Ever meet someone who likes one particular thing to a point where it’s almost obsessive and frankly a little weird? I understand fetishes. We all have them. I have them. Plenty of girls I have been with have them. There is absolutely nothing wrong with fetishes until they start getting in the way of, the real thing.
Now I could have very easily entitled this post “Girls You Shouldn’t Fall For: The Grown Woman Who Lives At Home Edition”, since this woman was my age at the age of 25, but really, none of this was because she still lived with her parents. It had something to do with this thing she liked a little bit too much and me, a guy she didn’t like quite enough, or for only one reason.
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One of the great things about being single for the last couple of years is it’s allowed me to open my eyes to different types of women and different things I like about women. Back when I was jumping from relationship to relationship, I restricted myself to liking these similarities I would find between one girl and the next. Now, I can appreciate a woman who stands out from my type and have found the most peculiar things to be attractive. Even more odd are the way some women draw me in via qualities I don’t possess — it’s the idea of opposites attract but not in some big, personality-driven way, more like, these small ways. Allow me to explain.
Today, five things I like in a woman, but I don’t necessarily like for myself.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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”.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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