Archive for the ‘Male & Female Relationships’ Category

Pimpin’ Ain’t Dead, But Harassment Is

October 30, 2014

By now everybody has seen the video produced by Hollaback, a movement to end street harassment, because it is all over the internets.

Apparently really influential black journalists such as Jamilah Lemieux believe that more Black males need to come forward with their opinions on the matter.  Very Smart Brothas website editor Damon Young has answered the challenge already, but I am still willing to put my two cents in.

Pick-up Artists, or men that make it their business to try and “holler’’ at women they do not know, baffle me.  I have never been one to harass women in the street or tolerate those that do.  The practice always seems so desperate and I was never really good at, and unwilling to learn.

Let’s get these facts out of the way: I have only had maybe 6 hours of pick-up artist experience in my life because I am spoiled.  I’m a handsome man.  I was a cool kid.  I went to Howard University.  I’m blessed.  Everybody isn’t as fortunate to forever have the odds in their favor when looking for love or companionship.

Oddly enough, my six hours of pick-up artist experience came at Howard University during the first hours after dismissal from the Incoming Freshman Convocation, spilling over into the Campus Pals’ Ice Cream Social, and concluded while attending the party that ensued.  I learned so much in that short span of time and the etiquette that I would use to interact with women changed drastically, and permanently.

The dynamics were completely set-up because this was truly a unique situation.  All of the incoming Freshmen were moving into dormitories and were very excited to have, and share, their own personal phone numbers.  No doubt, some of them were like me and had never had a personal phone number of their own before that great day.  (I guess you have to think about life before cell phones, because my first day of college was a long time ago.)  Also the Freshmen tended to move in unison, like a mass hoard of black scholars eager to get far away from their parents.

Now, as I mentioned, my experience in the dreaded cold approach was limited but even I knew a can’t-lose situation when I encountered one.  The problem was that every other guy recognized it too.  One could obtain the names and phone numbers of complete strangers with relative ease just by striking up an innocent conversation on the shared experiences of “our first day.”  All boys school didn’t turn me into a mute and I literally “booked” my first Howard woman –or any woman, for that matter, without even trying.

  • book – African American (East coast?) slang from the 80’s meaning to obtain the name and phone number of a prospective sexual interest.

All of my boys caught on fast.  It became a numbers game very quickly.  I’m afraid that all of the adolescent posturing led to a contest of sorts: who could book the most.  Soon, more experienced pick-up artistry was on display and lame attempts were exposed for what they were.  Did that smooth brother just make his approach off of positive eye contact?  Is this whack negro’s only move to grab the arms of unsuspecting women in a vain attempt to impede their progress?  Win or lose, success or disaster: all of your actions were on display.

Doing less, equaled more.  My final tally was somewhere in the twenties, and I remember being thoroughly proud that I didn’t embarrass myself in front of my new peers.  I also remember thinking that I never wanted to do that again.  Sure, if I met someone then I met someone but I didn’t want to consciously approach with such superficial intentions, again.  If the point of getting the digits was for a greater purpose then I wanted the whole process to suit my needs and desires.

Did I want the woman that could be approached easily, for anything?  Besides being a lot of work to obtain, would any of my efforts to put sheer numbers in the book yield results?  All of it proved to be an exercise in futility, anyway.  We would all, presumably, have to see each other again for the next four years or so whether anyone tried to holler that first day or not.  Genuine connections were more valuable than phone numbers.

The whole entire holler game seemed fake and the knife cut both ways.  Many of the women knew what was up and would oblige any potential suitor with the knowledge that they might never actually call.   There are only so many hours in a day.  I guess I found a better use of my time than chasing women down.  The women that I wanted didn’t appreciate it and my first rule of trying to use my dick is not to be a dick.

If you can create the intrigue and pique the curiosity of your target, you will never have to risk a cold approach again.  So you saw beautiful woman in a public space.  Great.  You really aren’t pimpin’ though until she is wondering what it is like to sit in your lap.  There is no book for that.  Get it together, little brothers, and let these women be.  If she isn’t showing any outward, but even subtle, signs of reciprocation then you need to keep it moving until she does.

Like it or not, pimps are the best at this type of recruiting.  I’m not suggesting that you have to really have to start pandering and dropping quotes from a Hughes Brothers film called American Pimp, but there is something to it.  If you know the game, then make them choose you.  I leave you with this.

  • “It ain’t easy, man. It might look glamour-like to ya, ‘cause you see me ridin’…ya dig? Snakeskin down to the flo’, ya dig? Hat and shoes to match. Diamonds on fingers and watches on arms… It might look easy, but ya gon’ hafta work some to get to this status… see ya at the top.”  – Bishop Don Magic Juan

Chunky or Die

September 1, 2011

Breakwater is Chunky

I have been in a quiet exile of my own choosing for quite some time now and I’m writing to you today from that secluded space in order to relate my thoughts to you. It is not my intention to give anything else away because I, quite frankly, can’t afford to anymore. It came to my attention a little over two years ago that what I was writing would probably be able to be used against me for a significant amount of time. I thought of trying to sensor myself and take it back, but truthfully there is no such thing in cyberspace.

I had a good run of solid posts and very little readership to console myself. I spent the last year or so reading other people’s confessionary blogs and I was even jealous of their popularity. It got me to ponder the double-edged sword of writing enough titillating blog features to increase the page hit counts and yet still be able to maintain an employable persona and the salary that comes with it.

Eventually the old blog petered out when I came back from Mexico. I was flush with new catch phrases that would never catch on and I had probably just ‘jumped the shark’ by showing my ass in Tulum. Really there was nothing left for me to do at that point. My usual topics all seemed boring: relationships, surfing, travel, flowers, culture, and the DeMatha Stags.

I had plenty of inspiration and I never stopped following my interests but I didn’t get the feeling that anybody cared to read about it anymore. Not much has changed since I got that feeling except for the fact that I realize now that the blog was more for me than it could ever be for a potential reader. The Chronicles of Six is my public record and without it, I have no tangible means of ridiculing myself.

So, I’m re-launching. Oh I’ll still write for the magazines that some of you have found me in and, travel permitting, I will still try and hold down my Stags. Although I must admit, I’m going to have to be a lot more cryptic this time around because I’m old and the good Lord knows that I shouldn’t be doing this sort of stuff.  The picture that Damien Baskette took is a reminder of such endeavors because the wave being surfed is Breakwater in Venice and if it is that chunky then you really don’t have much hope of surviving the close-out that will rapidly ensue.

I’m going to ride this blog for as many moments as it gives me and then I’m going to plow through the face and pray.

Check for me.

Girls That Make You Look Bad

October 17, 2009

 

Right now, I don’t have this problem anymore but I have had recent ruminations on girls that make you look bad that I would like to lay out for you here.

In relationships I don’t believe that there is any difference in the sexes when it comes to people wanting to avoid the people that embarrass them. Whether you are talking about someone that you are intimate with, or a buddy that you play pick-up basketball with I think that people tend to gravitate towards enhancing their self image with the company they choose. Don’t get me wrong, I play a basketball and rub elbows with folks that have made me look bad. In the case of basketball, it can make you a better player. In the case of social company, it can push you intellectually.

Trying to defend this little gorilla-looking kid, Alaric, at Fort Stevens playground in the late 1980’s, early 1990’s was not a good idea. Alaric was the ghetto classic, dribble-first, point guard that had a penchant for breaking over-aggressive defenders’ ankles with dizzying spins and a crisp crossover. He would pause in the middle of his moves to give the crowds that would show up there a chance to react and he would crush your reputation in the process. Every “oh” from the spectators meant that you were getting served and that you were having a hard time staying in front of Alaric. Maybe because I was from New York and a year older than him that I made it a point to play against him every chance that I could? I have a competitive streak like that, but Alaric was a bit too much DC youngling for me and he made me look stupid for a good six months.

Not all of my fraternity brothers and I get along despite the fact the group actions can be binding on individuals. Fraternities are a lot like families, in that you are stuck with them, and that some of the personality clashes are simply luck of the draw. There were some meetings that we would have in college that would come to fisticuffs. The beauty of it all was the fraternity, itself, provided the structure by which the playing field of power was leveled ideally. Brothers quickly learned that politics was a more effective tool than brute strength, all the time, even though there were quite a few of us that relished some of the rougher confrontations. No matter how much you wanted to bash someone’s brains in because of a stupid decision that you would ultimately be responsible to help carry out, it was always in your best interest to build a coalition against the idea.

Now those are two examples that I just put out there in order to demonstrate that if you always choose the easy road in relationships then you are very likely to miss the opportunity to use the resistance to grow. With that being said, you would have to be an idiot, male or female, if you choose the most difficult partner to begin a relationship with the idea that you are going to be stronger for it in the long run. You may succeed in your exercise and find yourself single, because in this day and age, it isn’t likely that you will stay together. Some challenge is good, but I don’t know if a healthy relationship can survive the heavy strain that comes with constant opposition. When it comes to getting together people have a tendency to pick people that they get along with. Forcing it is for the stupid and for men that don’t mind giving up half of their traps in divorce settlements.

Compatibility is the key and there are few things more incompatible to me than some woman embarrassing me which is why I’m usually gone at the first signs, and why I’ll never be with stupid one.

Stalker Dudes

October 6, 2009

What is the deal with stalker dudes? Can someone please explain them to me? I don’t understand why they are following women around and taking illicit videos and generally sweating the hell out of them. Don’t they understand that they could use that money and effort and get a woman that really likes them and who might actually appreciate the attention? “Chasing bitches down,” as Ghostface Killah puts it, is on some borderline rape shitanyway.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for men pursuing with some sort of consistency and persistence but there has to be a point at which you are not only breaking the law but also being totally counterproductive with the chase. I, for one, have never been called a stalker by anyone that I have been with that I can remember. I’m not really the type of guy that sticks around when he isn’t wanted. Hell, I don’t think that I’ve even been the type to stalk a woman, even when they wanted me to sometimes.

I’ve got too much stuff going on in my world to get too involved in someone else’s world –especially someone that doesn’t want me in their world. Also, there is no tangible benefit to stalking women. The most that the dude that was stalking Erin Andrewsgot was some footage that was only fit for the internet. I never even saw that video because I boycotted it as a matter of general principal. How am I supposed to support some psycho that clearly needed validation for his perversion when the video in question wasn’t even all that pornographic? Am I supposed to be getting all hype to see Erin Andrews look at herself in the mirror, even if she was naked?

Men that took the time to witness the video have officially reached a new low, and they were all undoubtedly disappointed. The Peeping Tom, Michael David Barrett, that filmed the ESPN sports analyst through a key hole in her hotel room needs to go to the Larry Flint school of smut because his effort was even tamer than Hugh Hefner. If you spend all your time and money stalking and all you come away with are some pictures then I’m sorry, you failed. I’m thinking that if a man is going to put in that much work then he might as well try to holler or something so he can really make it happen.

Kevin Federlinecould have just stalked Britney Spears, but he didn’t. Federline took that extra step and legitimately put the mack on the songstress until she started squeezing out his kids.  (This is why Kevin Federline is a Pimp of the Year nominee.) Then, when Kevin’s future was secure, he put on a ton of weight and bailed on the set. I’m not saying that every man can be a starlet’s backup dancer turned financial beneficiary but you have to be in it to win it. Many of these stalker dudes aren’t even giving themselves a chance to hit the jackpot. How much do you want to bet that the dude stalking Erin Andrews never even tried to officially holler, or at least make himself known as a potential suitor.

Granted, chances are old boy would have been shot down anyway but I’m still guessing that he never threw his hat into the arena before he went down the path of sexual deviance. These are the sort of guys that collect hair and go on panty raids. Why on earth would a grown man want to see a woman in the shower if he isn’t at least going to be invited in? This guy not only just stood there taping it like a cuckold, he also put it out there for the world to see like it was going to be all good. A few words, homey: no. No, it is not all good. You’re never going to get laid looking through a key hole. This is not the movie Porky’s, and the world isn’t some porno movie waiting to jump off.

Sorry about all that.  I’m just trying to figure out what’s the deal with stalker dudes.

Mean Girls

September 29, 2009

I wish someone would explain to me about sassy girls because I just don’t get it. Who is picking these girls? Why are there so many of them all of a sudden? How can you tell them that you want them to go away without getting into an(other) argument? How am I just now figuring out that they had a title to a movie staring the recent disaster Lindsey Lohan?

I’m getting tired of the mean girl that confuses a nasty attitude with sexiness or intelligence. Do you know the woman that always has something biting to say? They have a tendency to also believe that they can win debates, even without facts to back them up, because of the way that they talk. Most those girls are vapid in my opinion, and probably just acting out what they see in the movies. This is kind of cool, if you think about it. I guess that’s why guys like girls.

These days if I detect more attitude than substance in what it is that you’re saying I’m less likely to pay attention. I look at it as a defense mechanism by which I get to preserve my testicles and prevent myself from ending up married to one of those Kate Goselin’s. I can just imagine the hell that is hearing a snide mouth all day, but if you’re one of the guys that can take it –more power to you. Even Jon Goselin eventually had to go on record and say he “despised” Kate for emasculating him on national television.

I can’t do it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for powerful women. My family is full of them. They make for great relatives, decent friends, and they are great for society. Sometimes is pays to be mean, and women have perhaps learned from other areas in life that they can advance their personal issues with extra attitude. To be certain, there is a place for them, and the right person for them, but it is not me. I’m trying to do something a little different.

I like the women that can turn it on and off. Some women have become masters at it. I genuinely applaud the intelligent women that understand the advantages of approaching career decisions aggressively or when they can employ sarcasm in order to illustrate a point. The problems arise with me, when some women attempt to engage the same skill set impudently in order to gain attention from the opposite sex.  I keep thinking to myself, that a sandwich would work so much better.

I hate the types that think that they are feisty because they always take the counterpoint –not because they believe in it, but to be contrary. They seem to think that bickering is an endearing quality. Usually these are the women that illicit the non-response from me because I’ll be damned if I’m going to begin a relationship by quarrelling all the time.  It just doesn’t make any sense.

More Dating Ridiculousness: Basic Black Girls

August 26, 2009

Facts: The woman, referred to as Miz Thang,  that I am discussing is a native of Washington DC, a registered nurse, and a member of a Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. She has never been married and she also happens to be 34-years-old. Her last boyfriend of four years left her for another woman after Miz Thang put him through law school. She is a member of my aunt’s church who decided that we should meet each other.

The Meeting: We went on one date to a baseball game on Sunday, August 18th. She was late because she went to brunch with her “girlfriends” and couldn’t make the 1:30PM start time. We arrived sometime after the 3rd inning, sat and talked. She wasn’t hungry. I bought her ice cream anyway. The Nationals won the game in extra innings and we went back to my place where she demanded to see proof that I was employed. I gave her a business card, but she was adamant that more proof be offered because people could have business cards printed anywhere. I showed her my W-2 from last year and then we settled on the balcony and chatted some more. I must not have been all that interesting to her because she fell asleep during the conversation. I took that as my cue to walk her back to her car before we went our separate ways. I thought she had a lot of baggage but also a lot of potential. I think that it is worth noting here that I’m also an idiot, though.

The Follow-up Conversation: After talking about incidentals and whatnot on the phone, I told her that I would pick our third date if she would pick the second. Her choice was for me to go over to her house to hang blinds. I balked at the idea, although I begrudgingly said that I could help her on the weekend, just not during the week. She meant for me to come over and hang blinds at her house the next day: a Tuesday. When I asked if she was going to make me dinner or a sandwich or something for helping her, I didn’t get the response that I expected. She basically straight up said she didn’t feel like doing it.  But she still wanted to know why I couldn’t just do it without expecting anything in return. I suppose that I could have done it out of the kindness of my heart, but instead I couldn’t wait to get off the phone. I made up a semi-viable excuse and bailed on the set. I was mad at myself for committing to helping her on Saturday because I knew that Rudy would have a field day with tales of me Simping in the game.

The Follow-up to the Follow-up Conversation: I let it breathe for a day to see if that lady was really as bad-crazy as I thought that she was. It turns out, that she was even bad-crazier than I thought. I guess she was a Facebook detective or something because I started getting all types of text messages about the women in my photos. Being the basic black girl that she is, she had a hard time wrapping her head around why every single woman in my pictures wasn’t black. She must have taken her inquiry to our only mutual friend because she asked a person that I have only seen twice since graduating college if I had a girlfriend. The mutual friend who shall be called Lacy for the sake of expedience said that she thought that I might have been dating someone back in February.

Side note:  No offense to Lacy, but it would be like me commenting that I wasn’t even really friends with on an everyday level.  Fraternities & sorority associates are in a different category with me.  (Yeah, we’re cool by organization but we probably shouldn’t be considered friends if I only see you at homecoming and fraternity/sorority functions, so make sure that you holler at The Bruzz.)  Lacy attended an affair to which I escorted a friend that happens to be Caucasian so there is some basis for her assumption, although that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Either way, there we were in July, and this lady is asking people that I don’t even really know all that well what my relationship status was.  Did I mention that I went on that one date back in February?

The Result: I called Miz Thang on the phone and told her that I didn’t have a girlfriend. I tried to get past the whole manual labor, date thing and I even expressed my plans for the third date. (I was hoping that she had better plans for a second date than me hanging her blinds.) Instead, the woman continued to assert that I was at fault for pursuing her when I had a girlfriend. I tried to tell her that if I had a girlfriend then why would my aunt try to hook me up with someone from her own church? She didn’t ever acknowledge that her line of thinking could possibly be false. I carefully listened to her entire rationalization for such accusations and then I calmly said that I’d “call later” and then I got off the phone. I just didn’t see the benefit of defending myself to a woman that I wasn’t even interested in, anymore. It is never an enjoyable feeling when you’re basically picking up where someone else left off.  She was already assuming an adversarial relationship, and I’m not interested in those for my mate.  

The Action: Immediately upon ending the previous conversation I went online to Facebook and deleted the woman as a friend. My logic was solid and my action was precise: I had no intention of corresponding with her again. (I’m really good at excusing myself and I’ll leave at the drop of a dime.) The woman already had three strikes against her, and she wasn’t fine enough to get four. I didn’t send a nasty note with the de-friend on Facebook, I just did it quietly because honestly I didn’t really even know her well enough to care yet. The next day I got text saying “U deleted me from FB? I won’t contact u again.” I offered no response thinking that I actually got away pretty clean because she exhibited too many early signs of bad crazy. I never thought that I would hear from the woman again… And then…

The Blow Up:

Miz Thang August 24 at 10:00am Report

Hey Daniel,
i saw ur aunt at church today. she asked if we were dating. i told her we met and things didn’t work out and we dcided to go our seperate ways.

DanKnuckles August 24 at 10:05am

Seeing as though it’s my aunt, I might have beaten you to the punch.
My mom asked what ever happed to you and I told her that you accused me of having a girlfriend and that your idea of a second date was me coming over your house to hang your blinds. I didn’t even have to say anything else.
I’m almost positive that my mom said something to her sister.
Whatever happened to you not contacting me anymore?

Miz Thang August 24 at 1:51pm Report

I didnt accuse u Daniel! I told you what Lacy told me. U got upset and deleted me from ur fb page and never responded to my messages. I know u didnt tell ur mother i invited u to my house as a 2nd date to hang my blinds??? Are u serious??? i asked if u could do me a favor, what was the big deal???so u lied on me…

Miz Thang August 24 at 1:53pm Report

and stop being a smart ass daniel..

DanKnuckles August 24 at 3:14pm

Well the big deal is that I’m not some Mexican dude outside of home depot. You could easily pay someone to do your bidding around the house. I was insulted by your request. Seeing as though we had just met -and under the circumstances of me attempting to date you, I found your favor highly unusual. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so unusual after the third or fourth date, but because I just met you it seemed rather ludicrous.
As for what Lacy told you, there is little that I can say. If you would take Lacy’s word that I have a girlfriend over my own, then I hope that you and Lacy are happy together in your beliefs. However the intimation that my family was somehow complicit in some grand scheme to get me into your panties even though I have a girlfriend was even more insulting. Your failure to see the audacity of that scenario is what led to our disassociation. What else am I supposed to say?

Miz Thang August 24 at 3:54pm Report

there is nothing else to say..

The Grand Finale:  It was at this point that I had to go back to Lacy, and mutual friend and set the record straight. I told her that all she had to do was ask me next time so she could report accurately on my relationship status instead of guessing. Lacy is cool and took it in stride and said something to the effect that she didn’t believe that we could have worked out anyway. Apparently Lacy mentioned our correspondence to Miz Thang because two days later, I got this…

Miz Thang August 26 at 12:45am Report

I can’t believe u said something to Lacy.. grow up Daniel…

DanKnuckles August 26 at 7:29am

I wouldn’t have had anything to say, if you would have just kept your word and left me alone. At the end of the day, Lacy is my sorority sister and you’re just some chick that has some serious issues. I have to see her again. You, on the other hand could just stop contacting me and that would probably be the end of it. But you haven’t really tried that yet, have you? Stay out of my business.

Miz Thang August 26 at 9:37am Report

Some chick???WOW. I will never contact u again. YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE.

DanKnuckles August 26 at 9:46am

Please excuse "some chick." You are a woman with serious issues.

Miz Thang August 26 at 9:47am Report

because i took the word of my friend?? and asked u to do a simple task around my house?? Leave me alone..You are a jerk

DanKnuckles August 26 at 9:55am

Believe what you want to believe. Hang your own damn blinds. I am not the initiator of these conversations that we have been having. If you had kept your thoughts to yourself and just kept it moving you wouldn’t be forced to look at yourself for what you are: shallow, unromantic, stubborn, nosy, distrusting, racist, spinster.
Mind your business and don’t call no names. I can get much uglier than you can in print: I’m a writer. You’re still using children’s abbreviations and you write letters like SMS texts.

Miz Thang August 26 at 10:02am Report

Daniel, this is fb.. Get real. I am capable of writing as well. I have a MSA. You have serious issues.

Lessons learned:

  1. Black girls aren’t easy. Want-to-be bourgeoisie black girls are impossible.
  2. My policy to cut bait isn’t entirely unfounded: stick to quitting early.
  3. Every first date should be as cheap and revealing.
  4. I need to post my W-2 and credit score conspicuously around the house.
  5. My family will stop at nothing to get me the most pussy possible.
  6. It is totally acceptable to ask someone to do some “simple tasks” around your house as a means of getting to know each other or in lieu of a second date.

I guess momma won’t be feeding me any of her sorority girls for a while.

Now Listen… NFBPA Christmas Affair and Psyched Expectations

December 11, 2008

“Now listen, Mr. Pretty Tony, I mean you know the rules: I mean your bitch just chose me…” -Max Julien in The Mack.

Last night I attended the National Forum for Black Public Administrators Christmas party.  Even though it was another Black bourgeoisie affair, I had a good time at the Thurgood Marshall Center located at 12th and U Streets.  It is easy to forget that these soirées often produce eye candy of epic proportions, and last night I was pleasantly reminded.

As a general rule, while attending these functions you are supposed to network and introduce yourself to as many people as possible.  I arrived a little early, sans a date for the billionth year in a row, and busied myself by looking for my favorite legal social lubricant.  Imagine my surprise when I finally got access to the bar that they would not be serving the Glenlivet scotch that I could plainly see behind the counter.  I was truly devastated and needed consoling because I had recently purchased $20 worth of drink tickets in anticipation of the long evening of schmoozing ahead.

Disappointed and dejected, I shuffled off to the entrance to see all of the arrivals.  Not longer than twenty minutes later some friends of mine that work for the DC Parks & Recreation came over and started chatting small talk.  We were definitely the youngest folks in the room so I obliged them even though I was thinking that I would really like to leave the event all together.  Then, as if on cue, the beauties started rolling in wearing their too-tight for business suits and high-heeled finery.  Being old enough to read the writing on the wall, I ditched the boys and headed back to the bar for a Heineken prop to nurse for the rest of the evening.

After I exchanged my drink ticket for the beer I did a quick scan of the room and saw one young lady that got my attention.  This woman was completely gorgeous and impeccably dressed in an immaculate cream pantsuit that revealed a perfectly shaped, pleasantly plump ass.  Clearly she was the belle of this ball but I was a little hesitant to commit myself to making any viable play at conversation with her.  I don’t usually try to holler because that is just not my modus operandi.  Besides the music was way too loud where she was standing and she appeared to be escorted by a man that could have been my father.  Now that I think of it, the man could have been her father as well, only I knew it wasn’t because he was a high ranking DC government official with no children to speak of.

None of this information changed anything for me, but as I was processing it a coworker of mine stood directly next to the questionable couple.  Free from devious intentions I made my way over to bestow happy holiday wishes on my office mate and inadvertently stumbled into the pleasantries and conversation with those nearby.  I don’t remember what I said, and those that know me know that I couldn’t have said much, but I wound up dancing with the young lady while her older escort went off to mingle.  At this point the discrepancy must have entered my mind that the old man would be committing the classic faux pas of abandoning a diamond in a room full of thieves.  In my mind there was no way this guy was trying to keep this lady if he let her go so easily.

The woman looked like a super model, only with a better body, so any man in his right mind would not have stood by idly as she traipsed off with me into the parlor in order to escape the heat of the dance floor and a few prying eyes.  I know for a fact that he wasn’t waiting to ask for the next dance (which is what I would have done -if I were him) because we both stopped to pick up our drinks before retiring to talk some more.  I made the excuse of not being able to hear what she was saying over DJ Biz Markie’s scratching and cutting and checked all around for anyone that might be seeing this.  I have such a low success rate in the pick-up game that even a prospect is notable for me.  While walking through the hallway, I got the validation that I was seeking: an old friend from college, Sinclair Skinner, witnessed the young lady’s fitness and proceeded to yell “hey Danny, where are you going?”

Of course, because Sinclair is a Nupe [read: a member of Kappa Alpha Psi, fraternity of shameless pretty boys] I knew that his shouting was a rouse, even a compliment.  When the Nupes see you putting in good work you can expect them to behave in this way unless they feel that they can weasel their way in to your good fortune.  I continued past Sinclair and offered and over-the-shoulder sneer, being careful that the young lady walking behind me couldn’t see.  I was fortunate enough that she didn’t know my name well enough to know that the shouting was directed at our blatant escape and my improbable accomplishment. How improbable?  Let’s just say that ten years removed from The Yard and guys in rival fraternities still remember the fact that I don’t try to pick women up.  I have always been known to have the “fall-in-my-lap-or-forget-it” policy along with living the Notorious B.I.G. “I don’t chase them, I replace them” maxim.

As luck would have it, the stars must have been somewhat aligned for me last night because as the lady and I sat there and pretended to drink I discovered that she was new to the area, in need of a younger guide, and more interesting than what met the eye.  Over the course of about an hour we sat down nervously discussing our backgrounds and gauging each others interest.  Black college: check. Damn she has a widow’s peak like Lisa Ray! Why does she have perfectly shaped lips, a cute nose, and a honey-caramel complexion? She is highly educated. She holds two masters degrees: one in neuroscience from Wake Forest, and the other in public health from Duke. She has a great job: she works for the FDA. Okay, but why does she have a great sense of humor for a nerd? And why does she have to love football? I slowly started to realize that this sort of thing just doesn’t happen very often, and that if something appeared to be too good to be true, it probably was.

I started directing my questions to look for the cracks but there weren’t any. For the brief seconds that I got her to talk about an ex, she only blamed herself for not making it work and didn’t have any crazy animosity or vindictive tendencies.  Then I started looking for the hidden camera, but I couldn’t find it.  I really thought that I was on some television show like candid camera because there is no way in hell a woman this fine was interested in me.  But what can I say?  My life is a movie.  I’ve dated some real lookers, some famous and some not-so-famous, but at least I still believed that I would have shot because of background provided by a very loving sister that made it happen.  Here I was standing on my own merits and I was apparently winning.  I had to stop myself from raising my arms above my head and singing “We Are the Champions” as I ran around the coffee table.  Before I could make an ass of myself, my guy instinct kicked in and I began to close the deal.

After exchanging email addresses, because that is what nerds do, I suggested that we go back into the main dance hall to avoid any suspicion that we were lingering amorously.  I wasn’t so much concerned about the old man anymore, but I was thinking that I didn’t want to answer to the peanut gallery.  We both had perfect timing and got back to our respective parties an hour or so after we initially left.  We found each other for a dance or two when DJ Biz Markie was at his best, and I spent the rest of the time watching her from afar in a complete stupor.  My mother caught me staring and even though Mom is blind in one eye said, “She’s a very pretty one!”  She’s so super fine that I’m not even sure if the two of us could work.  She’s the kind of fine that makes your friends mad because they didn’t see her first or have the good sense to hold out until she came along.

She was dancing with the older, distinguished alderman and the thought popped into my head to send her posterior to my friends for posterity.  I almost blew the whole thing by trying to snap a picture of her fine ass with my camera phone… I know: I’m really immature.  I didn’t do it, but I still sort of wish that I did.  I don’t know what I would do today if I didn’t have proof that Kelis was my date to my thirtieth birthday party.  If you can’t brag about stuff like this to your boys, then what are you really doing with your life?  Besides, meeting is fleeting.  There is no telling if anything would ever even come of our making acquaintances.  You all should know by now that I am a notorious ball dropper.  And just when I was drifting off into the abyss of possibilities glancing furtively at the incredible orb that was her dancing ass, momma said, “She’s probably going to be his fifth wife…”

I promise, I’ll stop being a momma’s boy when momma stops being so right.

More gems from momma: “Old men have aspirations, too.” And let’s not forget, “Pretty girls are never lonely.”

Transparently I’m A Ghost

September 28, 2006

Transparently, I’m a Ghost

 

I only like to holler one time in a relationship.  I’m the kind of person that will only vie for the affection of a woman once, and then move on.  I only like to break up once too.  I only like to give a person one chance with my heart before I take it back forever.  I guess you can say that I don’t deal with rejections very well.

 

Life is too short to be running around in circles or chasing bitches down.  I have never once been accused of being a stalker by one of my ex-girlfriends.  When it is over and sometimes, while the fat lady is still singing, I’m usually long gone. 

 

I don’t harbor any grudges towards any of my exes but I rarely speak to them because I have trouble coming up with reasons to do so.  Being completely honest, I rarely ever see them again, and when I do, it’s just in passing.  I have a way of disappearing into the fabric of society and falling off the face of the globe.  Only my closest friends have figured out ways to contact me when this occurs.

 

When I don’t want to be found, there is a pretty good bet that you won’t find me.  I have no ties whatsoever that I will not sever in an instant if my freedom is jeopardized.   There are only a few regions of the world that I would not feel comfortable in, and my passport is up to date and ready for continued use. 

 

To make matters worse, or better –depending on how you look at it- I’m black which pretty much guarantees that I look like everybody else that is black to the usual authorities.  If I don’t tell you, then you probably wouldn’t be able to guess my ancestry correctly either.  In Nigeria they say “Yoruba” and in the Caribbean they call me “bredren.”

 

I have one of those unique faces that many countries would claim as the best representative of “their” people.   It is an unusual gift that I don’t spoil by opening my mouth all of the time.  What is more, there are so many places to go and so little time in which to travel to all of the destinations that delight my heart! 

 

So I guess you can say that if I’ve given the impression that I will be sticking to a particular location in the U.S. or otherwise, no hard feelings.  Actually I don’t have any feelings, at all.  Is there anyone else out there that is an expatriate living in the same country that he or she is expatriated from?  I’m just curious to know if globalization has opened up everyone’s mind as much as mine as to the possibility of packing up one day and never coming back?

 

Transparently, I’m a ghost, but am I the only one?

Classic Friendship Pitch I

September 28, 2006

"Black." 

 

"Bourgeoisie."

 

"Freemason."

 

I’ve been called worse.

I’ve never been arrested. Heck, I usually don’t get traffic tickets. I obey the laws of the land, and when I don’t -I try not to ever get caught. I’m a good citizen, despite the fact that this country, and society, typically treats a black man with substandard regard.  I lost the chip on my shoulder about all that after traveling and seeing first hand that those people are in the vast minority, if one were to consider the whole entire world.

Still, I’m down with political discussions but prefer making it happen through (affirmative) action. I’m a dreamer but only because I’m an idealist. I’m conservative only because I’m practical, and yet, still tolerant of others. Hey, I’ve got a job I love and I don’t live with anybody. Also I won’t ask you to sin on my behalf because I’m not married (never been) or separated.  Woohoo! Yippee. Welcome to the world of normal people that are not all the same.

I’m tired of being ignored, discounted, or prematurely disqualified. I mean that’s just ridiculous because it’s 2006, already. I try to respect people’s preferences by not confronting people that are borderline racist but it is a little perturbing when people are over-the-top xenophobes when it comes to picking FRIENDS.

Sorry to break it to you this way. All people are not the same and the world is a better place for it.

Relax, catch your breath. Let’s be friends. I want to hear from women that think that good men and friends don’t exist in my shade. They do. Also any men that are in the brotherhood and know enough to decipher my initials that have sound advice: hail me.  Consider this a test, but don’t sweat it, you can figure out where this is going if you know where you’re from.

 

PS  I can fill and unforgiving minute with sixty seconds of distance run.

Charging the Catch-22 Game

September 8, 2005
Charging the Catch-22 Game
 
I went all in with eyes wide open. I even went through the trouble of writing down rules of engagement so as not to get caught unawares. I only got to three before I recognized the pattern: 1. No getting right back together without discussing important issues. 2. No getting back together no matter how torrid the break-up sex. 3. Don’t spend any money on not getting back together. Relationship ending is a nasty thing. The separation of pledged souls is never supposed to occur, you know? For any two souls can be meshed together somewhat with the right amount of love so when mistakes are made the guilt lies solely with the amalgamated product, or more plainly, the sum of it’s independent parts. It’s a sticky business as well with bits and pieces of the ridded aberration clinging to you like napalm, all jelly-like, but still burning all the while. There is no stop drop and roll when someone that you desperately love decides to leave you, either. The good part is that you only suffer so long before you go numb and black out.

Blacking out is the thing to do these days because who wants to keep track of how many brutally fatal relationships you are going to have? I mean, am I supposed to be keeping score of exactly how many good women I’m going to disappoint in one way or another so that they can’t stand being with me? I certainly don’t keep track of the one’s that disappoint me. And maybe that is the problem. I’m not in contact with enough of the people that are in a position to give me positive feedback. Most of them are too busy enjoying the successes of blissful marriage and committed arrangements to trifle with helping me now. I guess that is the burden of being a thirty-year-old bachelor. All the girls that you fuck up with supposedly on your way up, you have to eventually hunt down again to confirm that you’ve been traveling in the wrong direction the entire time.

This shit is so confusing that I need to keep a log. I used to keep two lists but they serve no functional purpose now other than reminding me that I am an optimistic womanizer. A catalog of women that I want to bang and women that I have banged is far from a meaningful and useful tool to help me rectify my emotionally bereft approach to finding a soul mate. And why not give into the temptation and just run with emotions, you ask? Because no woman in her right mind is selecting a man solely on the basis of her emotions and neither should I. Everything these days is about what you do for a living and where you went to college. Those subjects are not exactly the foundations of strength that they should be for most of the African-american male population. While I am considered as one of the lucky college graduates with a middle class “good government” job I still identify with the brothers that have to make do with less because I still have to see them everyday.

I live in the hood and I go to the clubs so I wind up competing directly with the rest of the sharks in the gene pool. It’s hard to get past those two initial questions and I can see it on brothers’ faces when they are ready to fold before a girl even calls a bluff. I understand that in the world of “bling” and ice there has to be casualties but the black man is already going extinct as it is. There isn’t much hope for finding what you want when everything that looks good is taken by the bigger and badder fish story. Chances are that you don’t play for the Knicks and your not coming out with your third consecutive album in three years and you’ll have to settle for whatever is left. And whatever is left are those disappointed disaffected and often disrespected women that chased their dream and realized they didn’t have enough of the goods to lure in the mother lode catch of a lifetime. Truth be told, there were never enough of those to go around in the first place and most were living the waking dream and quietly working towards fulfilling their own fantasies.

And this is when I really feel for most of the Black males that are below average according to European standards. The women that go out and make their dreams come true should be commended and uplifted but jealousy and fears of inadequacy only serve to undermine anything that a man can say to someone outside of his station. Part of the reason is that as the initiator, a man isn’t even supposed to be in that conversation store unless he intends to buy into the fact that he can offer anything that isn’t just plain lewd. (Cock for cocktails and some tail never add up.) If Black women were more like some white people, they would follow broke brothers around the club and deter them from aspiring too high. Thank God for blanket wholesale materialism in the Black community that let’s the disenfranchised roll out in Polo and Versace with security in the numbers of people who place social status values on what they wear. Sure there are many times when the roles are reversed, but men seldom get the divine break of the “beautiful clause” which can propel them into socio-economic nirvana. For one thing, if a nigger really is that pretty he’s not too concerned about a woman in first place.

Anyway there are a lot of different sets and sub sets of sets. Financially challenged, educationally limited, and even gay brothers are just going to have to deal with that. When Too $hort rapped “get in where you fit in” he was preaching to the choir of men doing just that, and eking by. I suppose that there could be an exact match for everybody but that doesn’t make it any easier sifting through the pile of mismatches, now does it? My game comes as easy as I can take it. Flings turn into regular things, which turn into casual relationships, which turn into serious relationships that usually end. It’s a pretty simple and anticlimactic process, actually, that is somewhat similar to watching a solar eclipse with the naked eye. You may not feel the impending loss with every passing moment that it draws nigh but you are fully aware that it was a bad idea to undertake such a foolish endeavor just to satisfy your curiosity from the very beginning.

And oh how my curiosity makes me weak! I’m always curious to know if the next one is, in fact, the one. Sometimes I’m even curious to know if the one that I just left is, in fact, the one. This is why I need rules, though, and I recognize my weakness can’t be totally controlled but at least I can have some semblance of dignity. Pride is so hard to swallow when the very nature of your being there entertaining the idea of a relationship is an admission that you are emotionally invested in the outcome, either way. It’s all loser’s catch-22 when you have to convince your soul mate that you were meant to be together even though you have no intention of making good on that promise because someone that was meant for you wouldn’t have to be convinced in the first place. Nobody wins in any of these scenarios anyway, and it’s best to put on the most resilient face possible and to try and defy the odds.