Death To The Heartbreak Kid
She sidled up to my left and said “Hey” but it was drawn out with an infliction of affection. More like, “Haaaay.” I smiled and put my arm around her, thinking we were all good. She ducked, said “!*&%&(@*!!” then poured the drink all over me in front of hundreds of people.
This happened Saturday night, at a party. I didn’t overreact, but I did grab her and took her out a side door, down some stairs, so she could finish telling me off in front of a security guard who was there to make sure she didn’t smack me. I listened to her and didn’t give much of a response.
When she was done we went our separate ways, her upstairs, I to the bathroom to assess how wet I looked. As I looked in the mirror I thought, ‘Not too bad, at least this didn’t have cranberry juice like the last drink I had thrown at me.” Then I too went back to the party, hoping no one would stop me to say they saw what happened.
Once back on the dance floor, the party went on as usual, the woman who threw the drink at me was nowhere in sight, and I did my best to get back to having a good time, but alas, I couldn’t. Twenty minutes later I left the party. No one saw what happened (at least no one stopped me to tell me they did) but I was too embarrassed to party on.
I recalled the incident the next day on Twitter and people asked questions like whether or not I deserved to have a drink thrown at me or why she threw think drink at me in the first place. But I didn’t answer either question. This was nothing new to me, a woman throwing her drink at me.
The first time it happened years ago, and I learned then, whether or not I deserved it isn’t going to dry my shirt off. The reasons both women threw drinks at me are their business, and calmer heads have since prevailed. I never asked why they did what they did, because I always knew why. Come to think about it, I have never even been upset when a woman has snapped on me, at least not for the snapping she’s done. Someone has to be the cooler in the situation, and usually that person is me. But without fail, every time I have driven a woman to madness, I always come away embarrassed, even if nobody saw what took place.
Make no mistake about it, I’m not admitting I’m guilt to anything I’ve done so much as I’m acknowledging each girl who has gone off on me had their reasons and I was aware of those reasons. There is a big difference between treating a woman bad and not treating her the way she wants. Besides, reasons are relative. For as many women as I know who went off the deep end over something I did, I know just as many women who wouldn’t have lashed out in such a way. So I don’t get embarrassed over what I did to deserve something like having my apartment torn up to the point where I had to call in a cleaning lady to help me get my place back in order. What is embarrassing is I knew all along there was this side to her, and instead of being the fire extinguisher, I was the fire starter.
I have a thing for women who come with extra crazy sauce on the side. They don’t make me worry as much. A lot of women need that side to them as a way to defend themselves against all the crazy things men do and say to them when they’re out in the world trying to make it through the day.
But another reason I like to date a woman with some crazy in her is I like being the calm in her storm. I not only welcome the challenge, I relish in it.
There’s nothing cool about making a woman go crazy. Make enough women go crazy and that’s what you learn. Even if she tells you she can get crazy, making her so is not your job and if you do, you can’t shrug it off and say you found her that way. When you first met her, you made her smile, now you’re making her into some sort of Lifetime movie character, that’s not all her fault and you have to be man enough to admit it.
The thing about any woman going crazy over you is you did it. You said something or you did something and sure you can say it’s not that big of a deal, but it doesn’t change the fact that you did whatever it was that drove her mad, and if you have any sort of love for that woman, you’re embarrassed. I’ve seen men do some foul things to women, and I can always tell the ones who got caught, because when they see the damage they caused, they usually regret what they did. They’re not sorry they got caught, they may not even be sorry for what they did. What they’re sorry for is they knew better and they went through with it or said it anyway.
We have a tendency to romanticize the heart breakers of the world, but I’m convinced those who do such a thing never broke a heart in their life. I’ve broken someone’s heart, I’ve disappointed people, and there’s nothing romantic about it. If you ever made a woman cry, and it wasn’t cause you were chopping up some onions to cook her dinner, man, you either failed on purpose or you failed on accident. Don’t worry about why she’s crying, she’s crying and it’s because of you, so fix it, then ask questions.
One thing I’ve learned since my step-dad came into my mom’s life is a real man, though not perfect, should never be the impetus for his woman’s crazy clinic. My step-dad is the coolest customer I know, before my mom met him, she was pretty much the opposite. But he’s calmed her down not only through his transference of his calm, collective energy but also because he’s brought her a certain type of peace. I’m sure my mom gets mad at him from time to time, I’m sure he’s not without flaws, but he’s not driving her crazy, and I’ve seen men do that to my mother. I hate those guys still for what they did, but here I am driving women to waste their good liquor by throwing it on my shirt?
Well if those are considered badges of honor, I’d like to give them back. What happened on Saturday was a sobering moment. It made me realize I don’t want to be that dude making a woman crazy unless it’s the way Beyonce´was talking about. A real man isn’t driving his woman crazy, so much as he’s calming her down.