get done with these names, I’m buying you a drink.

On my work ethic, a father and his young son were eating at the restaurant I worked for in high school. The father points to me and says  to his son…

You see what he’s doing right there? Watch him work because that’s how you should work when you have a job.

On my intelligence, the editor-in-chief of a major men’s magazine once told me…

I’ve met a lot of people. You’re one of the smartest.

So there it is folks, some of the most memorable compliments I’ve received. There are plenty more, but I’d rather hear yours. Go!

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* I can’t find it, but you should try to find Tom Chiarella’s article, “The Perfect Compliment” on Esquire.com

** The post I wrote yesterday: “Why I Look At Her”

I will never stop looking at other women. Not ever. I don’t care if I’m married, in a relationship, or if the woman I’m looking at is married, in a relationship, and walking down the street with Her man. If she’s fine, I’m looking at Her, at least for a moment. Here’s why:

Because I’m a man. Because she’s a woman. Because I can see and I see Her and I promise, I won’t stare at Her, just a quick look at Her. Because she is wearing that dress, that’s fitting Her right or because she is wearing them jeans and they’re fitting Her better than the dress. Because Her walk in those jeans or in that dress is really what I’m looking at.

Because she is not my woman, but I’m wondering who’s woman she is,  until I finally see Her walking to Her man. It don’t matter. Her man knows like I know. She’s fine. Because Her man, was once like me, staring at Her, not knowing Her name. Shit. If he was me, he’d see Her like I see Her right now. Fine.

Because fine, Her kind of fine, is universal. I know this. Because I saw Her fine self walk by a group of dudes the other day who were standing opposite my side of the street. Because we, those guys and me, don’t do the same things, don’t like the same things, at least that’s what I thought until we saw Her, walking across the street, from my side to theirs and when she did we both stopped doing what we were doing. Because we were watching Her and even though we didn’t speak to Her, could not think of anything to say to Her, it didn’t matter. Because in our heads, we were saying fly stuff to Her and she was loving every minute of it and by the end of our game, the one we was spitting in our head to Her, we had Her number.

Because in reality, neither me nor them boys across the street, or any other man for that matter is going to say anything to Her.  Because we can’t quite find a way to get the words in our head to come together out of our mouth, and speak to Her. Although, there are those men who do say something to Her. Try to compliment Her. Because “Damn baby, you look good!” and “If I wasn’t married, I’d marry you” just might be the words she’s been waiting to hear. As for a guy like me, I just look at Her and say nothing.

Because I might already have Her at home or Her on my arm. So when I look at the other Her, don’t get caught. Be subtle. Because Her on my arm might catch me and say, “Oh, you want to be with Her?” And I’ll tell Her, Baby, don’t be ridiculous. Then I will apologize because I got caught.

Because maybe it was a little disrespectful to look, but I don’t think it was that wrong. Because I think Her, the one on my arm and the one I just got caught looking at are both fine and I have to think: If the one I had on my arm was the one I looked at, would I want to trade Her for the one I looked at? Fuck it, I say to myself. Because thinking that hard just confused me and I don’t have to think about Her, who is not mine. Just look at Her, and next time don’t get caught.

Because I will see Her again, some day, maybe tomorrow, and I will look at Her, but I won’t say anything, whether I’m single or in a relationship, with my woman or by myself. I will look at Her. Because I am a man and sometimes just looking at Her is the only compliment I want to give.

For the record, I watched four football games this past weekend, three from the NFL and one college game before I sat down last night and watched the three-hour pop culture fest that is the MTV Video Music Awards. Manhood intact.

Needless to say, the only thing that was even close to the drama of the VMAs was the overtime game my beloved Pittsburgh Steelers won in the first game of the season last Thursday. But last night, MTV outdid itself with one of the most memorable award shows I have ever seen.

Instead of doing a traditional recap like you’re probably going to read everywhere else, I have decided instead to focus on five women who made me want to “shake the shit out of them”. Word to Chris Rock*. Here they are.

5. Woman: Madonna

Reason She’s Getting Shook: Ever since her introduction to the Michael Jackson tribute I have been trying to erase the anecdotes of her and the King of Pop together out of my mind. It has not worked. Not only was I left feeling uncomfortable by her story of their date night, descriptions of his legacy like, “boys fell in love with him” were flat out inappropriate.
Click here to watch Madonna’s tribute speech to Michael Jackson.

4. Woman: The female Lady Gaga fans.

Reason She’s Getting Shook: Going on and on about how “fabulous” and “different” Lady Gaga looked. The woman performed in what looked like a tu-tu and then splashed blood on her so it looked like she was performing while on her period. And yet, women were all over my Twitter talking about, “OMG! I LOVE LADY GAGA”. Yeah, I really wanted to shake the shit out of these women, and I’m sure any man who was watching this with their woman last night wanted to do the same thing if she was going nuts for Gaga.
Click here to watch Lady Gaga perform “Paparazzi” live.

3. Woman: Jennifer Lopez

Reasons She’s Getting Shook: I’m no fashion expert, but I know when a woman has lost her thunder just by the clothes she wears. Back in the day, J. Lo used to show up in outfits like this, looking like the only underwear she owned were thongs and G-strings. Now she’s showing up so plain, it’s not even worth me digging up a picture. What happened to her? It’s as though she got her dress from the new Vow of Chastity line. Jennifer Lopez used to be fine, now she looks as sexy as a woman with two kids who almost never gets to go out. Wait a minute. That’s exactly what happened with J. Lo.

2. Woman: Lil Mama

Reason I Want to Shake Her: All I have to say is, 5:08. 5:08.

1. Woman: Kanye West

Reason I Want to Shake Her: I know this is not something any man should call a woman, but Kanye West was a bitch last night when he jumped on the stage in the middle of Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech. I don’t even like Taylor Swift, now I feel like I have to because otherwise, the next brotha she comes across, she’s going to feel like she has to hold her Moon Man tighter. I write more about this today in my article for TheRoot.com entitled, “Kanye West Does Not Care About Taylor Swift.” Read it, enjoy, then trade in a Kanye West album for this.

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Click here for context on the Chris Rock quote

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Today, I’ve decided to touch on a different topic, but if you would like to read yet another one of my takes on relationships, click on the piece I wrote for TheRoot.com. “Why Jay-Z Should Rap About Marriage”

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I didn’t need to be any closer than I already was to understand the magnitude of what took place on September 11, 2001.

I was actually on my way to my part time job at Pentagon City, the shopping mall neighboring the Pentagon, when I heard about the World Trade Center attacks and then, the plane flying into the Pentagon. Admittedly, the first thought I had was how my commute into work that morning would be affected, because I was in a rush to get to Sam Goody (where I worked) and buy a copy of Jay-Z’s The Blueprint on my employee discount.Then I turned the TV and that’s when I knew, I wasn’t going anywhere.

Being so close to one of the three places that were attacked on 9/11, I knew the tragedy of the day’s events would forever change me. I knew I would never forget seeing the smoke rising across the Potomac, never forget the calls of worry from friends and family all day, never forget the sound of my brother’s voice who lives in New York and was one of the citizen volunteers helping people to safety at the World Trade Center that day. For me, what happened on 9/11 was life changing. It was enough.

But three years later, the date of September 11 would take on new meaning.

I just moved to New York, two months prior, adjusting to life after college when on September 11, 2004, my Uncle Jeff was murdered in his hometown of Hayward, California. The end result of a fist fight my uncle won and his killer couldn’t stand to lose.

Five years after my uncle’s murder and eight years after America’s most horrible tragedy, I find myself overwhelmed with the magnitude of both events, and what it means to be an American, in these days and times.

We talk a lot  about the War on Terror and Homeland Security, about terrorists from overseas who want to do us harm. Ever since 2001, these things have understandably been a concern for many of us who live in this country.

But what gets lost in the sauce is the terrorism we reek on one another, the kind of terrorism my Uncle Jeff fell victim to five years ago when he was killed at point blank range by a man my age. In our pursuit of enemies abroad, we can’t lose sight of the enemies at home, which is not to say my uncle’s killer was against country. I trust that’s hardly the case. But when you’re so angry at another man that you can take his life with no remorse, your enemies are from within. You’re angry at not just someone but something. And like so many others who wander our streets, angry with the cards they’ve been dealt, my uncle’s killer reacted to that anger by taking a life that did not live an ocean apart, but probably blocks away.

Trust me, I want talk about homeland security, but can we talk about the whole thing, and how we need to not only be aware of the enemies who come from outside of our borders, but also those who want to do harm within them? Can we talk about the war on terror, but also include the terror we inflict on each other? Invade countries like Afghanistan, so we can feel safer over here, but understand that over here, things aren’t entirely safe.

This may be selfish of me to wax poetic on. After all, it’s been said that on 9/11, we’re all New Yorkers, Washingtonians, and passengers of United Flight 93, which crashed in Shanksville, PA. But on September 11, I am both a proud American and one who is ashamed by what I see going on in our streets everyday.

For me, the lessons I learned on September 11, 2001 and September 11, 2004 both boil down to one thing, which is this: We have to care about it all.

Dear Girl Who Was In the Middle of Having Sex With Me When the Gospel Song Came On,

I apologize for the gospel song that came on the radio while we were in the middle of having sex. That was awkward, wasn’t it?

You know it wasn’t my fault, but you were right. I should’ve never left the radio on during the Quiet Storm/Love Jam hour, knowing they always play at least one song about our Lord and Savior.

My Bad,

Jozen

P.S. In case you forgot the song that came on, click here.

P.S.S. This happened years ago but I apologize to God about this everyday. Trust me.

If there’s one question men love to ask during sex, it’s “Who’s your Daddy?”. I don’t know when it came to be so popular, or even how, but I always thought it was a weird question to ask, even though admittedly, I have.

But when I have done so, I am always worried what the woman’s response is going to be, especially if she’s someone who’s family history I’m not too familiar with. My thinking being, What if her real dad is like Bill Cosby’s Cliff Huxtable and they have a great relationship and she stops, turns back around to me and says, “No. You are not my daddy. Your name is not [insert fictional strong, male first, middle, and last name here]“? Then I take into account how the woman feels when she has to say the man she is riding on top of in reverse cow-girl is her father and the troubling implication I am sleeping with my daughter, which is not only disgusting, but illegal too.

All that being said, I am announcing that from this point forward I will no longer ask for the title of ‘Daddy’ during sex. I do not want to be a Daddy to anybody outside of my future children.

Still, what fun is sex without the sporatic requests for a title of some sorts? Just because I don’t want a woman to call me Daddy doesn’t mean I don’t want to be called something. So, I am in search of a new title I can ask a woman to bestow on me the next time I have sex. Here are five I have listed so far, and though some of them may sound ridiculous, I’m going to try them all, and you should too because remember, not even curse words sounded right when we first said them.

5 Titles To Be Called During Sex Instead of Daddy

Title: MANAGER
Example: Who’s your manager?
Why this works: She wants to get off, she has to go through the manager.

Title: PROVIDER
Example: Who’s your provider?
Why this works: A provider functions like a Daddy, without the creepy relative innuendo. Use this on a woman who has a fondness for big words.

Title: AGENT
Example: Who’s your agent?
Why this works: You’re representin’, just like a good agent always does.

Title: KING
Example: Who’s the king?
Why this works: What man doesn’t want to be king of something? If I’m putting it down, best believe I’m asking who’s the king.

Title: COACH
Example: Who’s the coach?
Why this works: Dominant types should really gravitate towards this one. And as my girl Blackie Collins pointed out to me last night, there’s room for spin-off coaching positions here such as, “Who’s your Offensive Coordinator?”, which is something you would ask if you’re scoring them points on her.

In all honesty, every single one of these titles are quite ridiculous, but then again, that’s sort of the point. I always knew I was really putting it down when I could make a woman say pretty much anything during the act. So, sure, even though she might not be put off by the term Daddy, I’m breaking away from all the parent talk and going to make her call me something else. Maybe start with, “Who’s your Agent?”

Here’s a little fact about me that may surprise some: I’ve never had a threesome.

I say this not to be funny. I’m serious. I have been having sex with one woman at a time for years now, yet, never with two at a time.

So what gives?

Well, for starters, people who have had two partners at the same time are a rare, rare breed. Don’t believe me? According to a sex survey ABC’s Primetime Live did five years ago, only 14 percent of the adults surveyed actually experienced a threesome*. That number has probably changed since its inception, but I highly doubt by much.

The way I see it, these numbers prove true a theory I have always had. The privilege of being with two women at the same time comes down to one of two things:

1) A lot of luck

2) A lot of money

Since I have too much pride to buy my way into being a member of Three Phi Some (the name of the fraternity  I have given to all who have had a threesome) I’m going to need luck to join, and thus far no such luck has flown my way, which is sort of not really okay with me.

Obviously the main reason I want to be with two women at the same time is because I get double the fun of what is already one of the most fun things to do in the world. But the other reason I want to be piloting a two-woman rush is because of the bragging rights that come with being a member of Three Phi Some.

For a man, there are two things he remembers. The first time he’s had sex with a woman and the first time he’s had sex with two women. Most men get to experience the first, but the second? They named a movie after those guys entitled, A Few Good Men.**

Whether a man becomes a member by accident or on purpose, pulling off a threesome is the bedroom Lotto – to win it is rare. Especially for a man like me who has too much pride to chase down two women who look like they might be the type to tag me in. I don’t even know what women who do such things look like. I just know from the guys who have been lucky enough to get into the frat, most of them have admitted it was a matter of dumb luck. So while am I patient for my turn to be pledged into Three Phi Some, I do sometimes feel like the last person picked in a game of street ball, especially when I meet women who are members.

“Have you ever had a threesome?” is one of those questions I never ask a woman, largely because if she hasn’t, she might not want one. After all, what kind of woman wants a threesome and actually hasn’t had one? The kind who either lacks effort or the kind who can’t seem to find a man and a woman who find her sexy enough to lay down with. That’s who.

Now,  if the woman says, Yes to the question, my next question usually is, “Well, do you want to do it again? With me?” Unfortunately, the answer is usually, No, followed by some excuse as to how it was a one-time-only type of deal. Then, my next question is, “Well, do you want to make it a two-time deal?” And they usually say no to this too.

What gives? That’s my third question, but I usually keep it in my head. After all, I don’t want to make the woman feel like all I care about is having a threesome, because it’s not (one day I will do a post about lying).

The truth is, I’m patient. Having a Threesome before I get hitched isn’t exactly on the top of my priority list. It’s just written in bold.

With asteriks around it.

And three lines underneath.

Like this:

***HAVE A THREESOME***
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*Click here to read the American Sex Survey by ABC News

**It should be noted, the actual movie, “A Few Good Men” isn’t really about men who have been in threesomes, just the title.

Dear Ex-Girlfriend who took me to the strip club for my birthday,

I apologize for the $30 ATM service fee they charged at that one strip club, to which I forgot the name. We should have left the moment we saw that shit pop-up on the screen.

I know I didn’t make you go forth and withdraw money, and I know it was my birthday, and I know I used it too, to get cab fare just so you wouldn’t feel as bad (trust me, I apologize to myself everyday). Still, $30? What were we thinking? Instead of saying, “It’s up to you,” I should have just grabbed your arm and said, “Girl, they’re crazy. Let’s get the hell out of here.” But I didn’t and for that, I apologize.

My bad,

Jozen

Like millions of others, I watched Larry King’s  incredible interview with Chris Brown, his mother Joyce Brown, and his attorney, Mark Geragos on CNN last night, and I have come to the following conclusion: Brown is only sorry he beat Rihanna as badly as he did and the punishment he has been given is some lightweight wrist-slapping.

Watch the video, and check out the early part of the interview where Brown actually has the nerve to think about his answer when asked if he feels his punishment is fair. If I were Chris Brown, not only would there be zero hesitation in my answer, I would also praise Jesus at the end of my response. Like this:

Larry King: Do you think your punishment was…

Me: Yes! Yes, Larry, I do think my punishment was fair. Praise Jesus!

But instead, Brown hesitated. He actually had the nerve to ponder whether or not his punishment of six-months “hard labor” and a five-year stay-away order from Rihanna was fair. He, Chris Brown, who according to his lawyer last night on CNN, still gets to tour around the world if granted permission by his probation officer, actually said, “Uhhh” when asked if his punishment was just.

Initially, I thought Brown’s punishment was fair, especially because he copped to his crime, but watching him on Larry King last night changed my mind. Aside from picking up trash, the occasional meetings with his probation officer, and one-year of counseling he is ordered to attend, Chris Brown with permission, will still be able to be Chris Brown — performing at shows with thousands of screaming female fans, hundreds of which will probably be waiting for him backstage after the show.

As Chris Brown made clear last night, he’s only 20-years-old. To say the punishment he must endure for his crime is going to teach him never to lay hands on a woman the way he did on Rihanna is not only silly, it’s highly unlikely. So what’s something else he can do, if not hard time, to aid him in his rehabilitation process? How about take away the one thing he, and all men love, celebrity or not? Take away the privilege of having a girlfriend and mandate a court-ordered vow of celibacy for one year, the length of his counseling

I know this may sound crazy, but follow me.

Part of Michael Vick’s condition for being reinstated in the NFL is he can’t own dogs. Makes sense, right? I mean, the man was convicted of dog-fighting, so why should he able to own any canines? When men are convicted of sexually-abusing children, they must register as sex-offenders and stay away from them at all times. See how this works?

Brown is neither a dog-killer and definitely not a child-molester, but he beat that woman like she was a man and he needs to learn why, for the most part, this is entirely unacceptable. Maybe 180 days in jail (the stiffest punishment he could have faced), would’ve been too harsh because jail is a horrible place for any man, but I’ve talked to men who have been to jail and you know what they miss the most behind bars? Women.

Chris Brown has a ton of women at his disposal, fine ones at that, but he shouldn’t be allowed to sleep with or get into a relationship with any of them for one year. Don’t cut off his access to women, just give him the order. Let him have women-only concerts if he’d like, but don’t let him bring one of them onstage for a serenade.

As Method Man says on Mary J. Blige’s song, “You’re All I Need”, Nothin’ makes a man feel better than a woman. Brown knows this, which is why, under his current sentence, the minute he steps off stage after a performance, and sees a woman who’s willing to act like she’s never heard of Rihanna, all he’s learning in counseling will become undone. Seeing his own mother suffer abuse wasn’t enough to keep Brown from doing it, and now, with the entitlement of celebrity clouding his vision, the task of teaching Brown a lesson is even more difficult. No man can learn his lesson when a person is saying in one ear, “It’s wrong to beat a woman up,” and a woman is saying to him in the other ear, “Beat it up, Chris.”

Of course, the issue is how does one even begin to monitor a person’s sexual activity, especially one of a celebrity? The answer is you don’t, you just give Brown consequences for violating the conditions of his probation. Put him in jail if it is revealed he did have sex with a woman.

If I was told the consequences of having sex with a woman was a year in jail, I’d immediately go to Costo and buy a huge tub of Vaseline. No sex or relationships with a woman for one year versus living behind bars with a building full of hardened criminals is an easy choice for those of us who aren’t idiots.

Oh, wait, I forgot. Chris Brown is an idiot.

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Click here to watch Larry King’s interview with Chris Brown and company.

Click here to read Jayson Rodriguez’s article on the details of Chris Brown’s sentence.

Click here to read about the details of Michael Vick’s reinstatement into the NFL

Because I’m having a bad case of writer’s block today and I actually forgot to add this to yesterday’s post. Here it is.

So you know the minute you get out here and step foot into my apartment, I want your clothes off. Don’t waste time. Be naked, wet, and ready before we even get to my room. We shouldn’t even make it to my room. I’m taking you on my couch and I am going to tear you up. I hope you’re ready…

Context: Said by accident to the mother of my ex-girlfriend, who picked up her cell phone just to say hi to me.