When I thought about it, perhaps it wasn’t fair for me to tell the men in my sister and mother’s life to be better men than I. After all, they are still men, which is short for imperfect human being. To put on them a responsibility I haven’t even been willing to do myself, is unfair and somewhat fairly hypocritical.
So I have been thinking about it and I figured out exactly what it is I really want, aside from the obvious good treatment of my mother and my sister. I want my Mom and my stepdad, my sister and her boyfriend, to stay together. Stay together for their entire lives.
Today I have some more thoughts about the dilemma I wrote about last week.
In thinking about this whole, being-too-busy-to-be-in-a-relationship phase of my life, I realized there was one truth no one will allow me — or anyone else who makes this claim — escape, and that is this: We make time for the things we value most. As much as I would love to argue with this counterpoint because I thoroughly, absolutely hate it, I can’t act like it isn’t true. As my boy pointed out to me, last week’s dilemma I wrote about is only true if I don’t want to be in a relationship.
Well, I don’t think I am opposed to being in a relationship. As a matter of fact, a relationship would be cool right now, but all I can do right now is date one type of woman and that woman is the type of woman who is too busy to be in a relationship too.
So in case some of you haven’t been paying attention, I have been very busy as of late. Lately my life has been nothing but office hours, deadlines, word counts, and not much of anything else. It’s actually gotten to the point where I can’t remember the last time I fell asleep on my pillow because I keep falling asleep on my laptop.
I’m not complaining though. It’s work. And having not had a job for months, trust me, the complaints about a job are far better than the complaints about not having a job. But I’m not going to act like all this work hasn’t stressed me out. It’s affected damn near everything and as grateful as I am for the blessings of a cool job and the opportunities to write for numerous publications, the other night I was struck by a thought I never had in my life:
For the first time ever, I may be too busy to be in a relationship.
All women are different. All of them. I have dated a lot of women in my time and never once was one woman just like the previous one. They’re all different. They are different sizes, have different voices, said different things, looked different, acted different, walked different, said my name different.
As a matter of fact, I can honestly say, the only thing that makes women not different from each other, the one thing that makes me say, “This woman is just like the last woman I dated” is the woman who tells me she’s different. Soon as she says that, I automatically put her in this big box of women and on the box it says “SAME”.
In her defense, she told me before we even went out on our first date. It was kind of like a warning, but I didn’t take it that way, more so like a challenge. She was a virgin and she was going to remain that way until she was married. Having known my reputation for liking sex (which isn’t even really a reputation so much as it is a stereotype, accurate and true), she wanted to give me an out, but that’s not what I wanted.
I wanted in. Not in a physical sense. The challenge I saw was not to break this girl down and make her change her mind. I just wanted to be close to this girl I had my eye on for months, and was curious to see if I could actually get to an intimate connection that goes beyond sex. So I accepted these circumstances and I gave it my all, as a consequence, this is what happened.
Ladies, it’s okay to make a man wait for sex. Go ahead. Women should wait until they’re comfortable with the man they’re dating before they allow him access to the goods. I can respect it. I can be patient. If I like her, she can take as long as she wants to take.
But here’s the thing. No, wait, as a matter of fact, five things, just so we’re clear, because all of us, men and women, have our comfort zones. She has hers. I have mine. So take notes ladies, read through them, and make sure to remember them: Five things I’m not quite comfortable doing with her and won’t be doing with her until she does IT with me.
The only time my mom ever complained to me about this blog was once in the early months. She asked me why I make so many references to being drunk or drinking when I don’t drink that much. I told her it just happens to be the case that when I go out, the two things I see a lot of are drinks and women. And since most of my stories are more of the casual variety, a lot more of those times when I was drinking and people were drinking around me will come up.
But her question was valid considering I’m not a big drinker. I don’t even own alcohol at my house. There’s one Corona, that’s been sitting in my refrigerator for months. I’m especially not a big day drinker, as a matter of fact, I kind of hate it. The only reason I ever drink is so the woman I am with doesn’t drink alone, and even then, I sometimes decline anyway, thus making me look like a jerk. After all, who lets a woman drink alone? Well, I do. Sometimes. But if I had it my way, she wouldn’t drink at all or only on special occasions.
Before I go any further, understand this is not a defense of last Friday’s post. That is what it was and it will remain that way. But I do feel, for the first time in a long time, some clarity is necessary, so here it goes.
Before I get into today’s post (apologies for the tardiness), feel free to check me out at Glamour.com today. Rosemary Brennan sat down with me to discuss this here website you all faithfully read. Thank you all for the support, because it’s how opportunities like these happen. Link is at the end of today’s post.
I’ll never forget this one night my boy and I went out to this club. That night, I was his wing man as he was getting to know a pretty girl who was out with her girls. By the end of the night, the girl was a little intoxicated, but not sloppily and nonsensically so, and all she wanted to do was take my boy back to her place.
Meanwhile, the girl’s friends were trying to stop it from happening. That’s when I had to step in like a referee. As the girls protested saying they didn’t know my friend, I decided to make introductions to the whole group. Then, remembering all of their names, I told each of them (there were three total) to call this number right away. The number was my number. I told each of them to put their first and last names, then I texted them with my boys number. Told them to call his number.
And why was I doing all of this? Because this is what good wingman’s do, they assist their boys. And what do “good” girlfriends do? They act difficult and try to block their friend’s good time. Bad girlfriends. Bad.
I remember last year, a particular night when I was back home for the holidays. My boy and I decided we would go out to this club — or what qualifies as a club in the little old Monterey area where we were raised — and find some trouble to get into with the opposite sex.
A couple hours passed by, a couple drinks were drank, then my night was ruined. I ran into someone I didn’t expect to run into. It was my sister’s boyfriend.
He wasn’t in the crowd like me. He was actually on the outskirts, talking and socializing with club security, which made sense since he is the size of a guy who works club security. But for the rest of the night, my attention went from all the ladies in the place with style and grace, to a man the size of Biggie (geez that was corny), the man who is now the father to my niece. And though he remained by club security, not really giving any women any kind of attention, I couldn’t help but watch his every move. Even after we exchanged pleasantries. Even as the club closed, I wasn’t going anywhere until I saw him go back to his car.
And I realized then, I don’t trust men very much.
Here’s a question for all the ladies out there who have that one guy friend they think of like a brother…Well, wait, before I even ask the question, let’s dispel of the notion that the guy who is “like” your brother is a brother or related in any way by blood for that matter. He’s not. He’s a best friend. The guy who has been there when boyfriends weren’t….Now do all the ladies reading know who I’m talking about? Okay, good. Now here’s the question:
Why not sleep with him?
I understand “best friend sex” is one of those unwritten laws no one should violate, but we all know at some point, a man will be a man, and he will try his female best friend. And for all the men who have already done this, or have yet to do so but probably will anyway, their advances will probably be met with side eye city. So for them, I have taken it upon myself to be their representation.
Below, the five reasons why she might want to sleep with her best friend.