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On Cheating and Tiger Woods

November 30th, 2009 44 comments

Over the weekend, everyone heard about what happened with Tiger Woods. How he was leaving his house at like 2:30 in the morning, and got into a car accident. How his wife came outside and busted open the window of the car with one of his golf clubs. How he had to go to the hospital because, among other things, his face was looking like he got in a fight in a Lamborghini with Chris Brown.

Once the news hit, the rumor mill started spinning like rims on a  2009 Cadillac Escalade, and of course the most entertaining and scandalous rumor of them all was Tiger Woods was seeing a woman on the side. According to this New York Times article, in the 36 hours after news of the accident broke, over 3,200 stories were published in print and on the web, and without reading even 32 of them, I’m pretty sure most of them were running on the gossip juice.

Now I’m not one to keep the rumor mill churning. Personally, I believe the media should stop all the speculating. Unfortunately for Woods, speculating is so much fun. We’re all throwing rumors out their, just hoping Woods will confirm them. We want him to come right out with it and say he was doing something he shouldn’t. Bonus points if he holds a press conference and cops to adultery with his wife by his side like Kobe Bryant.

But if Tiger Woods cares about his family more than his fame, he won’t say a word. And by doing so, not only will he be protecting his clan, he will be protecting his race too, at least one half of it.

Cheating may not be a black thing, but damn if it isn’t portrayed that way in the media. The majority of great African-Americans, athletes especially, are almost always humanized by stories of adultery. Pay close attention to biopics like Ray (about Ray Charles) and Ali (about Muhammad Ali). Both movies exploit their difficulty with monogamy in an effort to make them seem more like us. Check out what Clint Eastwood who directed and produced an upcoming film about Nelson Mandela, entitled Invictus, said about meeting the man in the current issue of GQ:

GQ: When you met Mandela, did you learn anything from him on how to be, how to live?

Eastwood: Eh, no, because he was a guy who had a lot of faults…he had problems with women. I guess he liked…Ah I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that.

GQ: He said with a grin.

Eastwood: His private life was probably not as great as his public life. He’s a man underneath it all.

The implication of Eastwood’s answers is when it comes to women, men will be men, no matter their color, creed, or class.

Because cheating isn’t a black thing, or an Asian thing, it isn’t a football or a golfer thing, a rich thing or a poor thing. Cheating, I hate to say this, is a man thing; a grown man thing, and sometimes a little man, still in high school, thing. And sometimes, it’s a woman thing, although, men hate to hear that sort of thing. It has been my thing, it has been other men’s thing. It’s been the thing of fathers, husbands, brothers of sisters. Now, it could possibly be this one-of-the-most-famous-and-richest-athletes in the world thing,

But I’ll tell you what it isn’t. It isn’t a new thing.

Nobody should accept cheating in their relationship, but we should accept the fact that every man does it and it’s not bound to one particular group of men. As I said on Twitter the other day, if that man did in fact cheat on his wife, the “I Am Tiger Woods” slogan has become truer than it ever was.

When all the rumors about Tiger Woods cheating on his wife started to surface, and many women I know wanted to blame it on stupid things like him being black, I was reminded of the time I was playing Taboo.

Everyone knows how to play Taboo, the game where one person must refrain from using a list of clues to describe a person, place, or thing and his or her team must guess what it is based on other clues not listed. On this particular night, in this particular game, it was men against women, and it was the women’s turn. A woman picked up her card, and the first clue she gave was, “He cheated on his wife.”

From there, all the women started to scream the names of famous black men. I’m talking everybody from Kobe Bryant to dare I say, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Unfortunately, all of those answers were incorrect. It wasn’t any of those guys. The final answer wasn’t even the same color as any of those guys. The final answer was actually white. You may have heard of him. His name is Bill Clinton.

 

Categories: cheating, dating, guys, women Tags:

Thanks Giving

November 26th, 2009 7 comments

One day, Thanksgiving will not only be known for a holiday of eating, but a holiday of meeting. Is it just me or does Thanksgiving seem like the number one holiday couples introduce one another to their parents? I don’t know, just a thought.

Anyway, no blogging about relationships, dating, or sex today, just wanted to take this time to say thank you to all my readers. Whether you just got put on a couple of days ago, or you have rolled with me from the beginning; those who take the time to email me personally; the commenters, especially you all; the friends, family, and colleagues I know in real life who read me and give me props and criticism.

Thank you a million times over. I am forever grateful.

See you all on Monday. Until then, be blessed, be safe.

“I’m a writer for myself and others…” – Jay-Z

Categories: writing Tags:

At Some Point, High School Can't Matter

November 25th, 2009 11 comments

Not too long ago, I asked a 25-year-old woman if she ever cheated in a relationship. “I have,” she said. “When I was in high school.”

“Oh, that doesn’t count,” I shot back.

“Why not?” she asked.

I then explained to her my philosophy of how very few things we do in high school should be held against us as adults. If she were to tell me she cheated on the last boyfriend she had, two weeks ago, I can gather she probably has some commitment issues. But cheating in high school? I cheated in high school, that’s not the problem. I’m 28. I cheated when I was 27. That’s a problem.

Unless you’re a freshman in college, or your senior year of high school was the apex of your cool (to which I would feel sorry for you if that were the case), any experience regarding relationships in high school should be swiped clean from the record. It doesn’t matter, good or bad if it happened in high school. Anything you did back then goes the way of your letterman jacket, and you don’t still wear that do you?

The truth is, even if we throw away the letterman jacket, some people still want to wear the experiences they had in high school on their sleeves. They will say high school matters, and of course it does, but so does middle school, and elementary school, and the first steps we ever took. In the grand scheme of things, every single day of our lives matter.

What I’m talking about is allowing high school to matter more than any of the other times I mentioned. In 2010, I’ll have graduated high school 10 years ago, and I can’t think of one thing about me then that is the same today. Not one.

I changed since high school. I don’t look the same, dress the same, talk the same. I don’t even think I’m the same height (a little bit taller). When I graduated from high school, I was 18. Do the math and add up the common sense. Nothing about me is the same, except for my name, and therefore, nothing about me back then can apply to me now.

We can talk about high school love affairs, and things like losing one’s virginity (for those of us like me, who at least waited until high school) until we’re blue in the face. But why should I expect anyone to take seriously, a period in my life where the biggest step involved sharing my locker with a girl, when since then, I’ve actually shared an apartment with a woman? I give consideration for those who went through four years of hell in high school, whose lives changed in ways that impacted their core and shaped them forever, but such seismic events are not the ones I speak of.

The events I’m talking about are things like cheating on a girlfriend or boyfriend in high school, or getting one’s heart broken in high school. Those are the types of things that don’t matter to me. As a matter of fact, if ever I am dealing with a woman who is still hurt over losing her high school love, I am going to feel obligated to check her ID and make sure she’s not getting me into an R. Kelly type of situation.

And for those who are wondering: Of course all of this is coming from someone whose high school years were largely uneventful. Some of my high school classmates read my blog, they know like I know, I wasn’t that popular, and while I did my lose virginity in high school, I wasn’t a ladies man of any sort (not to say I am one now). I played in the jazz band. I went to my senior prom with a pretty girl who also happened to be a dear friend of mine since the first grade. Prom King, I was anything but. Yet, I’m pretty sure, even if things were different and I was more Zach Morris than Screech Powers, I would hope to learn much more about life after those four years of seven period days were over.

Who we were in high school and what we went through in high school are nothing more than memories worth sharing from time to time. I learned a lot back then, but since then, I’ve learned so much more.

Categories: Uncategorized Tags:

Awake By Myself

November 24th, 2009 11 comments

She’s sleeping and I’m not. I’m wide awake, like it’s the middle of the day. Right now, it’s the middle of the night. Four o’clock ante meridiem.

Damn.

We do this every night. Well, not every night, just every night this week. Fighting like this, sleeping like this. In the same bed, but not at the same time because of mad fights: Mad at each other, mad at ourselves, mad as in, all the time we’re fighting. It gets to both of us, affects our sleeping habits.

Earlier, around 10:30, she wanted to talk about us, argue about us. Earlier, around 10:30, I wanted to go to sleep. Whatever was bothering her wasn’t enough to keep me awake, to keep me from closing my eyes. We can talk about it tomorrow, I said. Wonder what she did while I was asleep. I’m tempted to quietly reach over and grab her phone, see if she called some other dude who probably said dumb things like, “You deserve better than him.”

But let me not do that. Be cool, Jozen.

Look at her; asleep, still, back turned to me, mad at me with her eyes closed. She took all the blankets too. Damn her.

This makes me think of the time when I was 5-years-old. I think that was the first time I saw my mom and Dad fight. They had a fight one night, the next morning they woke up, and everything was fine. We were supposed to go to my Grandparents that day but right before we were about to leave, my mom said we weren’t going.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Grandma and grandpa got into an argument,” my mom explained. “We’ll go another day.”

“They should go to sleep,” I said.

My mom chuckled and said, “Why’s that?”

“You and dad got into a fight, then when you two went to sleep and woke up, you two were all better.”

My mom laughed a little harder this time, shook her head, and as she was taking off my jacket said, “It doesn’t always work like that.”

She was right. It certainly doesn’t always work like that, and it hasn’t been working like that at all lately, no matter how hard we try. If I can just stay up a little bit longer, things might be better. Or, if she can just wake up a little bit earlier.

If we can just get on the same clock, I wouldn’t be awake and she wouldn’t have all the blankets and sheets. One day, when I have kids, I’m going to tell them, “Whatever you do, find someone who has the same sleeping pattern as you. You’ll thank me later.”

Because that’s the real problem.

Forget anything we’re arguing about;the issues aren’t important. What’s important is when the arguments take place. We can agree to disagree or disagree on what we agree on like all couples do. But when two people are on different clocks — one person goes to bed at an ungodly hour, while the other wakes up at ungodly hour — that right there stokes the flames.

I told her when we first got together, how I like to go to bed early, how after 11 o’clock, I’m rarely any good for anything. Don’t even think of going to a midnight showing of a movie or even a showing starting after 9:30 p.m. Instead, catch me at 6:30 in the morning. I’m up early, with the garbage men. She told me it was fine, even though she was wired differently. She stayed up all night, sometimes even as late as when the garbage men would begin their shift. And mornings? What mornings? If it was up to her, she would sleep right through them, and say “Good afternoon.”

When things were all good, this was never an issue between us. She’d let me go to bed. When I woke up, I let her sleep. Unless we had a good reason to wake each other up (in the beginning, we always seemed to have plenty of those), our different clocks were respected.

Now things are all bad, now we got issues, this being one of them. I am so pissed because right now, she’s sleeping and I’m not.

Oh well. We will talk about it tomorrow.

Categories: guys, women Tags:

Five Other Things Women Can Do Like Guys

November 23rd, 2009 15 comments

“I’m going to start dating like a man.”

“I’m like a guy when it comes to sex.”

The two quotes above are not from any one or two specific women, but rather, from a variety of women I have talked to over the years. This idea of dating or hooking up with the attitude of a man amuses me because when women say this, they do so with an air of liberation. It’s the thing they say right before they start hooking up and not taking names.

Of course, I have no problem with this attitude adjustment. No matter how brief or long women embrace the behavior of a man, I bank on the benefits. Nothing like a woman who doesn’t care more than I don’t care.

But why must women limit their new man-like attitude to just dating and hooking up? The fairer sex should think beyond such surface level things and adopt other ways they can act like a man. To help them, I have created a list of five more things they can do like a guy, in addition to the dating/hooking up like a guy.

Ladies, not only will the five things I list here help men like me better deal with you, but they will help you as well. Choose not to embrace any of these, and I wish you continued success in doing things the hard way.

THE FIVE OTHER THINGS A WOMAN CAN DO LIKE A GUY

Watch TV Like A Guy: Not only does this mean no longer watching marathons of the Real Housewives of ANYWHERE and The Hills. It means replacing those marathons with ESPN SportsCenter marathons.

Daily.

Even if it’s the same one for four hours, and muted the entire time. Don’t change the channel.

Pick Up The Check Like A Guy: To all the ladies who want to date like a guy, don’t do it halfway. Do it all the way and pay for the first date. THAT IS dating like a guy.

Call Me Like A Guy: And when I say call me like a guy, I essentially mean don’t call me at all.

Fight Like A Guy: Whenever a man sees his woman talking to another man, he doesn’t care who initiated the conversation, the first person he’s handling is the man. If it comes to a fisticuffs, so be it. The man must always be checked. But when a woman catches her man talking to another woman, she usually blames the man and wants to go off on him.

Cut that out, ladies. It makes too much sense, and part of acting like a man, is letting our ego get in the way of common sense from time to time. Develop the ability to fight like a guy and start checking these women who are talking to your man. Ask questions later. If it comes to fisticuffs, so be it.

Exterminate Like A Guy: Ladies, the next time a pigeon has flown into your crib or there’s a spider in the bathroom, handle it yourself. Google “How to catch a Pigeon” or take your slipper to the spider. No screaming, no calling my name. Guy up.

Categories: guys, women Tags:

Stay Talking About My Ex

November 20th, 2009 10 comments

Since I started this blog, I have written over 77 posts. Almost all of them have to do with me and women — what I think of them, what they think of me, what I’ve done with them, what they’ve done to me. Out of those 77 posts, one was entirely about my ex-girlfriend (in case you missed it, here: The One Who Got Away) but occasionally, she’s played a minor role in other posts.

No one is more conscious of when I mention of my ex and how often, more than me, and not just because I’m the author of each post, and thus each reference to her is my doing and my doing alone. I bring this up because I am well aware of the fact that though my ex and I broke up close to two years ago, I have not stopped talking about her since. As a matter of fact, if I were to combine the time I spent talking about her when she was my girlfriend with the amount of time she became my ex, I think it would add up to somewhere in the neighborhood of three-and-a-half years of talking about a woman.

Damn that’s a long time to talk about a person I don’t even talk to anymore. And here I go, as the title implies, talking about her. Again.

Like most people who get out of a bad break up and know it’s time to move on, I did so posthaste. As a result, all the women who came into my life in the immediate aftermath of my relationship’s end would eventually ask me if I was over my ex, and of course I would scoff at the suggestion that I wasn’t. But after months in denial, I finally had enough courage to at least be real with myself. I wasn’t over my ex for longer than I care to admit, but the mythical man code says, “Never let them see you sweat especially when “them” is women.” So I followed the code, and when asked, still never admitted I was struggling with moving on, even if they gave me the side eye when I told them different.

But my hats off to the women who saw right through me. They were observant like a mug of my mug, which told the truth my lips weren’t willing to tell. I was still all hurt inside and stuff. One girl I was dating named it the number one reason we weren’t going to be moving into anything serious anytime soon.

Fair enough.

But when I bring up my ex to women in my life these days and am asked if I am over her, (the question always carries a slight implication I am not), I shut down the notion immediately. Yet the question remains: If I am over her like I say I am, why do I still bring her up from time to time?

Fair enough.

When I used to bring up my ex, my voice told on me; it’d get heavy, deep, and drip with drama. More often than not, one casual mention of my ex would spool into a story about her, which would then weave itself into some larger narrative on our relationship and break-up. It was sad, really.

Now when I bring up my ex, or when I make mention of her in a post, the tone is a lot different, even if the frequency with which I bring her up isn’t. The way I speak of her now depends entirely on the conversation, and most times, those conversations are just me reminiscing on a good time from my past. When the conversation is a lot more serious, and I’m talking with someone about regrets or mistakes made in the past, of course she will come up then too.

The most telling difference between talk of my ex now versus then is the fact that she shares a lot more space in my conversations with exes who came before her. When I was still struggling to get over her, one would think she was not only my last ex-girlfriend, she was the only one I ever had. Nowadays, it’s all about topic. If we’re talking about living with a girlfriend, I’ll bring my ex-girlfriend up, but if we’re talking about going on vacation with a girlfriend, another ex might come up.

It’s safe to say of all the relationships I have been in, my last one was a main event compared to the ones prior, and that’s not to say it was better, it was just bigger. In every way. She was also the most recent of my ex-girlfriends. So when you put those two factors together, of course she’s going to be brought up more than the others, but that has more to do with circumstance than feelings. So if folks want to insist I talk about her still because I haven’t yet come to terms with our break-up, I say, Let them talk or let them listen.

Talks of my ex now are largely positive, straightforward, and most importantly, comfortable. The women who hear me bring up her name now, need not trip over any mention. The only reason I talk about her now is because, honestly, she changed the game. There was the man and boyfriend I was before my ex came into my life, and there’s the man I am now.

For better or worse, those two guys are a lot different. And since her, I’m even more different than I was when we broke up because now I am over her. I know the title implies otherwise, but trust me, I’m fine.

Categories: guys, women Tags:

A Guide To A Man's Firsts

November 19th, 2009 14 comments

They say some experiences are like the first time, no matter how many times they occur. I say, no matter how many times it occurs, the first time is the one we remember the most.

First does not have to mean best and sometimes it can mean worst, but no matter the result, nothing changes its position. Before it happened again or at all, the first time was an introduction and sometimes these introductions stay with us forever and changes our lives. Other times the introductions will be all we get.

Below, a list of man’s most memorable firsts.

The first girl he ever liked.
The first girl who ever liked him back.

The first girl he ever asked to dance.
The first girl who ever said yes when he asked her to dance.

The first girl he ever kissed on the cheek.
The first girl who ever kissed him on the cheek.

The first time he ever saw a sex scene in the movie, which is usually the exact same time his parents saw a sex scene in front of their child for the first time.

The first girl he ever kissed on the lips.
The first girl he ever made out with.

The  first time he ever touched a breast.
The first time he ever put his hand between her legs.
The first time he smelled his fingers afterward (he remembers the smell too).
The first time she ever touched him between his legs…way different than the first time he ever touched himself between his legs.
The first time he kissed her in between her legs.
The first time she did the same thing in return.

The first time he ever watches an adult film with his friends or by himself. Very gross. Very cool.

The first girl he ever brought over to his parents house when his parents were home. The first girl he ever brought over to his parents house when his parents weren’t home.

The first time he put on a condom.

The first woman he ever had sex with.
(Not to be confused with the first girl who let him touch her breast or touch in between her legs or any of the other firsts I have already mentioned)

The first orgasm he ever has from having sex.
(Much different than first time he made himself have an orgasm.)

The first time he ever made a woman have an orgasm.
The first time he ever heard of women faking orgasms.
The first time a woman told him she was faking her orgasms. (What do you mean you didn’t have an orgasm?)

The first girl he ever calls his girlfriend.
The first girlfriend he ever broke up with.
The first girl who breaks up with him.
The first girl he ever cheats on.
The first girl who doesn’t take that mess and cheats on him back.

The first time the condom breaks.
The first time he forgets to bring a condom
The first time a woman lets him have sex without one.
The first time he feels so stupid and feels so good at the same time.

The first time a woman tells him she might be pregnant.
The first time he has to buy a pregnancy test, and if it’s positive,
The first time he ever visits an abortion clinic or
The first time he ever sees a sonogram of his first born child.

If the results are negative, he still must deal with the first time he ever gets tested for HIV and other STDs.
What a scary first time.

The first one night stand and the first time he had sex with a girl whose name he doesn’t remember. (Funny how he remembers that but doesn’t remember her name. )

The first time he never hears back from a girl after they had sex for the first time.
The first girl who told him the first time they had sex was going to be the only time, because it was just sex. (He didn’t know girls did that too.)

The first time he has sex with more than one woman at the same time. He definitely remembers that.

The first time he has sex with the one woman he knows he wants to have sex with for the rest of his life.

The first time he has sex with her is a lot different than the first time he had sex with any other woman, because it’s
The first time he experiences intimacy.

The first time he says “I love you” to this woman
The first time she says, “I love you too.”

The first time he gets down on one knee and asks her to marry him.
The first time she says yes.
The first time they get married.

Hopefully, it’s the last time he ever does such a thing, because from what I heard, there is nothing like the first time a man gets a divorce.

Categories: Uncategorized Tags:

On Being A Great Ex-Boyfriend

November 18th, 2009 18 comments

There is no shame in having loved and lost. All of my relationships, from grade school to adulthood have ended, but with those ends, I never let the weight of bitterness drag me down. For the most part, I remain a man with a positive disposition, who looks at his past relationships as a collection of quality memories. I have not only learned how to move forward, I have become an expert at doing so.

This is not to glorify the failures of  my past relationships, because it has never been my intention to fail in the first place. With every new relationship, I subscribe to the Alexander Pope school of thought: “Hope springs eternal.” So when I put on my boyfriend hat and it’s time for me to be a woman’s man, I give it my best shot; love as hard as I can and pull out all the stops to make her the happiest she’s ever been.

Sounds like a winning attitude, right?

Yeah, well too bad attitudes don’t win.

In relationships, I don’t know what counts as a win and what counts as a loss, but I do know I have lost every relationship I have ever been in. But there will be no ‘woe-is-me’ing in this post, because through the years of break-ups, I have developed an uncanny ability at being a great ex-boyfriend, which counts for a lot more than some would lead you to believe.

If we buy the theory that in life, there is one person for us all, and only one person, then we must deal with the reality that in our efforts to find the one, we’re going to get it wrong more than we get it right. So when I say being a good ex-boyfriend is important, it’s because we will find ourselves being someone’s ex more than someone’s one and I don’t want to be like so many others who fail to play their position.

When I was in my previous relationship, my ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend called her more times than any one person should and at all kinds of inappropriate hours. Eventually, she had to check him, but since they lived so far away from one another, it was difficult for her to maintain order without doing something as drastic as changing her number. Prior to my ex, there were many other women I dated who always seemed to have some guy from their past, usually an ex-boyfriend, lurking in the shadows, trying to hang around long enough for an opportunity to present itself. As though my screwing-up would help their case.

How sad. How laughable.

It’s both — sad and laughable — because in all my years of dating and breaking-up, I have never seen a woman leave me only to get back with her ex-boyfriend, and I have done a lot of dating and a lot of breaking up. Even more shocking is how in the months after my break-up with my ex-girlfriend so many people suggested I try to get back with her, as though I could snap my fingers and make it happen or I could wear her down. They thought if I was apologetic enough and realized the mistakes I made, then maybe she will give me another shot.

I thought, That only happens in movies.

Besides, it took about four months for me to really comprehend my loss, to understand this break-up was going to be a lot harder than the others I had to endure, and by that time, it was too late for me to try and get back in the picture. She moved on. She had a new man, and for the record, it wasn’t her ex. Still, people said if I really wanted to be back with her, I would at least take a shot, in spite of her man. Infiltrate the good thing she had if I knew for sure I had something better to offer.

It was a convincing argument, and in my head, a romantic idea, but the thing that kept me from going to such lengths was remembering how I felt and how my ex-girlfriend felt when her ex-boyfriend would always call when we were together. I didn’t want to be like him or any other ex-boyfriend I saw who didn’t understand how to keep it moving. Besides, I lost a lot of sleep over how much I screwed things up with her, so in many  ways, keeping my distance, not ending up like the sad case that was her ex before me, was sometimes the only thing that helped me sleep at night.

Of course I don’t like the fact that in all my relationships, I have somehow come up short; don’t like to look back and see a bunch of false starts, but what can I do? There is something to be said for a person who can move on and let their past relationships harden in their own personal hall of history. My time with a lot of women may have been short, and in that short amount of time I had with them,  I may have messed up. But life? Life is long, and if I couldn’t be good to a woman long enough to spend the rest of my life with her, I can at least be good to a woman for the rest of our life apart.

Categories: dating, guys, on something, women Tags:

Five Signs I'm Hanging Out With Her Too Much

November 17th, 2009 18 comments

If there is one thing I give women credit for, it is their ability to change me in the most subtle ways. Many women assume I’m always trying to keep some space between us because I would rather be doing something else like hanging out with my boys, watching the game, but such logic merely scratches the surface.

The reason I try to maintain some space between a woman I’m dating is because I know, at some point, some of her pleasures and habits are going to become mine, even if it isn’t by design. Sure I want to take part in things she enjoys, but immerse myself in them nearly to the point of embarrassment? Only by accident.

To avoid such accidents, I do my best to retread a little. The question is how do I know when it’s time to do such a thing? Usually, the five things below are a good sign.

My Natural Smell Starts To Have Faint Undertones of Secret Deodorant

Whenever I start bringing my stuff over to a woman’s place, I know it’s a serious thing we have going on, so to keep things light and casual, I’ll often just come with the clothes on my back and worry about washing up when I leave the next day. But what sometimes happens is I never make it home the next day, and have to take a shower at the woman’s place before we grab a bite or something like that.

I get my wash on, my dry on, my teeth brushing on with some tooth paste on the index finger. But deodorant? There’s no substitute for that, so I resort to using the brand strong enough for me, and when I say strong, I do mean strong. Whenever I have to use a woman’s bottle of Secret deodorant, the smell stays on me all day, which is what it’s supposed to do. The problem is I swear everyone else can smell it too.

We Both Start To Refer To Her Place As Home

She can call her place her home all she wants, it’s her place, but once she starts or I start referring to her place as my home without any hesitation, I know we’ve gone too far.

Many people think this would never happen to them, but it’s a minor case of misspeaking and people need to watch out for it because what it indicates is boundaries are slowly being crossed. Whenever a woman asks me, “Are you on your way home tonight?” and I know she meant her home not mine, I always clarify by saying, “Naw, I was thinking about coming to your place though.”

I Start To Enjoy The Same Snacks She Enjoys When I’m By Myself

Look, I don’t date women who have weight issues, but every once in a while, I end up dating someone who thinks she does. As a result, I’m housing 100 Calorie Oreo Snack Packs and washing it down with some diet soda like I’m a 10-year-old at a pizza party because that’s all she has at her place. A taste for these treats starts to develop over time, and the next thing I know, I’m in the supermarket throwing boxes of 100 Calorie Snack Packs and 2-liters of Coke Zero in my shopping cart.

I Know Everything Going On With Real Housewives and Nothing In Sports

This one sneaks up on me all the time.

I’m at her place, more than my place, and rarely paying attention to what’s on the screen. Over time, I fail to notice I haven’t seen a game in any sport for a week straight but what I have seen a lot of is some Real Housewives marathons.

Used to be I could make a sound argument as to why Kobe Bryant is better than LeBron James, but ever since I started dating whats-her-name, the only good arguments I can produce is which season of Real Housewives was better, Atlanta or New Jersey. My vote is for Atlanta, but why do I even have an opinion?

I Always Make Sure To Put The Toilet Seat Down…On My Own Toilet!

If there is one thing I have learned about women it is this: No matter how clean or dirty the rest of their apartment is, they are all sticklers for keeping the toilet seat down, and rightfully so. No matter what they’re using it for, a toilet seat must be down, which is why I always do my best to remember to do so whenever I use their bathroom. This is just me being a decent man and remembering proper etiquette. Nothing wrong with that. But when I start asking my boys, “Hey dog, did you put the seat down” after they’re finished using my bathroom or curse myself for not doing so, I know the ways of the woman have infiltrated my system. What kind of man stresses over someone not putting his toilet seat down? Well, if I’m hanging out with a woman too much, it’s usually a man like me.

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We Were Together For Like Two Weeks

November 16th, 2009 14 comments

The relationships I count with the women who I call ex-girlfriends, have all made an impact on me. They are women who, for better or worse, I laughed with, cried with, went through some stuff with, and maybe even loved. They were the type to make me change my Relationship status on Facebook, or if we were together when Facebook didn’t exist, I would hold their hand in public, in front of other girls who at some time or another, I wanted to make my ex-girlfriend too.

Those women, the ex-girlfriends, are easy to think about, probably because the memories I have of them are rich with experiences. Two people, together like team, going through high points and low, hand-in-hand. Easy stuff to remember. Their stories are neat and some of them are still around, popping up on my caller ID every now and then to check on me and see how I’m doing. So in many ways, the stories are still being told, even if it’s gone from a sweet romance to a coming-of-age tale of guy and girl who once were together and later found they were better as friends.

But what of the women who I don’t call my ex-girlfriends, because, well, we were never in a relationship. The women who I was with for like two weeks (maybe more), but often find occupying the same amount of space in my thoughts as the women with whom I was in a relationship.

The one thing I have realized since I started living on my own in the real world, is how relationships are nothing like they show in televisions sitcoms or movies. In my life, relationships have not always been neat or worthy of a status change, but in retrospect, these strange arrangements mattered too.

My last formal relationship with a girl I called my girlfriend, was a little less than two years ago. Since then, I’ve found myself in many relationships just not in a formal sense. There were some more casual than others, and some lasting longer than others, but in retrospect, all matter deeply.

Women who I was with for like two weeks or two days, do not get discredited from my memory bank because I was with them for like two weeks or two days. They stay in the picture too, as a matter of fact, they’re the details that help make my picture stand out.

These days, I don’t even trip over where a relationship is going, if it’s going anywhere at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t even trip over the word relationship, and anyone who is worrying about where their “thing” is going is worrying about the wrong thing.

What’s really important in a relationship, even if we’re not calling it that, is respect. No amount of time should go by before respect is given. And anyone using the status of their relationship to dictate their behavior is probably doing so because they only know black or white, and have never seen the gray, like some of us have.

When I look back on all my relationships, I think I’ve learned as much from the one I didn’t call my girlfriend as the one I did. I may have been with her for like two weeks and I may have never seen her again, but she matters too. She is the details.

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