Until I Get Married

Man Seeks Girl Friend

Jozen — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 13:50:39 +0000

Mentally, the break from writing has been good for me. I needed to not only relax my writing chops, but also my brain; I needed to think about life, what I need, what I want. All this work for the past month had me in a tailspin of sorts; had me thinking crazy things like, I need a girlfriend.

I actually was thinking that’s what I needed. A girlfriend. Can you believe that? Then I thought I was too busy to be in a relationship, which sucked because for years a girlfriend for me was never an issue. If I wanted one, I got one, and I don’t mean to make it sound like I would just pick one off a lot. I’m just saying, finding a woman to be in a relationship with has never really been an issue, until it was when the work started piling up.

But eventually, by yesterday when I was thinking about what I was going to write about for the first time in like five days, I finally came to a breakthrough of sorts. I realize exactly what I need in my life from the opposite sex and I’m happy to say, it’s not sex (although that is great), it’s really just friendship.

This past weekend, I used a woman. She is a friend of mine who came to visit me for the weekend and I told her the second day here that I was using her. But I wasn’t using her for sex or money or some other trivial reason. I was using her for what I can only describe as her comforting presence.

I’m not one of those guys who does well with female friendships. I’m actually quite bad at them because I find they are quite demanding in a lot of cases, especially if one let’s their female friend down. Whenever I flake on my boys, there’s never hard feelings, but let me not come through for a woman when she needs me and I know there’s a good chance we’re not friends anymore for like, two weeks.

But I find myself watning to change that about me, and being a better friend to more women so in return I can have more women friends. Before my friend came to visit me this past weekend, another good friend of mine back home came to visit me with her sister about three weeks ago. I remember telling her the second night she was here how nice it was she came out to visit, and though I was talking about her and her sister specifically, I also know it was a much needed dose of estrogen in my place.

We all know relationships take work, so when I was speaking about being too busy to be in a relationship, I don’t think I meant it as some blanket statement where I was too busy for females. I’m not too busy to hang out with a girl, and actually I would love to do it more often because I think the balance of a female presence is the thing I was missing most in my life.

The way I was spending my time, it was either by myself or with my boys, and don’t get me wrong, I love to do both. My boys are like my lifeblood and the time with myself allows me to work towards my goals with a clear head. So what can a woman do for me?

Well, take a look at the comments from the previous two weeks when I was writing about this busy life I was living. A common refrain I read from my female commentators was I need balance. They were saying life is more than just about a career, and though they were understanding of my passion to succeed on the work front, they were reminding me that life is more than deadlines and word counts. Those were the kind of things I needed to hear.

When I hung out with some of my female friends, it was a relief to talk about something other than work. My friend who visited me this weekend didn’t hear me talk about work much at all. Actually, I’m pretty sure the only time she heard about it was when I was talking to (who else?) my dad. Meanwhile, the conversations with my mother have been about me taking the time to go back to church twice a week and I even talked to my sister briefly who sent me pictures of family and asked me how I was doing outside of work. Speaking of my sister, a story:

I remember earlier this year, when she was pregnant, I had lost my valid ID and needed to get a new one. Thing was, my expired license was serving its purpose. I don’t drive in New York City (I am licensed to do so in California), so all I really need my ID for is access to 18-21-and-over spots so I could review shows and attend industry functions. Because my expired license was getting the job done, I was in no rush to get my ID and not only that, the process was going to take me away from my job for too many hours, so I kept on putting it off. Finally my Mom, for what seemed like the 100th time asked me if I got my new ID. I told her I didn’t. She said, “You know your sister says you need to hurry up and get your ID. She said, ‘If he wants to see his niece, he needs to get a legal ID so he could get on a plane.’”

I was at the DMV the next day.

See? The women, once again, reminding me about the other important things in life.

So I’m just going to admit it here and now. I need a girl friend. Not a girlfriend. A girl friend. Sure, maybe it can grow into something more, as I definitely still apply certain standards to my female friends that I do my girlfriends, namely that they remain superficially attractive because a great deal of my female friends are and I just can’t relax my standards on that front. But yeah, a girl friend would be nice. Someone who will let me use them and use me in return not for sex nor for money, just for fun.

Via The Root

Jozen — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 20:11:14 +0000

Just wanted to drop this off real quick, then going back to my break. Expect to see a lot more of my other writing posted on the blog, as I sort of fell off.

Enjoy this piece I did with Esperanza Spalding. She is arguably jazz’s biggest star right now, which means she’s still very underrated. Click on the title to be taken to it.

The Root Interview: Jazz Bassist Esperanza Spalding on Taking A Big Risk

And On The 300th Post, He Rested

Jozen — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 14:26:24 +0000

Everyone in the comments section has been telling me to take a break because all I’ve been doing is writing about how busy I am. To show I do read the comments and I do take some of what they say to heart, I will follow the advice given by most and take a break until Tuesday, September 7. Originally I wanted to start today off like every other day, but when I noticed I was at my 300th post, and thought about the awards I won (again thank you all for that), I figured I can take a break, right?

Folks, please understand, this is not easy to do at all. It’s not that I care about my numbers going down or taking a hit; I don’t even read my numbers. That’s Jermaine’s job. Nor is this about writer’s block, because any real writer knows the only cure for writer’s block is to write through it, not stop writing.

What this is about is peace of mind and listening to the advice of the people who care about me the most. So what I’m going to do is rest. Well, I’m also going to party. But yeah, rest is essential too. I need it and frankly, I want it. So, outside of this podcast I may record tonight, and maybe a post with some of the work I’ve been doing elsewhere, don’t expect to see the 301 post from me until next Tuesday. In the meantime, enjoy the archives, and your break from me. You all deserve it too. HA!

Until I Get Married,

Jozen

Winner: Best Readers Of A Blog And Other Awards

Jozen — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 18:19:56 +0000

It was just announced today, Until I Get Married won the popular vote in the category of Best Sex and Relationships Blog, Best Personal Blog (an honor shared with my friend and career girlfriend, Demetria Lucas for ABelleinBrooklyn.com), and what is probably the most flattering honor, Best Writing in a Blog.

All three wins were through popular vote, meaning I literally could not have done it without you all. They should have a category for Best Readers of A Blog so I can find a way to pay you all back. You all are the best, and so my first thank you, goes to everyone of you.

Best People: The Readers of My Blog

I know it sounds cliche, but I never started this blog to win an award. As everyone knows, I just wanted to write and for that writing to be read by others. When I started UIGM a little over a year ago, my only hope was to create a blog people would enjoy reading. The awards prove this relationship not only still exists, but it’s reciprocal. I appreciate that.

I also appreciate all the different types of people who read my blog. The women, the men, no matter their race. I know the awards I won are the Black Weblog Awards, and they are given out to the best Black bloggers (since 2005), but I would like to think this isn’t a black blog. It’s not even really a relationship blog. It’s more like a blog about life, mine specifically, and I have always cared about creating something anyone could relate to in some way or another. I don’t care what color my readers are, I just want you all to enjoy it and relate to it. This here is a human experience, and I’m more than happy you all enjoy it enough to come along on it with me.

So thank you readers, you all are the best people ever. Now if you don’t mind, since I also did win Best Personal Blog, I have some personal awards I would like to give.

Best Family

My mom who must cringe sometimes when she reads this blog, but reads it everyday. My step-dad Ian, who does the same. My sister who once scolded me for a blog I wrote not about her but about this one girl and probably says, “EWWW” after reading certain other things I write. A lot of people read this blog and think about me as some guy who lives in this big city, but you all know me the way I prefer to be known, as a son and a brother. When I didn’t have a job, and this blog was all I had, not once did you all say I was wasting my time. Instead, you all supported me and encouraged me to keep it up. Not enough words in my lifetime will be written or said to accurately sum up and express my appreciation.

Best Friend(s) And Best Business Partner: Jermaine

One of my best friends, and the guy who has put in all the work nobody sees. Jermaine is the reason you can email me at jozenc@untiligetmarried.com. He’s also the person who puts up with all my crap; the first guy who tells me to slow down and the first guy to tell me step my game up. Without him, I know I wouldn’t have gotten this far and with him, I know I’m going to get further.

Best Crew and Sharing The Award for Best Friend(s): The Deacon Board

I won’t put your names because you all have warned me time and time again if I print any of your names, you’ll kill me. But yeah, thank you. You all read and support my blog even though you don’t have to, because we know our bond is deeper than the blog. ER especially yesterday, in your last minute Facebook campaign to get everyone to vote for me, I appreciate you almost sacrificing your account on my behalf. From the hard times (RIP Trey) to the good times (every single weekend you all come to NYC), you all have my back and tell anyone who will listen about my blog. I appreciate that more than anything. Cobra, baby.

Best Email Listserve: Top 5

Top 5 Dead or Alive. All of you, thank you. I owe everyone of you a drink the next time I see you. Beer crawl soon?

Best Mentor: Danyel Smith

I have quite a few mentors in the game, but I’m going to single out Danyel because she was the very first person to comment on the very first post I wrote. Danyel, for those who don’t know, was my boss at VIBE during my second stint there. Since our time working together has ended, she has remained a great friend and a great mentor who has shown nothing but love for the work I create here. Go read her Tumblr, and not just because I said so, but because it’s pretty much the best thing on the web right now.

Best College To Be An Alumni From: Howard University

From what I hear, a lot of current HU students read my blog. Thank you. And from what I know, a gang of alumni do too, including folks who have probably been reading my work since my days at The Hilltop. Thank you to you all as well. Awwwww HU!

Best Girls: The Ones I Write About

Thank you. There are two sides to every story, and I appreciate those who have let me told my side and never asked me to take it down. There is not one girl I write about lightly. Not one I aim to disrespect or write about with any animosity. Some of you are friends with me to this day and read this blog, and some of you don’t talk to me anymore and don’t read this blog at all. But if I ever wrote about you, just know I care more than the words will ever show, and if you’re reading this now and think I’m talking about you, you’re absolutely right.

What If I Wanted To Slow Down For Myself And Not A Woman?

Jozen — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 04:25:47 +0000

Here we go again, another post about how busy I am. But this isn’t some cry for help, so much as it is a cry to help myself and if you can relate to any of this, great. Glad you can be a part of the struggle.

I can’t stop writing about this whole busy thing because I’m not any less busy than I was and it’s where I’m at with my life. I’m busy. As hell. And I don’t know how I slow down.

People keep telling me, when the right woman comes along, I’ll slow down. But why must it be because of her? Maybe I would like to slow down not for her, but, for me, and maybe I should be trying to figure out how to do that.

Two years ago, when I wound up in the hospital with a skin infection, my relationship with women came to a head. There was the ex-girlfriend with whom I remained friends, who visited me before anyone else. She was by my bedside when I woke up out of surgery. Then there was the girl I had started dating a mere week before I checked myself in, and came by each of the four nights I was there. Then there was my most recent ex who I wanted to visit me but refused to do so because, well, at that point, the wounds from our breakup were still fresh. And when I left the hospital, there was my mother who flew out from California to help me out as I recovered.

And I remember thinking how shameful it was that the only woman I could truly trust to be there for me was my Mom. All those years I spent away from my home (eight to be exact), all those women who loved me and cared for me at some point, and yet I managed not to do enough for any of them to take care of me to the extent my mother was. I felt like a failure of sorts, simply because I had these women in my life who cared about me, but all were doing so from a distance of sorts. None of them wanted to get in too deep to help me recover because they either couldn’t or simply didn’t want to or were still too busy getting to know me and thus, didn’t trust me enough to be fully invested.

Damn, I though to myself. Why can’t I be a man good enough for a woman to be unconditionally good to me?

Two years later, I’m beginning to think about that period of time a little differently. I think what I’m starting to realize is back then I was upset at myself for the wrong reasons. I shouldn’t have been mad at myself for not being a good enough man to a woman. Maybe the real disappointment should have been at me, for not being capable of taking care of myself.

These days, as I have written for the past couple of weeks, I am busy and stressed, and I know none of it is good for me. Especially as a man who just turned 29, all these things like late hours and early mornings, energy drinks and fast food diets, aren’t meant for men my age. I should have left those days behind in college, but as it turns out, my work space in my one bedroom apartment is looking a lot similar to my workspace in my college dorm room during final exams.

I want to take better care of myself, not for some woman, but for myself. All these people keep telling me it’s going to be a woman, albeit the right woman, who comes along to slow me down. And I’m not saying I’m opposed to such a thing. I would love for this magical unicorn woman to appear right before my eyes. But you know what else I would like? The self-discipline to slow down my damn self so that if she does appear before me, I can easily recognize her and not pass her up.

Unfortunately, if she is around, I have been way too busy to notice her because right now, I’m in a relationship with myself, and honestly, I am being straight abusive towards it. I’m beating myself up and not only that, I’m not even being faithful to my current self, because every now and then — or wait, let me stop lying, not “every now and then”, every freaking day — I cheat on myself.

That’s right, I cheat on my present self, with my future self. These days, I get so caught up in all the things I want to accomplish, I sometimes neglect the things I need to accomplish. Perfect example: As a man, I often get obsessed with the idea of creating some sort of legacy for some kids I don’t even have yet. Like, all these things I am doing are being done so I can be this good father and husband. Meanwhile, in the present day, I’m an uncle, and frankly, I’m doing a horrible job of that. Just because my new niece lives 3,000 miles away and can’t say a word, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be trying to talk to her on the phone and ask her do things I know she can’t do yet, like, telling her to say, “Uncle Jozen.”

But I haven’t done any of that since she was born on June 11. Instead, I have just worked and worked and worked and worked. Yes, I have gone to a few parties and even take a trip out of town, but ask my boys what I was doing while I was down in New Orleans for Essence Fest or ask my Mom how I was calling her in the mornings talking about the work I had to do when I got back. Ask my two friends who just came out to visit me what I was doing every day when they woke up? Work, work, work, work, work.

I’m honestly sick and tired of writing about this stuff, as I’m sure some of you all are probably sick and tired of reading it, but the only way I know how to get this sort of thing out of my system is if I write about. I’m pretty sure at some point, things will turn around and I’ll start writing about something else, but that time isn’t coming anytime soon as far as I can see; at least, not until the work gets done, or I figure out a way to slow myself down.

I Swear Phone Calls Have Become The New Flowers

Jozen — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 13:21:14 +0000

I absolutely agree with anyone who believes technology has ruined the traditional lines of communication. With social media, the advent of text messaging, email, and online chatting, things like hand-written letters and regular phone calls seem to be archaic.

As a result, all of us have developed our own form of communication etiquette. I know of BlackBerry users who treat their BBM like its some sort of key to their heart and will make a person work for their pin number. There was a girl I once dated who chatted online during the day, and knew I did the same, but when we decided to open up the flood gates and chat with each other, we thought it a pretty big deal, for whatever reason.

But the form of communication I have noticed is becoming prized and put on a pedestal higher than the others is the classic phone call. Maybe it’s just the women I’m talking to these days, but from what I’m seeing, it’s like, phone calls are the new flowers. Give a girl a call, all of a sudden we know how to treat a lady.

I would love to take it back to the days of middle school and high school when I actually had some time to have a 45-minute or so conversation about everything under the sun. I’m a big talker (as anyone can guess) so the phone suits me just fine, but I have to be honest, the phone call just isn’t what it used to be and that’s not a personal thing, it’s a technology thing.

When I used to talk to a girl I liked on the phone for long periods of time, it was because I lived under my parents watchful eye and couldn’t leave the house whenever I wanted to, to see whoever I wanted to. When I was growing up, phone conversations were like dates largely because I couldn’t go out on dates that often.

These days, I don’t live under my parents supervision and have the freedom to pretty much do whatever the hell I want. One of those things is actually spend time with a girl in person, if she’s available to do so. And if she is available, and I’m free to talk for like an hour, and she lives not too far from me, why would I elect to spend that time on the phone instead of talking to her face to face?

At what point did a phone call go from functional to fashionable? Why can’t I reserve the phone for times when the conversation has a beginning, middle, and end. If I ask a girl out on a date or if I’m trying to make plans with her, of course I’m choosing to call over text messaging my invitation, but if I have no plans to make I have no call to make.

The notion that just because I don’t call, I don’t care and just because I do call, I do care is ridiculous. If I call a girl to just talk for a full week after getting her phone number, and I haven’t suggested plans within any one of those conversations, she has full reason to believe I’m using each phone call as a coupon. The more time I spend talking on the phone with a woman, getting her comfortable with me and establishing some sort of chemistry, the more reason she has to believe I’m trying to avoid a big splashy first date. I just want to hang out, kick it, preferably at her place or mine. Initially, such a request might be a turn off, so how do I make it a turn on? Call her, make her feel special, and get her so comfortable with the sound of my voice that she eventually says yes to a quiet night inside.

I know the plan may sound ridiculous, but so does the idea that a man who calls is a man who cares. Only in situations like long distance relationships, should time spent on the phone be treated like a prized possession, which is exactly why long distance relationships don’t work well for me. When I think about my long distance relationships from the past and all those hours spent talking on the phone, I start to itch.

These days, the reason I prefer a person who is close because I feel like the time spent on the phone can be time spent in person. I mean, hasn’t the face to face encounter been around longer than the phone call? Talk about a lost art.

The phone call, like many other things, needs to be explained in the very beginning of courtship in order to be honored. If we’re the type of people who appreciates phone calls over text messaging and emails, we need to make it clear to whoever we’re dating so that way they know what’s acceptable. If I liked a girl and she said she would much prefer I call her, I’m going to call her, but if she doesn’t express this in the beginning, and I’m sending 15 or so text messages to every one phone call, and she uses that to gauge how I feel, she should absolutely move on to the next guy..

As a matter of fact, I’ll just put it on record now and say I don’t want to date a girl who has time to talk for an hour or so anytime between the hours of 6 a.m. and 11 p.m. And if she does have that time, she needs to elect to spend it with me in person. I’m perfectly fine with stopping whatever I’m doing not to go back and forth on text messaging, not to sit on my couch and talk about things like my years growing up playing little league, but to actually get off my couch and see someone face to face. If we don’t have time to do that we probably don’t have time to talk on the phone.

Reminder: Voting for the Black Weblog Awards ends on August 31. If you feel I’m deserving of your vote for any of the categories, feel free to click on the bubble next Until I Get Married. I’m nominated in four categories: Best Writing in a Blog; Best Personal Blog; Best Relationships/Sex Blog; Blog of The Year. Click here to vote.

Girls You Shouldn’t Fall For: The Girl You Have To Break Up With Edition

Jozen — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 13:50:33 +0000

When my mom and her man of 11-years were going through their break up and he was moving out the last of his things, we decided to go out one night as a family. I remember how sad my Mom was as we were leaving the house and how heavy the tension was in the car between my Mom and Pop. They weren’t really mad at each other; more like mad that after 11 years, it was all ending.

My sister and I rode in silence, mad too.

Then we got to the restaurant, a pizzeria in a neighboring town, and were taken to our table. It was as if the chairs we sat in held the cure for unhappy families, because from the moment we sat down, the four of us didn’t stop laughing and smiling with each other. Like, we were a family, and probably the happiest one in the restaurant. It was as though we had just begun, rather than ending, our time together as a family. To this day, that remains one of the happiest nights of my life.

A few days later, my Pop moved the rest of his things.

I have a theory: No matter how bad the relationship between two people, no matter how final and imminent the pending break up, all couples have at least one great date left in them.

That theory first began to take shape the night my family and I went to dinner. I mean, you should have seen how happy my Mom and Pop were. It surprised me because I thought, Hey, wait a minute, aren’t you two breaking up? They certainly weren’t acting like it. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I was raised to stay out of grown folks business, I probably would have asked them why they didn’t take whatever magic they found in the night, bottle it up, and keep it for whenever times get rough. In other words, if they just stayed together, the bad times would turn into nights like the one at the pizzeria.

But they stayed course; the break up course. And to see where everyone is at these days, it’s hard to argue they were wrong or they would have been better off.

Years and years later, I was going through my own move out process. My ex was on her way out of my apartment, and the week leading up to her very first night in New York City, in a place that wasn’t mine (or was it still ours?), was weighing heavy on our minds. Neither of us were pleasant towards one another all that week. We weren’t speaking in the mornings nor the evenings. Both of us were just biding our time until the last of her things were gone and her set of keys were back in my hand.

That night, when she was to finally hand over her set of keys and then go back to her new apartment, something unexpected happen.

First, when I walked into the apartment, she was already there, waiting for me, and she had something I hadn’t seen in almost a week. A smile on her face. “Hi,” she said. Then she got up from the bed, gave me a hug and kissed me. I looked at her like she had a baby head on her shoulder. We exchanged hellos and that’s when she hit me with the news.

Apparently in the ride over to my place, she left her cell phone in the cab. Now luckily, she already called the phone from another phone and the cab driver picked up to tell her where he lived. So she had the address. But the driver had an accent, so she wasn’t quite sure the address was right. Together, we would have to ride to the Bronx at 10 o’clock at night, and go to what we thought was the right address to get her phone.

What was supposed to be the night of the key exchange was turning into a mini-adventure.

From the moment we got into another cab to take us to the address, it was as though we were on our first date. I don’t know what it was or why it was, but here we knew we had some most unfortunate business to take care of, and yet, we were acting like a couple who didn’t know of each other’s imperfections. We were laughing as my ex tried to impersonate the accent of her cab driver, joking with the current cab driver that we were two Californians who didn’t know anything about the Bronx. The only problem we had was the looming fear that the address given was not to a house but to a huge project building. All we had written down was a building number. And for those who live in New York, everyone knows the addresses come with floor or apartment numbers.

We finally arrived on the street of the address and were relieved to see it lined with houses. As we crept in the cab getting closer and closer to the numbers, I saw looming in the distance, the street’s lone apartment building, about 12 stories high. We’re creeping, getting closer to the number written down. Closer. Closer. BAM! The number on the sheet of the paper is the address for the one apartment building on the street.

Now at 10:30 at night, we were going to have to ring on every single apartment number to find the cab driver with my ex’s phone. We were laughing, nervously.And seriously contemplating just getting my ex a new phone, but I thought, No way we came out all the way to the Bronx to not get this phone. We’re getting this phone. So I walked up the stairs, went to the row of doorbells and pushed the very first button, 1A.

“Hello,” a heavily accented voice said through the speaker.

My ex stepped up, “Hi, I left a phone in a cab. Now I don’t know if…”

BUZZZZZZ

My ex and I got so excited you would have thought we won the Lottery. We hugged. We kissed. We walked through the door and directly to the first floor apartment we just rang. A little girl opened up the door and some more kids were in the back playing catch with my ex’s phone. The cab driver’s wife (assuming), grabbed it and handed it over to us, then shut the door without so much a “You’re welcome.”

The two of us, ran out the door, still elated we got this phone and the right apartment number and — when I think about it — this one last night together.

We took our time getting back to the apartment. There was a taco truck nearby the apartment, so we stopped there and when the man preparing the food asked us if we were going to eat it there or take it to go, we decided to stay. We took our time eating and laughing about the adventure we were on. Instead of taking a cab back to the apartment, we decided to take the subway and the bus home. Both of us knew public transportation was running slow because it was so late, but I think that’s what we wanted. We wanted for everything to slow down because we knew what the end of the night held.

On the subway, I put my arm around her. On the bus I put my arm around her. As we were walking to the apartment from the bus station, we held hands. Everything about this adventure we shared reminded us that we had a good thing once upon a time and all over again, I was falling for this girl I was about to break up with.

But when we got to my apartment, we kept our focus on the task at hand. She had her phone now, so now all she needed to do was give me her keys and so she did.

To this day, I don’t know how or why I didn’t ask her to stay with me for the rest of the night. I don’t know why I let this girl I started crushing on all over again turn around and walk towards her new apartment instead of asking her to walk into mine. But then again, I don’t know why my Mom and Pop never stayed together after the night we shared at the pizzeria.

And though I never asked my Pop if he remembers that night, I’m pretty sure he does because I have this theory: No matter how bad the relationship between two people, no matter how final and imminent the pending break up, all couples have at least one great date left in them. And we will remember them forever.

Five Ways A Girl Can Make Her Guy Comfortable With Girls Night Out

Jozen — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 05:24:02 +0000

Girls night out is every guy’s nightmare. Trust me when I tell you. No man likes it when his woman is getting all dressed up to go and hang out with her girlfriends surrounded by a bunch of other guys who are not us.

I know we may act like we want our girl to hang out with her girlfriends, but really, it makes us nervous. Especially for men like me who know if they haven’t already gotten what’s coming to them for our trifling past, it soon come. Yes, we will encourage a woman to go out and have a good time and try to act like we can use the space too, but honestly, we’d much rather her go take a walk to anywhere but a bar or a lounge.

So now that I have divulged this little secret, allow me to suggest a solution as to how to make girls night out a comfortable night for the man in her life. Actually, make that five suggestions.

DO IT DURING BIG GAMES

Especially during football season, depending on the team a man roots for, there are some great opportunities for a woman to make plans with her girls. Don’t get me wrong, I love a woman who can sit down and watch a game with me, but I’m never mad at the woman who says she’s going to do her own thing during the time the game is on. That shows she’s thinking. What shows she is not thinking? Going out with her girls on a night where nothing is on television for me to watch. I mean, come on, ladies! Everyone knows Friday night television hasn’t been good since they canceled Full House and Family Matters! Why don’t women think about these things? Now I’m over here pacing the floor, looking out the window every time I see some headlights flash all while watching ESPN News loop the same highlight reel over and over again.

AT DINNER, SHE NEEDS TO CALL AND ASK HIM IF HE WANTS HER TO BRING ANYTHING HOME

The other night I was at a restaurant, sitting not too far from a group of women who were clearly doing their own version of girl’s night out. One of them got on her cell phone, dialed her man’s number and said, “Hey sweetie, I’m here at this restaurant, do you want me to bring you anything home?” I wanted to kill the man on the other end of the phone and marry that woman myself.

Aside from the obvious common courtesy a woman demonstrates when she calls up her man and asks him if he wants her to bring anything home, this gesture is also somewhat of an insurance policy for men. It’s a way of saying, “No matter what happens tonight, I’m coming home to my man.” Besides, I also know no man wants to talk to the girl carrying the to-go container of food, especially if it’s one of those pungent dishes. So yes, I absolutely will take the chicken yellow curry. Thanks, babe.

DON’T TEXT, CALL

When I said I wanted her to check in, that did not mean a text that says, “I’m here.” WOMAN, WHERE?! That’s how I would respond. I want to hear where a woman is, not get a sense from the text. See, women don’t do this and that’s how they end up with tracking devices on their phone unknowingly (kidding). Besides, why wouldn’t a woman want to call her man to tell her where she’s at. How else is she going to know where I’m…wait…on second thought, don’t call, text.

SHE SHOULD ACT LIKE SHE DOESN’T WANT TO GO OUT, LIKE SHE DIDN’T HAVE FUN

Before she leaves the house, the only thing I want to hear my woman talking about is how much she is dreading the upcoming festivities. Say things like, “I can’t believe my girl has me hitting these streets with her. I told her all I wanted to do was spend the night inside with my man. And then I lost a bet. Can you believe that baby?” I will believe it, because I’m gullible like that and a woman needs to take advantage of that by lying to me and acting like she doesn’t want to be with her girls at some spot where some other guys are giving her all this attention.

When she comes back from going out, again, she need not act like she had a good time. It’s all good to come in and make all this noise as she changes out of her club clothes into her night clothes. I don’t mind waking up to that sound. But if she comes back in humming, “Let me hear you say ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah…” I’m going off, and it’s not for waking me up.

SHE NEEDS TO GIVE HER MAN SOME…RIGHT BEFORE SHE LEAVES

And when I say right before, I mean, grabbing the keys, three steps from walking out the door, right before. I want to do it when her hair is done, the makeup is applied, and the heels are on. And we don’t even have to lay down. We can stay standing. But yes, we need to do this right now, and she needs to text her friends that she will be outside in three minutes. Three minutes later, I give her a kiss and simply say, “Have fun with your girls. Don’t forget to call. I mean, text.”

The Former King Of The Small Things

Jozen — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 04:12:30 +0000

I used to be good at doing the little things to make a woman smile, and looking back on those days, I think it was because the little things were all I had. Yes, I had a career from the moment I graduated from college. And even in college, I was busy juggling two or three different things at a time, but back then, I think what also helped me focus on these “smaller things” was a lack of focus on the bigger things.

I think from a very early age, I understood the risks of the career I have chosen for myself. I knew I wasn’t going to be some hot shot lawyer making six figures and I knew I didn’t want to be a doctor who could afford to have a summer home. I just wanted to be a writer who was ambitious in his pursuits, and maybe one day make it to the top of a masthead or become so in demand, my talent would be handsomely compensated.

Meanwhile, my appetite for women never went away, and not just any type of women, but women who chose careers the exact opposite of mine. I admired the sharp wit and intelligence of lawyers, so I dated a few of them. I loved the way a woman who worked in medicine knew exactly what to do whenever I got sick, and knew it because she spent years of her life studying, so I dated a doctor from time to time. Oh, and business women? Don’t even get me started.

Being with these career-focused women never gave me a complex or made me question what it is I do. If I got involved with these women, I wasn’t going to let them think for one second that I lacked for anything just because I chose a career where the biggest reward was notoriety. My goal was always to show them, a good man who does these small things was priceless.

And so I became the king of the small things. Remembering the little things she said she liked when we were out window shopping, and then turning and buying them for her, so long as the price point was within my budget. I painted nights spent inside as the most romantic evenings and attempt to prove a long walk in the park was hands down the best way to spend quality time together, largely because it was free.

To some degree, these things worked (and I say some degree because if they worked to the full egree, I’d still be with at least one of them, right? Right). But I think what I have realized within the last couple of years in bachelorhood is that back when I was doing all these small things to keep a woman happy, I wasn’t really challenging myself to accomplish certain big things for myself.

I used to believe my talent would suffice. But right around the time my ex-girlfriend broke up with me, I became the online editor at VIBE, and I started to work around all these talented people who also hustled their tails off and I realized talent was only half the answer. I needed to hustle more, and so I did, as I attempted to juggle the same dating life I always had.

Turns out, that wasn’t going to fly.

Since April 2008, I don’t believe I have let one woman come before anything work related. With the exception of my boys and my family, all of my focus has been put on this career. I’m always choosing time to nurture a relationship with my readers over time to nurture a relationship with a woman.

And that is why a lot of women I have spent time with lately have accused me of not caring. As if to say, I met them, got to know them, and decided, I didn’t like them enough to continue getting to know them better. When the truth is, I met them, got to know them, and decided I like them enough to give them this oh-so-rare spare time I have. This is not to say they should just shut up and accept my time as some sort of gift, I would never think my time is more valuable than theirs. It’s just to say, I actually do care, but unfortunately, there’s work to be done too.

Ever since I read that post written by a woman I dated when I was unemployed, and how my “unemployment” status frustrated her at times, this whole “you don’t care because you don’t do the little things” line I keep hearing has been bothering me. When I did have time to do the little things, a woman was frustrated I wasn’t doing “big things”.

So now I’m back to my regularly scheduled program of being so busy, the small things are treated as such, and thus, almost forgotten. And I know this may sound a lot like the post I wrote a few days back about being too busy to be in a relationship, but hey, let this post serve as a reminder. These days, I’m so busy writing and trying to take my work to the next level that all I could think of to write for the past few days are posts about being too busy to do anything else but write about how busy I am.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I remember very well the man I used to be. Every single ex girlfriend of mine will tell you I was all about the little things; how good of a job I did caring about the details. But that man right now is busy doing other things, so busy he’s forgotten how to do the small things and lately I have been wondering if he will ever let up. I wonder, should I just take it upon myself to slow down like I took it upon myself to speed up or should I wait for a woman who keeps up or slows me down? I don’t think a woman is a distraction, but sometimes, being her man can be.

For The Men Who Feel Like It Could Have Been Them

Jozen — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 11:23:24 +0000

So maybe it’s the week of the exes.

I don’t know, but whatever it is, I’m hoping this is the last ex-girlfriend related post I have because, umm, I really hate talking about my exes. I was out with a girl the other night and she asked me these questions about my past relationships, and she wasn’t annoying me, but at some point I just had to dead them because I thought, there’s so much more to me than my ex-girlfriends.

Still, right now, there isn’t much more I’m thinking about other than my last ex and I’m not thinking about her back when we were together. There hasn’t been any reminiscing of the days from our time we lived with each other. I’m thinking about her now, and I’ve been wanting to reach out to her, this month in particular, because, well, she either has or she is about to have her baby.

And I’m happy for her. I really am. I want to send her a text or give her a call and ask her all these questions, but every time I have thought to do so, I stop myself. So the questions like what she named him and how she is feeling are just kind of hanging around in my head. It’s like, they’re not even real questions because real questions get asked and have answers to them.

The only question I have is why the hell I’m thinking about this woman and how the hell did I remember that her baby was coming in the month of August? Like, seriously, why do I know that? The baby’s not mine and yet, when my sister was pregnant, I had to ask her several times what month my niece was being born. SEVERAL TIMES!

Meanwhile, over here in this one bedroom apartment my ex and I used to share, thinking at least once a day about my ex and wondering to myself, did she have the baby yet? Maybe I should reach out and see. But then, again, I stop myself. Because I sent her a text last month, to ask her how she’s doing, and she hit me with a text back that said: “I’m fine, just getting ready to be a Mommy.” I wasn’t ready for it, although I should have been. It was a reminder that my ex-girlfriend has moved way beyond the status of being anyone’s ex-girlfriend. She’s someone’s mother now.

So I wait before I send out any text or make any call to wish my ex-girlfriend congratulations if the baby was born. I know better than to do something I’m not ready to do, and I’m not ready to talk to my ex-girlfriend as a mother. Not yet. Even though I have thought about it possibly at least once every day this month. It’s August, you know? I can’t help but wonder how she’s doing as a mother and if it’s everything she thought it would be. I wonder if her voice is different because for so long the only voice I remember hearing from her is the voice of a woman who wanted some of the things she has now like what I’m sure is a healthy, beautiful child.

Maybe all of this is the final phase. The first one was getting over the news when she told me she was pregnant. The second phase was getting over the actual sight of seeing her pregnant. And maybe now, this is the third phase, realizing this woman who I once thought was going to be the mother of my kids is now the mother to someone else’s kid. And I know if she read this she would probably think this is just like me, to make this about me, but what can I do? What can I say?

Guys think about this stuff too. They see their exes they once thought they were going to marry or have a family with move on and get married or have families with someone else, and they may not say anything, but it hurts. Sometimes a lot and sometimes a little. So this post is for that man, who remains friends with an ex and watches her move on with another man and eventually have a family with that other man; the man who wants to tell his ex how happy he is for her new blessing, but has to find the strength to do so first.