I don’t know if it’s apparent to anyone, but I’m not one of those men who dog marriage. I actually am a big fan of it; think it’s a beautiful thing, just not my thing for now. Do I think men who get married are absolutely crazy? Yes, but only in a good way. When a man decides to take those vows, I look at him the same way I look at the man who goes sky diving, in awe.
Having seen a couple of my closest friends take that next step, I have come to realize how beautiful matrimony can be and how hard it can be. It’s nothing easy, and none of my friends who have done it make it look that way. If anything, seeing them act as husbands is always a reminder that I should continue to take my time.
Sure, I’m as much of a man as any married man is, but I’m definitely nothing like them. And they are nothing like me, which is why, whenever I hang out with one of my married friends, we don’t roll like I roll with my friends who are not married.
I read an article about how Christina Aguilera is struggling to make a comeback because she is mimicking Lady Gaga, and I disagree.
Christina Aguilera’s main issue is she’s a mom. Click here to read more.
Sometimes, we don’t meet in the most convenient way. The initial introduction is a fleeting moment in which we’re left with nothing more than some contact information. In the immediate future, our only option is to keep in touch, so we do.
We email, we text, we Skype. We talk on the phone, check in with each other on AIM or Gchat or Facebook. We do it all, just so we can go beyond the fleeting moment that initially brought us together, because when we meet good people, we want them to stay close. If we can’t have that, we start closing the distance with our minds, thinking of the person as though they aren’t that far, and therein lies the potential for problems.
Something I wrote about Magnum condoms forced me to throw modesty aside for the sake of conversation. Click on the story and feel free to comment there.
“The Real Issue With Magnum Condoms”
Only the best of men will be able to relate to today’s post. A man gets around enough, he knows what the spontaneous sleepover feels like the next morning. It’s kind of like a hangover: Proof of a great night, with a side of slight inconvenience.
What was supposed to be a quick visit or run to go pick something up, can turn into an adult slumber party. The next morning we come home in the same clothes we wore the night before, to a television that’s still on and a half glass of orange juice. Sometimes we feel ashamed, sometimes we’re proud, all of that really depends on the girl whose place we were at.
But sometimes, the inconvenience of rising early in the morning to get home is passed in favor of other inconveniences. We’d rather stay a while, if she doesn’t mind; especially if she’s cooking breakfast. But in order to do so, sacrifices must be made. We weren’t planning on spending the night, and frankly, she wasn’t planning on having us, but things happen, and so here I am, chilling at her place. But umm, first, five things of hers I might need to use.
Check it out, folks. My first piece for Russell Simmons’ home, Globalgrind.com.
“The Case for the Ever So Funky Solange Knowles”
Please comment there, and as always, thanks for the love.
Eventually, the question always comes up. Have I ever cheated? And I always give the same answer: Yes.
Then, from there, the follow-up questions breaks off into one of two directions. Either she wants to know more about the times I cheated or she wants to know why I cheated. To both questions, I try my best to answer without over-explaining, but rarely do I ever avoid falling into such a trap. Because I’m a natural talker, I always end up giving the who, what, where, when and whys of what happened. And usually that is when suspicion begins to creep into the mind of the woman who asked me the question.
Check out the review I wrote about “The Losers” in which the only thing I really review is Zoë Saldana and how good she looks with a gun. Click here to read.
The rules are the rules.
No talking. No checking in. Maybe a holiday and a birthday, but never a phone call, only a text. There’s no Facebook. No Twitter. No online chatting. No emailing.
Day-to-day business, I don’t need to know. Week in, week out, what are you up to? None of my concern. The rules are the rules. I understand them. I follow them. But the other day, I was thinking, what if something big, good or bad, happens? Am I to know? Won’t you tell me?
Probably not and that’s fine. I understand. The rules. I remember.
But please remember this: