We were together for a year-and-a-half, and when I say together, I mean, meet-the-parents, meet-the-child together. And yes, the arrangement was every bit as unusual as it sounds, with me playing the role of lightweight step-daddy at such a young age, and her, years removed from college, coming by to visit me in my dorm room every now and then. Though I think one of the reasons we were able to last for as long as we did was because we took our age difference in stride, and enjoyed the good parts of each other.

Of course, I also learned or rather, developed, an appreciation for older women.

To this day, even at 28-years-old, when dating an older woman means something a little different than it did at 20-years-old, I still find some appeal in talking to a woman who is 30+. This is not to say younger women who are 25-and-under are any less appreciated. The older I get, the younger the women get, and the more flexibility I have to allow myself to the point where now my rule isn’t based on some arbitrary number, but rather, where they are in school. If they’re still in undergrad, I don’t date them because I don’t date women who still have dreams.

I’m kidding.

But anyway, back to the appeal of an older woman, and what it is about them. It’s honestly a lot of things, but there is this one thing in particular.

With a 30-year-old woman, everything she did in her 20′s is completely wiped away from the record, unless it happened in the two weeks leading up to her 30th birthday, for which she will have to undergo a year of intense review. Rare exceptions can be extended as far back as 27-years-old, but no younger.

It took me years to grow out of my concern for a woman’s past. When I was younger, especially around my early 20s, I did everything I could to avoid a woman who had a long history or noted reputation. Even if there was no evidence of one, I was concerned she was just doing a good job of hiding it.

With my older woman, no such concerns were there. As I met more and more women in the 27-30+ years group, and became more involved with a few of them, I noticed how much I generally don’t care about the wild time they had back in college at Spring Break, mostly because it was years ago. So long as they’re not still going to the same destination at 30, we’re in a good place.

Meanwhile, over in the land of 25-year-old and under girls, whenever we get into a conversation about the things they used to do, I think to myself, “When was that, yesterday? Last week?” Their Spring Break stories are still fresh, they just happened. I can’t deal. I’m thinking not enough years have gone by and I could be totally wrong, maybe they got it in before they were I don’t know, 21, but still. A woman who is 25 and under is still living the life the woman 27 years and older wants to write about.

Of course, now some women who are under 25 are already taking offense. They probably think I’m implying they are a lot more loose than the women who are 27 and older. Hardly the case, youngsters!

Here’s the difference between a loose woman who is under 25 and a loose woman who is 27-30+ (to all my 26-year-old readers, consider it your year of transition): A loose woman under 25-years-old doesn’t believe she is who she is, whereas a loose woman 27-30+ owns her looseness. Both groups of women know where they’re from, only one group knows where they’re at.

Of course, let’s take loose women out of it,  so I can avoid the whole “Why we gotta be loose, Jozen” questions. Let’s just talk about both groups of women in general.

In my experience, a lot of women under 25-years-old don’t really embrace who they are, so much as they embrace the idea of who they are. Everything they do is a try-out to either see if they like doing it, and when I say everything, I mean everything from certain sexual-acts to their careers. Their journey is one of self-discovery, like driving through the residential neighborhoods, speeding up one minute, slowing down the next, all because they’re concerned others are watching.

A woman who is  27-30+ no longer has any ideas of who she wants to be. Everything she does is a reflection of who she is. Sure there may be some  insecurities all because they’re at this age where they thought certain things would come into fruition and they still haven’t, but at least they know where the insecurity stems from. There are no illusions of grandeur from them. They’re able to blend an appreciation for what they have with a strong desire for what they want.

As I’ve gotten older, and met more women who are younger than me and women who are older than me, I have generally learned age is only but a small factor in the equation. The other thing I’ve learned: No matter how old the woman is, she is probably going to disagree with everything I just wrote.

Women get out of pocket, sometimes in extreme ways, and I’d be lying if I said I never took it, you know, there.

When I was in first grade, a girl came up to me and teased me while I was standing against the wall all the bad kids stood against. I kicked the girl in the knee and told her to get away from me. She told on me, the teacher told my mom, my mom told my Pop, and he subsequently whooped me so bad, I’ll put it like this:  I was in first grade when I received the butt whooping. I’m 28 now and as I am writing this, I just winced.

Needless to say, it set me straight, but what really made me understand just how wrong it is for a man to lay hands on a woman is when I saw it occur in my own family.

Without saying too much about those I love, and out of respect for  their privacy, I won’t get into details of the things I saw. But for years I have wished for a hole deep enough for me to bury those memories in because they have scarred me for life. Yet sadly, they have not been enough to keep me from making two more small mistakes of my own.

I pushed two women who were my girlfriends at the time, once in college and once post-college. No marks were left and it doesn’t matter why. What matters is I should have remembered those moments I witnessed those I loved most being hurt by bigger, stronger men. Instead, in my own moments of rage, I acted like those men who to this day I still hate. Even if what I did to those two girls wasn’t nearly as bad, I sure acted just as idiotic as they had.

I am speaking on this now because of an article I read  the other day on The Root, written by Sherrilyn A. Ifill. The piece, — ‘Nobody Really Knows What Happened.’ Yes We Do — used the Chris Brown/Rihanna scandal to speak on the much larger issue of domestic violence. (For those who did not know, October is actually Domestic Violence Awareness month.)

The gist of Ifill’s piece is how even though people like to say women are often times the catalyst for such events to occur, it doesn’t make it right. To prove her point, she cites some well-qualified hard data and that’s what truly saddens me.

I understand why men like writer Jimi Izrael want people to understand domestic violence is a two way street, and I’m not writing this piece to change anyone’s mind, but I need to speak my own.

No man who defends hitting a woman should be ridiculed for his point of view. All of us, women and men alike can imagine some extreme circumstance in which the fairer sex might deserve a fresh one. But that’s all just good old fashion table talk.

For me, No amount of statistical evidence needs to be given to understand how wrong laying hands on a woman is. The stats I have compiled in my own experiences are just fine and they go like this:

One hundred percent of the time I or another man lays his hands on a woman, a woman is hurt physically or emotionally, and sometimes both.

One hundred percent of the time I or another man lays his hands on a woman, the man ends up the bigger idiot.

This is what I told myself the last time I felt like I had a justifiable cause for laying my hands on a woman.

The same woman I pushed last, is the same one who for other reasons I will not get into, completely and utterly trashed my apartment. The damage was so extensive I actually had to call people in for repairs and clean up, both of which cost me a pretty penny. Never before did I want so badly to inflict physical pain on a woman. Never before did I have a better reason. But by then I already learned my lesson. If I did so much as push this woman again, I would be doing nothing more than acting like a first grader.

Even I know that last fact is 100% true.

Should I go to her place or let her come to mine?

Now, before I get into the debate and weigh the pros and cons of both, let’s establish some criteria so we don’t get caught up in semantics.

• The woman and I live equal distance away from their current location.
• We live alone or our places are empty for the weekend; no parents*, no** roommates, no children***.
• Both of us have our own form of transportation so we’ll be following one another. If we don’t have cars (in New York City this is common) we can cab it together.
• Neither of us are busy the next day.

With those things established, we can now get down to the nitty gritty of the topic, which basically comes down to this: Where do I prefer the action to take place?

HER PLACE

PROS: There is a strange but fulfilling feeling I get when I leave a woman’s place that I don’t get when she leaves my place.  If I don’t feel like staying around after we’ve blessed the sheets, I can just get dressed and make moves no matter how late it is. And having that ability makes me feel like I had control of the situation all along, even if that wasn’t necessarily the case.

CONS: Some men don’t care, but for me, there are few bigger turn-offs than a woman with a messy place. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem doing the grown-up on a pile of a laundry, but once the show’s over, I pray the clothes are clean, and if they’re not, I’m gone. I’ll just wash up at my place. Thanks.

MY PLACE

PROS: Three words: Home. Field. Advantage. For some reason, I’m always better in my bed than her bed, at least in the beginning. I also know where everything is, and more importantly, everything I need is within arms reach. Few things are as liberating as not only knowing where the condoms are but also not being at the mercy of the woman’s stash of condoms she picked up from the local Planned Parenthood.

CONS: I’ve let women leave in the middle of the night and I’ll be honest, it’s not something I’m proud of, even if they’ve volunteered to leave themselves. Every man has at least one particular code of chivalry they abide by no matter the circumstances, and for me, I always let a woman ride it out until the night turns to day. Unfortunately, if they want to stay and they’re annoying me, I’m all types of pissed off until sunrise and I will never call them again.

I’m also uncomfortable with the idea of a woman knowing where I live. If they’re intoxicated they might not remember, but if they do remember, and they actually committed the location of my residence to memory, she probably has stalker tendencies.

FINAL CHOICE

HER PLACE

I may perform better in my own bed, but my road record is good enough where I’ll take my chances. Where I live and how I live where I live is not a top secret government location, but it is personal.

The other thing is, control. At my place, I’m in control of my environment but not necessarily in control of the person who’s in my environment. At her place, she’s in control of the environment, but I’m in control of me, which means I can leave when I want. I just hope she didn’t get her condoms from the Planned Parenthood.

What do you all think?

————————————————————

*No, I don’t live with my parents

**No, I don’t have roommates

***No, I don’t have children.

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.

THE SUN DRESS

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.

BEATERS AND JEANS

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.

FINAL CHOICE

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.