Coffee Rhetoric: Dating
Showing posts with label Dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dating. Show all posts

June 15, 2012

In Which Coffee Rhetoric Explores Dates From Hell

ID Discovery has found yet another re-enactment driven reality series to put the fear in folks. A new show called Dates From Hell, set to air sometime within the month or next, will feature stories (from mostly women, I presume) recounting harrowing and life threatening experiences while out on dates with folks, who undoubtedly appeared charming at first. On the Coffee Rhetoric page, I asked people to share their most nightmarish or embarrassing dating stories.


Jessica wrote... 
I met a guy from Eharmony for coffee once. In the interest of full disclosure he informed me that he had just gotten out of prison for burning down a local restaurant. He claimed he "did not like his pancakes." Needless to say, that was our one and only encounter. I shudder to think what he'd do to me if I cooked him a meal he did not enjoy!
In a story that would definitely make for an interesting episode on "Dates From Hell", ShayandLarry Strickland shared... 
On my fourth date with an IT tech who was on call and had to stay home near his computer and asked if we could do dinner and a rented movie at his place. I was like okay, so we went to Blockbuster. He asked me to pick a movie from a genre I like and so I did (can't remember which movie but it was a horror movie). He said he would pick a Horror movie too and picked up a Tom Hanks movie to which I laughed and said, "That is what you think a horror movie is?" He abruptly threw the movie to the ground, grabbed my hand and hurried me out of the place. In his car he turned to me and said in a thundering, screamy voice, "How dare you disrespect me!" I was like, "Hunh?" Then he went on a tirade about how women should never contradict their husbands in public and he was two seconds from choking me. I promptly got out of the car went back into the store and called someone to pick me up. Needless to say I stop contacting him. He IM'd me once to say, "I hope you've learned your lesson and we can pick up where we left off since I have calmed down." 


Reading people's anecdotes brought me back to a hellish night I experienced one cold November evening in 2005 that involved some wine wrangling, a prosthetic foot, and bad-touching. I was so awe-struck, I had to split it up in five chapters, in a post called...

Curiosity Killed The Cat: A Long Discourse in Five Chapters... 


Prologue 

Wednesday afternoon found me antsy and anxious to leave work early, to run what I imagined would be, some quick errands, as my best friend Cat was coming to visit through to Sunday evening. A lovely, hearty time was had. No complaints about her visit. What transpired later on in the evening, following her safe arrival, however was a whole other matter. Let me walk you through it. P.S. I pondered not sharing this story because I am trying desperately to block it from my mind. Yes. It's safe to say I was traumatized. Cat surmised that it was just too funny (albeit it a little freaky) not to share. 

Chapter I

About a week and 1/2 ago, I put a profile up on a popular social-networking site, in hopes of maintaining contact with those friends spread-out around the country. It seemed innocent enough. I was not looking for dates; but was open to gaining new contacts and networking, in addition to staying in touch with friends. I filled in my profile stats and uploaded some “artsy” looking pictures of myself. Messages started trickling into my inbox, most of which were from local men varying from ages 20 to 38 and some of whom wrote the following... 

"Yo, you like white guys? If you do, then I'm da one, holla".
Or …

"Yo, your name coffey fits you, because you're dark and delicious, no disrespect". 

And my personal fave…

"Yo' coffey, you caffeinated enough to keep me up all night?" 

Another was a lengthy request from a man from Ghana who said that if I wasn't interested in being his pen pal, he would appreciate it if I'd pass his information on to someone else who would be. Delete. I chuckled at the messages (to mask my dismay) and immediately trashed them in the cyber-bin. Some inboxes were innocent enough; requesting to be put on my friends list, so I obliged. I even sent a friend request to poet and actor, Saul Williams, to which he promptly accepted and reciprocated, I was stoked. Needless to say, I started exchanging messages with a man, 29 years old. We in-boxed back and forth and he seemed normal enough. We seemed to share similar interests, he lived close-by, he was respectful and very articulate; I made sure to compliment him for acting respectful in his initial query to be virtual friends. Weeks later, he offered his phone number and asked me to call him at my leisure. A week after receiving the number, I’d finally mustered up the courage to use it. In my defense, it had also been an extremely hectic month for me, so I simply just didn't have the time to call a stranger. He was patient, seeming to understand. 

So on a Tuesday at around 9pm, I finally decided to call him. I got his voice-mail (sigh of relief). He sounded pleasant on his voice greeting. I left a message, which included my phone number. I told him I'd be busy the next couple of days, because my best friend was visiting from out of town, but that I'd try to call back, perhaps from work. I supplemented my voice-mail message with an email, asking for a reprieve, because I didn't want him to think I was a wishy-washy jerk, because I kept telling him I'd call, and didn't. He e-mailed me back and assured me that he understood and mentioned he was out having dinner with friends anyway, and didn’t think I was being a flake at all. 

READ THE REST HERE

What are some of YOUR hellish dating stories?
Share in the comments section or join the discussion on the Coffee Rhetoric Facebook page.





March 02, 2012

Date Like A Dummy, Think Like a Foolio, REDUX

Foreword: Overcoming Interracial Dating Myopia

I realize this is the second time I've re-posted an essay but I've been a bit lazy busy working on a few other things and I've got a few topic ideas I need to mentally sift through before blogging them. Additionally, I've been reading some rather… disappointing things across the Black Blogosphere and feel that certain posts apply. Rather than blogging the same thing in some other written variation, I figured I'd offer a brief foreword as a prelude to the re-post. I've been reading some interesting articles (none of which I care to link) and some equally as interesting-- (if not downright disturbing) -- commentary from readers... many of whom are Black women. It seems as if a certain sub-group of my sistren has the dating game all twisted and are vigilant about 'White Knighting' other ill-informed forum commentators… throwing other Black women under the bus in the process.
The concept of agreeing to disagree, respectfully, seems to get lost in translation whenever the issue of interracial dating comes up.

Living and letting live, would be the ideal way for one to date however, those of my sistren (mostly) and brethren who are emphatic about dating other don't seem to be genuine in their dating intentions, as they almost seem to be political. In pushing their agenda(s); climbing on a soapbox and using their respective relationships to antagonize others for who they're attracted to-- (even going so far as to resort name-calling). In being completely frank in my assessment, much of the vitriol I read, came (and comes) from a collective of Black women who are seemingly still hurt by prior relationships and harbor feelings of resentment (despite proclamations of feeling empowered and free). I actually just learned about terms like "DBR" (Damaged Beyond Repair) - Black men and have read pointed attack-words like "stupid, weak, (fat) Black women" and my favorite, "DBR enablers".  Language like this is counterproductive and sanctimonious, as the people at the helm of the hate, demand to have the right to love who they want to love yet, can't seem to do so in earnest.

I never understood why the topic of interracial dating has us (the Black community) at such odds with one another; or why some folks are supposedly so happy with the opportunity to explore their options, yet are so pressed by who someone else is sleeping with or dating and seem bent on projecting their personal aesthetic on others… and will lash out when all their prodding is rejected.
What the hell is wrong with us? Why can't folks just genuinely like who they like, date and marry who they want to date and marry, without there needing to be a motive or agenda behind it; and leave other folks to their own dating devices? Do we really need a How-to manual written by a few self-righteous proselytizers with an axe to grind on something as superficial as "how to attract a White man", belittling other Black women for not trying "something new" and demanding that they mold themselves to fit a beauty mold, dictated by societal norms? Additionally, do we need to be subjected to rap songs ridiculing Black women for not having the right complexion or hair? People who are genuinely empowered, free, and secure with their dating choices, don’t need to indulge in extraneous foolery. Folks have got the game all twisted and need to succumb to the four G’s (Good Goddess Get a Grip!) Just... stop.

Anyway, without further ado...

January 23, 2012

Blogging Elsewhere: Think Like a Dummy, Date Like a Foolio- The Myth of the Great White Hope

In the wake of all of the media attention aimed at Black women, which included but wasn’t limited to; ill-advised dating advice from comedians turned quasi-relationship experts, speculation about why we’re single and unmarried, No Wedding No Womb baby-mama campaign, why we are supposedly threatened by Kim Kardashian’s elegance, grace, and beauty, and play-play scientific charts documenting why we’re unattractive, many of us were flustered by the Tragic, Angry, Single Black Woman meme and exasperated with defending ourselves. The Black woman’s sensibilities definitely took a bit of a hit in the press and in popular culture. At Ariana Proehl’s (of Know This! TV) urging, I also resolved to put the tired trope to rest.  I didn’t want to lend the insanity any more credence or energy.
That promise notwithstanding, no agenda geared toward Black women is equally as annoying as the Black Women Are Better off  With and Simply MUST Date White Men or Will melt Into a Sticky Puddle of Nothingness and Despair propaganda, pushed by certain ones of my sistren is. Of late, articles are cropping up using another angle to access and publicly analyze our dating lives and there have been videos featuring groups of giddy Black women promoting bulleted lists of reasons why dating White men is somehow essential to our survival and livelihood. And it has to absolutely be White men… and none other, or else we’re doomed!
Author Niki McElroy has been making the social media rounds, promoting her book A Black Girl’s Guide to Dating White Men and espousing the attributes that will allegedly get Black women picked by a trophy husband (let’s cut the double-standard and call it what it so obviously is). In a video clip from a show called Everyway Woman, McElroy suggests that her current dating choices are relegated to White men and she wrote the book to placate her curious girlfriends’ queries. While I have no issue with interracial dating, believe in dating with an open mind, and have done so several times for no particular reason or sans any ulterior motives other than shared interests/mutual attraction/because I just wanted to make-out with a willing partner,  I do have a problem with people who date other, purely for opportunistic and superficial reasons or to prove some myopic argument. READ THE REST...
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December 06, 2011

Love Rain...


I fancy myself a pop-culture pundit of sorts and so am not ashamed to admit that this includes my succumbing to the Reality TV/Celebreality machine. Likewise, I also try to stay abreast of social media buzz and peep what blogs, cyber-mags, and social networking forums are on about. The two mediums seem to go hand-in-hand, particularly when the "Black Twitter" collective is concerned. Black tweeters bring the LOLz and they come, guns blazing, when skewering Black celebrities for some foolish infraction. Black politicians, especially of the Conservative-Republican variety, aren't above Twitter reproach either... (Herman Cain-kabob anyone?).

Perhaps the best, below-the-belt barbs and Twitter hash-tags come during the hours reality shows such as Real Housewives of Atlanta, The Braxtons, Basketbell Wives, Love & Hip Hop and shows of that ilk are on. Some of the more snarky Black tweeters hit their mark with their quips during some of the more ridiculous, off-the-cuff scenes. Then there're those who incite the rest of us to chorus and ask "Huh?" after they’ve tweeted something... well... dumb or misguided.
Per usual, folks did not disappoint during Love & Hip Hop, which was followed up by the premiere of T.I. and Tiny: The Family Hustle, VH-1's latest reality offering, which documents the lives of rapper T.I. (fresh from a second prison stint) and his long suffering girlfriend-turned-wife Tiny, of Xscape and BET's Tiny & Toya fame.

Surprisingly, Black women on Twitter seemed to saturate their chonies with crème-de-la-lady leche and began espousing the virtues of  true  love during some of the more pivotal scenes on Love & Hip Hop (when rapper Jim Jones finally implored his  mother to stop antagonizing his embattled and always battling lady-in-waiting, Chrissy Lampkin. Jones later pledged his undying affection for Chrissy by placating her o’er top of a roof for a Moroccan inspired dinner with all the decorative fixings). T.I's - (who makes it known under no uncertain terms, that he wears the pants and bankrolls day-to-day operations in his relationship with Tiny) - obvious loyalty to his blended family and wife is undeniable. In fact, seeing it played out on TV caused a collective genital quake across Twitter however; the relationship has been fraught with well-documented legal troubles and alleged cheating. But this did not stop some women from christening Jim and T.I.'s dysfunctional relationships with their women as the blueprint for Black love. I’d be willing to wager that some of these admirers of dysfunctional love, were some of the same detractors of single-motherhood who suggested single moms should aspire to be like Beyonce and Jay Z, shortly after her pregnancy announcement. They lashed out, calling all Snarky McSnarksteins jealous haters who can't get a man or sustain a relationship ...  ...  ...  OK.

One writer for the popular online publication, Clutch Magazine, posted a whole article citing these two televised relationships as heartfelt and wrote:

"Say what you will about Tiny and T.I.’s hoodrich love, but theirs is the type of relationship many long for: Loving, affectionate, fun, respectful, and supportive. Just like Jim and Chrissy, watching T.I. and Tiny interact on screen made it clear that they are genuinely in love and they want the world to know."  

Much to the chagrin of some commenters, who cyber side-eyed the piece... 

"T.I and Jim Jones… you have to be kidding!  What I don’t understand is this constant need to look to celelbrities [sic] as role models. I mean I really don’t understand it. I would like to hope these old a$$ men would want to settle down. T.I with all those d@mn kids! Jim jones and Dipset with the way the [sic] talk about women…"

Listen, while no one deserves to be crucified for their past and everyone has the right to err, love, and be loved; Why is it that some in our community put these dysfunctional "ride or die" relationships on a pedestal (especially when a man of questionable character is at the helm, trying to overcompensate for having put  his paramour or wife through years of hell), yet will belittle others (usually when a woman *read unwed baby mama* is the crux of the conversation)? While it's undoubtedly love that they're feeling, it just isn't the standard for Black Love like some people are trying to suggest. Relationships riddled with drama may work for some, but doesn't for everyone else, and if that makes me sound like a bitter, single, jealous hag then... that's the ignoramus, narrow view of a naysayer. 

This comment from the aforementioned online magazine sums it up: “You can’t turn a hoe into a housewife, but you can turn a drug dealer into a husband?” Well, I guess you should ask Beyonce and Tiny.  Apparently thugs can grow into men, probably an exception and not a rule though. While it’s cute, sweet, and seems genuine, don’t get wrapped up in the love and hip-hop thinking it could be you."




October 24, 2011

These and Those: In Which My Hair Uncovers Dirty Truths


In these uncertain times where 9-to-5 jobs are difficult to come by due to asshole companies' discriminatory behavior and folks pushing forward to eke out an income working for themselves, money is tight and happy hour prices don't always put a smile on one's face once the bill comes. Fortunately Zula, located at 901 Main Street in downtown Hartford manages to keep it classy and sassy while providing a diverse crowd, good food, great music, and an outstanding happy hour from 4pm-7pm, so that folks don't side-eye their bill while angrily digging their wallet out of their purse or back pockets. $3 wines and drafts, $5 cocktails, and $4 plates. Why not? I was having a particularly good hair day this past Friday and ventured inside where I chatted up a personable and accommodating bartender named Jessica. 
Jessica kept me company and divulged interesting details about her life as a bartender before rapper, Keith Murray's sister found her way inside... apparently seduced by the halo of awesomeness that was my hair that day. She said she spied it through the plate glass window. My hair is touch and go whenever I wear un-bunned; some days it's just OK and other days it's particularly eye-catching. 

Now I'm familiar with this obviously cool woman (whose name always eludes me, unfortunately)- as I've run into her on numerous occasions downtown, where she resides. I had no idea until this past Friday that she was related to the Def Squad member, however. Keith's sister and I chatted about this and that... mostly regarding what her brother was currently up to and we pontificated a little about dating. Lately, I just choose not to do it. I'm really working on focusing getting to where I'd like to be professionally. Also, running into an unwanted nuisance I can't seem to escape a few days prior and then receiving a rambling voice mail this evening from another one, who once divulged an unfortunate story to me (on a FIRST quasi-DATE) about why his penis was virtually non-existent, has prompted me (an atheist type) to want to spend the remainder of my adult life in a convent for wayward dating souls. But I do enjoy hearing about what other people are up to in their love/sex lives. Keith Murray's sister spoke about a man she'd been dating for about a month, whose company she seemed to enjoy. He bought her gifts and he took her out to dine at fine restaurants. I happened to ask if they'd ever been to Zula. "This is too open for him. He likes more restrained, sort of fancier places. He probably wouldn't like this atmosphere." She suggested. We continued to make interesting conversation and shortly after, she excused herself to the bathroom. Suddenly a man and a young Black woman walked in. He pulled out Keith's sister's chair and  I alerted him, "Oh... someone's sitting there." He slid it back up to the bar sans incident... 
Keith's sister returned from the bathroom and surprised, hugged the man with familiarity. He and the young woman retreated to the opposite end of the bar. Considering our conversation just moments ago, Keith's sister alerted me that the man she hugged was the so-called charming fellow she'd been seeing, who bought her gifts, and who quite possibly would not take her out to dine at Zula... and it was obvious why. 

It gave me no pleasure whatsoever to see her obvious discomfort and dismay, especially when she said, "He told me he's here with someone else." I suggested that she "be cool" and finish enjoying her drink. A friend I spied and then a cool Hartfordite I recognized from and communicated with on Twitter, as well as an inebriated Afro-latina woman who mistakenly took and opened my purse to retrieve money to pay for her drinks would later distract me. So I never saw Keith's sister leave... The cad and his date were gone from the bar and slipped out into the cool, autumn night as well, and I wouldn't see how the awkward situation panned out in the end. My hope is that Keith's sister didn't go home too upset and put out. My hope is that I randomly run into her again. I'm not sure why this man felt compelled to try to put the wool over Keith Murray's sister's eyes and I won't speculate, as I've stopped trying to decipher the complicated adagio dance women and men, when courting one another. It's best to piss into the wind and just tread as steadily as one can in these matters. 

I'd like to think that if my hair hadn't been so awesome that day, Keith's sister would not have felt inspired to join me and stay long enough to see her paramour's dark-sided ways. And this is why I'll never bid my natural hair adieu. 

March 14, 2010

Push. Kick.

 To be able to reach the heights of purity you have to suffer through deprivation and humiliations. And what could have been a descent into hell becomes liberation.
-Catherine Breillat

<- ("Inner Peace" by Monica Stewart )
Being wanton, needy, and susceptible to dubious dating advice from so-called "experts" does not equate to being comfortable in one's skin and with one's sexuality. It's the minutest of details that illustrate that feeling of true liberation from the trials and tribulations of man/woman relationships, sex, and dating in general. A certain level of genuine aloofness... where you take sour lemons and make yourself a stiff (generous with the vodka) Lemon Drop martini, and rejoice.  Suddenly, the dead cow being sold to you gets a one-way ticket to the abattoir, providing you with delicious steaks to grill (medium rare), masticate slowly, swallow and then shit out in the bog pan later... relief and then flush, thank you very much.
 ("Contemplation" by Lee Ransaw) ->
The wishy-washy personality, inconsistent explanations about his state-of-affairs, knack for wasting your time, seeming comfort in being mediocre, inability to stick to a plan and see it to fruition, and bizarre extracurricular activities... none of it matters. Suddenly, not feeling obligated to return phone calls and texts in response to foolishness feels nothing short of... well... good, for what's good for the goose is definitely (without question) good for the gander. Closure is not seeking ... closure. Giving as much as you're receiving... in the form of not giving a shit... it's second nature now. Being on hiatus... succumbing to the frenzy of intimacy when *you* see fit to do so at your discretion, and being OK with it... never lamenting over what you aren't experiencing at that moment in space and time, because you're preoccupied with more pressing issues ... True freedom. Truth! Some might cry "CYNICISM!" ... but I chalk it up to being there, having done that, learning how to give the side-eye and moving on, and not projecting... because bitterness only increases one's self-imposed prison sentence. 
It's all about not caring, and meaning it. Learn it. Live it. A supple skin to wear for sure. *sips Lemon Drop martini*




January 28, 2010

Me Talk Pretty One Day

Snow fall, plus minimal sleep, coupled with grumpiness, divided by exasperation, multiplied by, "Wait, I'm flummoxed," plus "Bastard(s) please!"- minus zero booze equals my mind is on a marathon run, and it has a case of the disappointeds. 


"Sex only goes so far — then you want to be able to talk to the person..." -creator of that sex robot, talking, woman thing.
  • Smile! 
  • Slim down! 
  • Just nod! 
  • Go easy on the intellect, will you!
  • You're way too sophisticated for me (read: your brain is too high maintanence).
  • Only weigh-in when deferred to. 
  • You look angry. 
  • Bitch! 
  • I've created you in *my* image. Live up to it dammit!
  • Be infallible, pwetty pweeeease!
  • You're aging. Stop it at once before I upgrade!
  • I'll stalk you until you *do* give in! 
  • You're comfy with your sexuality? Then you're a slut, WHORE!
  • You can turn on the smart now. I'm ready for you. Bring it!
  • You should like this list of preferences, cuz it makes me happy and secure ... 
So many demands. The list seems endless. It becomes even more asinine and disturbing it its growth. Perhaps now that the latest and greatest in technological minds has created a sex robot (fresh off the AVN Porn Expo's showroom floor)  that focuses on "appealing to the mind." Real, living, and breathing women born of flesh and blood can exhale a little bit and get somewhat of a reprieve from living up to so many standards. Even if it seems to aim to make us obsolete (or to appeal to the socially inept male mind, who can't mesh well or deal with real female interaction anyway). Alas, an inanimate object, masquerading as a woman, reminiscent of a corpse can listen intently, as its human lover reads it passages out of David Levy's 'Love And Sex With Robots.' Ladies, hold tight to your vibrators. It doesn't judge or criticize, and will never demand that you "smile!" while walking past it.

January 24, 2010

Slippery When Wet


I recently damned the complexities of dating and all its bullshit to hell. Cynicism aside; Upon further discussions with friends newly found and old, recent meet & greets, as well as random acts of thinking on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I've concluded that finding a decent person to spend quality time with on occasion, is akin to holding onto a slippery bar of soap, while trying to keep your shit together in prison. I've never been to prison and have no aspirations of landing my big break in that particular environment, but I would imagine that lathering up in a communal shower while deep in thought over how the hell you found yourself there... and then dropping the soap, only to bend over without thought or caution and get reamed within an inch of your life in an opportunistic sneak attack, is a traumatizing experience to say the least. You have to hold onto that bar of soap for dear life, and be methodical with every move you make as you lather your skin in a circular motion, shifty eyed and leery.

Dating requires patience, maintaining tough but supple skin, methodical movements, intellect, caution, and engaging in a carefully choreographed Adagio dance or angry Tango Ultimo with the opposite sex. As frustrating as trying to foster or nourish a certain level of intimacy or rapport with someone is; Being aloof, intuitive, and resolute is a must. Because if you let yourself slip up and get mired in the foolishness--- bam! You're doubled over, screwed out of nowhere. It's le marcher fou des sexes for sure. I'm constantly dancing over potholes and bird shit. I've even tripped over a crack or two... But all praises due to ỌṣunI always manage to regain my footing before going down, face-first like a cheap, ten dollar whore. Not sure what my score card would read like though. I shudder at the thought. And I bathe with shower gel most days, rather than soap sooo--- yeah.

January 06, 2010

I Wish You ILL

It's official--
The mechanics of dating and its games has made me cynical. I never thought I would say the dreaded 'C' word out loud, but I am Coffey So Finicky, evermore. The advice books by men geared toward single women (ahem, Steve Harvey) with dubious track records of their own. The bullshit, the nonsense, the flakiness, the obvious lying and disingenuous behavior... It seems to know no bounds. If I hear one more man whine about how his last experience... or how his best friend's friend got hustled by a golddigger, who needed $50,000 transferred to her account, before she peeled of her panties- as a way to justify is jerkery, I may need to sharpen my nails into angular points, and claw my(or his) eyes out. I've no sympathy for men who get "took" as it were. Because many of you have laid the groundwork for and choreographed this sort of shady adagio dance, between the sexes. Don't project your insecurities and obvious shallowness-gone-wrong, onto other women with good intentions.
Perhaps some women of my ilk are destined to stay single and live a life riddled with carpal tunnel syndrome and AA batteries. But sometimes, I think that alternative is well worth it... if only to side-step the nonsense and fuckery associated with dating... and all the "messy unnecessaries" it entails. And anyway, I'll always still have great hair and skin. That is all.

December 10, 2009

NOT The One

I recently stumbled across a few websites, such as this one (my personal fave), mocking ill-thought out and poorly written dating ads. Interest piqued, I decided to reactivate a couple of dormant accounts on free social/dating sites, and do some perusing (in the name of research) myself.
So many Dating Profiles for Dummies type articles are written and seemingly geared toward women, suggesting how we might be able to get better results, if we spruce our profiles up a certain way... to endear ourselves to the male populace, who're undoubtedly trolling for creme de coochie as opposed to "Finding that true one." (Let's keep it real. That's what most of them are on there for. AdultFriendFinder and Craigslist be damned). "Be sure to include several, recent FULL BODY shots." ... "Be coquettish and clever with your headlines. But never come off as desperate or needy. Use catch phrases such as "Lioness needs keeper" some of the experts suggest. Every other week the Yahoo! homepage features articles titled "His Top 10 Turn-offs" or "Dating Site Techniques Every Woman Should Know."
Plenty do's and don't's for women... as many wave their arm in the air, yelling, "Pick me! Pick me! I'm beautiful, charming, and all of my pictures are recent!!!"
Careful inspection has prompted me to flip the script and offer my wry and sardonic take on my Top Turn-offs, when I attempt to read through some of profiles of the opposite sex. I see a notable pattern amongst all of them. Which causes me great distress, because some things should appear to be fundamental for those who don't think they're infallible. My $1.10 worth is definitely worth a damn, because the forums are rife with trolls and men, bemoaning the fact that women won't reply to their messages... and how we're only there to play games and collect emails...How we're all "bitches" with "saggy tits" who have no right to reject their advances.
One common theme in a lot of the profiles I skimmed when prompted by an email or a "favorited" status, is men starting off with a cynical or negative slant to their profile... "I don't know why I'm doing this, but here goes..." many read. Others ***PUT AN ALL CAPS WARNING*** hugged tightly by asterisks, at the beginning of their longwinded, grammatically incorrect decrees, that explicitly outline who's eligible to message them or even look at their boring profiles. Take this lecture for instance- (abridged and shrunken in size because it was just soooo damn long and rambling...)
PLEASE READ through my WHOLE PROFILE, I took time to write this so I don't waste your time or mine... I know how trying dating can be so I wrote in detail for someone that really feels compatible.. I'm open minded, passionate, and affectionate. I'm a self starter who's not afraid to take chances to better myself financially and emotionally. Don't believe in revolving doors. Only interested in a progressive relationship with someone that is READY for a COMMITTED relation that shows some kind of PASSION or real INTEREST in building something long term. Been meeting to many women as of late that give me the sense that they don't want to take a chance. Instant gratification is a pipedream. Things need to progress into something. If you don't show that you care one way or the other, well, the person your dating is going to loose interest FAST. It's just the way life is... We've all been hurt in the past one way or the other.
Um, that was just the introduction... then he finally concludes by thanking the poor soul who bothered to read through all of his drivel, P.S.ing that he also has two cats he hopes won't cause an allergy outbreak.
This guy figured a little condescension would go well with his photo...
Here we go... :) Is it just me or is being single and meeting a down to earth woman who is independent and has values so hard that is is like having a second job!!! I am wondering if woman in this day and age appreciates a guy that works a 9-5 ,who is independent and doesn't ask or say give me,give me,giveme.......If you have kids I am sure you independent woman don't need a grown man to also claim as a dependant on your taxes :)...If I offended any of you woman that thrive to do that then I apologize.......Life is too short.......I have a good sense of humor ,like to go to concerts or even a nice day in park to take a walk and talk........Into going to the gym to work out and respect those who respect me......Not into drama.....Just an open-minded fella here who knows how to be a good listener but at the same time I not a pretty boy or a softy......I am educated but have a little street in my swagger.Don't worry I do know proper english when having a sophisticated conversation with one or more people lol........Where you independant woman at? Stop hiding and upgrade on your choice of men.......Start with me first though :) Even it it doesn't work out we can still be friends......Open to all races along as keep you yourself mind ,body and soul intact.....I enjoy the company of a open-minded woman who speaks her mind,a little sarcastic,aggressive at times,good sense of humor,likes to stay somewhat physically fit and has a certain aura about her that makes her sexy and stand out..........I can be a romantic too with the candles,cards bubble baths :) and flowers or just say something nice to put a smile on your face.....Oh yeah I don't take the greatest pics and trust me I look better in person...No games I keep it real.I also enjoy music and can dance pretty good lol......Somebody teach me some salsa,merengue or bachata :) if you happen to be a latina woman :) Listen I am not an angel but I am a good man and role model if you have kids.......Good guy just try to keep up with the bad boys....It seems like they taking all the good ,hard working woman..lol
And of course, there're the charmingly poetic emails such as this one...
Hello, I realize this may sound abit forward of me but here goes. I will be turning 51 shortly and I would really like to receive an oldfashioned. over the knee birthday spanking from someone. Please let me know whether or not you might be up to it. Sincerely, (insert name here)
So forth and so on. Long winded profiles, none of it ever mentioning anything about their personalities or interests.
Listen, it's not rocket science. If you expect women to respond to your inquiries, keep it brief and keep it realistic. Once you start getting responses, than you can pick and reject accordingly. No one is going to read through a whole edict. If you're perfect and sans any flaws, congratulations... Most other people aren't. Good luck not getting any feedback. Also, why sign up for a dating site if you aren't willing to provide at least ONE visual? "Message me for a picture" just doesn't cut it. Sorry.Yet you sit there, all bugeyed from behind your naked profile, leering at photos, commenting how "hot" someone's rack looks.
Let's go guys, damn!

July 16, 2009

Order In The Court

I've noticed an annoying trend in courting rituals. One more small annoyance to add to the already difficult process of dating. Texting. I am not one of those self-righteous, anti-technology people who goes on boring rants about the evils of social networking, texting, and mobile phones. As annoying and impersonal as those outlets can be, I am very pro-gadget and technology. While it has it's cons, technology and social networking has made it easier to keep in or get back in touch with long lost friends, enemies, frenemies, and prospective employers. Many things in life have negative aspects to them... you couldn't pay me to travel back to the dark ages. Advancement in technology is not the sole vice or annoyance society has to grapple with. The phenomenon is only as stupid as the moron accessing it... which brings me to my primary point.
Men- (I can't speak for women, because I don't date women and many of the ones I know aren't this inconsiderate, but I'll be fair and say I'm sure they're just as guilty)- if you've just met a woman for the first time, made out with her, groped her, etc... and you've decided "Wow, I like her and I want to talk to her and get to know more about her beyond this point" and you insist... DEMAND that she give you her phone number... and you make a point of programming it into your phone while she's standing there, then CALL her. This texting bullshit as the FIRST official attempt at communicating ... "Hey sexy" and "wat u up to?" is nothing short of rude and disrespectful, and it's not a good first impression. Not to me and many of my friends anyway.
How do you expect to develop any type of rapport with someone you supposedly like... or want to hop in the sack with by TEXTING grammatically lazy phrases??
Behavior like this is vexing and agitating. Myself? I may give your brusque and short messages the side-eye, and after careful consideration, might even respond a few times. I may even give you the benefit of the doubt that you'll actually CALL and I'll hear a live voice either on my voicemail or in real-time at some point throughout the course of the courtship. I'll do you one better; In the past, I've responded to text messages by leaving a voicemail, saying "Hi," asking to "Give me a call when you get the opportunity." Which means, TAG, you're it! Your turn! Only to get yet another text in response, RIGHT AFTER I've left the voicemail! After a VERY short while, your texts WILL go ignored! Trust this.
I will flat out refuse to respond, assuming that you have no desire to actually TALK for 5 or 10 minutes, which is enough time to determine someone's personality and whether you want to ask them out on a date. I'll assume that you aren't interested in setting up a time to meet up and that you have no real interest in me as a person, and that you're only wanting to waste my time by playing electronic footsies with your cyclical, same sounding two word sentences. ... "Hey sexy. Wat u doing? Wat u wearing?" Level headed and tech-savvy folk in the know realize that "wat u wearing?" is code for, "send me a topless photo, and I'll send you a pic of my genitals."All before being asked out on an ACTUAL date for coffee or a glass of wine, because you'd rather wile away valuable time sexting messages like some sexually precocious preteen: "i want u so bad. wish u were here."
Listen, I text more than the next person, but I'm usually texting with people I KNOW. People I have connections with. People I also chat to on the phone. My close and best friends, my sisters, my mother, acquaintances I pal around with, someone I've dated, don't despise and have maintained a friendship with, so forth and so on and I'm not making an ALL DAY AFFAIR of it. If I don't KNOW you and am making every attempt to GET to know you within the context of dating, and you don't reciprocate that gesture, then you may as well kick rocks. And don't you DARE send me a message at 1:00 in the MORNING asking, "hey u up?" OMG!! R U SERIOUS!? How dreadful! Moreover, don't respond to my obvious exasperation with your thoughtless time wasting, texting : "I thought u liked me ???" or "It's just easier to txt cuz am on the run." If you're on the run, then BE ON THE RUN! How about contacting the person of your desire when you AREN'T "on the run" and have a moment to spare.
Look, I'm not one for walking down the street or going about my daily activities, jabbing at my phone's keypad like crazy. I understand that some people love it, but my thumbs get tired, it wears on my nails, more importantly it's distracting and detracts from whatever it is you're doing. As many people as I see running their pie holes on the phone while en-route somewhere, that "on the run, can't actually call" excuse is utter doo-doo. Texting sentences on a small keypad, on the run, seems like it takes more effort than talking to someone for 3 seconds to say, "I'm out and about, just wanted to call to say hi and that I'm thinking about you, we'll talk later though!" and then you hang the eff up. Don't ask for someone's phone number if you have no intention of talking to them. Get their email address instead if you want to type at them.
Cut this foolishness out. It's not a good way to connect with someone you supposedly want to learn more about. KNOW them first before you start texting them a bunch of nonsense. That is all.

April 26, 2009

Brilliant!

Dear Male (or Female- I'm fair) Populace,
Here's a NOBLE idea. It's a brilliant suggestion in fact. Listen close! ...

Don't date a woman, tell her how much you like her, engage in an adagio dance with her, and then blindside her out of the blue with: "I REALLY like you, and would obviously much rather be with you, but I'm old, desperate and lonely and am about to push my seed in the bush of some dysfunctional, narcissistic bitch who once treated me like dog doo-doo and had a gang bang in a hotel room once with 4 (or so) random men and called and told me about it, knowing it'd make me feel inadequate.

It's a horrible idea, she's not my soul mate, my friends think I'm stupid for being equivalent to toilet paper, I hate her guts, BUT I feel like this is my last shot to have a kid. I don't want to be lonely like the old men I see sitting in Borders Books and Music. I have to at least try. She called me a week ago, and said she'd be willing to bear my rotten seed, even though she agreed to once before when we were dating and then abruptly changed her mind, leaving me depressed and suicidal."
Okay, perhaps not in those exact words, but close enough true to life. Anyway, don't ever tell a woman that mmmkay? Casually dating or not, it sucks and is downright weird. Moreover, don't ask the woman on the receiving end of such nonsense, to agree to resume contact with you, to continue being your friend and "hang out" with you while you attempt to or are considering impregnating another. More importantly, don't ask her if you could still see her if things "don't work out" with getting said other hooker knocked up, and don't guilt trip her for mocking and cursing you afterward by whining...
"I know it's a bad idea, but you aren't interested in having children, and I feel like this is my only shot. I should at least trrrry. I doubt it'll even work out but I gotta try."

See, engaging in this type of behavior is a surefire way to get laughed at, verbally berated, cut, pepper sprayed in the eyes, or shot at. It's just not cool. Procreating with someone who treats you like dirt, you don't even love, and who loves you even less makes you seem desperate and pathetic. Fortunately there are still those of us who have the wherewithal to laugh and politely ask the likes of you to go to hell and to disappear out of their lives STAT. Of all the bizarre dating episodes, this rates right up there. It even has foot guy from this post beat.

The dating world is teeming with extraordinarily dumb fart knockers like this middle aged one (yes, douchery is universal and crosses all ages, economic levels, races, and levels of intellect. The shit is widespreading, like the swine flu.) I'm overwhelmingly amused and can't stop laughing. What clownery! Also, what a rotten reason to have a child. What a selfish and inconsiderate way to bring a child into existence, other than from the love of two people, who aren't in need of anti-depressants. You'll always be lonely. You don't need a kid, you need intense therapy. Batshit, loony, drama-filled women of the world UNITE. You'll always have some el stupido, insecure, manic depressive jackass to love you long time, and return like a lost dog finding its way back home. That is all.

February 22, 2009

These and Those: Still Rolling Along

I'm still rolling along and settling into my apartment, slowly but oh so surely. I purchased a few chindi area rugs for my bathroom, front hallway, and kitchen, for five dollars a pop at Family Dollar. That place is becoming addictive. I also hung up some curtains in my spare room and have set up beddy-by shop there until I get a bed in my chosen bedroom. The curtains aren't perfectly hung, but they pass. Anyway, who gives a damn. I think they look fine, when you consider that I'm not used to having to hang shit and drill screws in the wall and what have you. I've gotten better though. Good enough suits me just fine.
Still working on the couch issue. Hopefully I'll have that resolved in another two weeks. I'm in full HGTV mode and nothing can stop me. It's amazing, the ways in which you can upgrade our apartment without breaking your pocketbook. I've even managed to squeeze in a couple of dates in-between the condo decorating. Nothing serious. Nothing to read too much into. It's just cool to be able to have a quick lunch or what have you, and get to know someone interesting. My preoccupation with the committee of me, myself, and I is barreling forth, at warp speed and I've no intention of taking a detour. You have to be a pretty extraordinary man to get me to back up and take another look. Nothing wrong with accepting a lunch or drink to help fill up one's free time.
Speaking of Family Dollar, I was at my local one up the street from me this afternoon. The manager or owner (I presume), an African man, recounted the morning's events. He apparently got pimp-slapped by an irate customer who grew angry, because his coupons weren't valid at Family Dollar. The right-side of his face was swollen as proof and he claimed that he had a headache. "I'm gonna slap you!" the manager said the customer threatened... and, well, he did. The manager said he held the man until the fuzz came to arrest him. Sad day in our culture when customers go around administering beat downs because they can't use invalid store coupons. Obama would NOT approve and this is NOT the month of us to be going around slapping the piss out of one another. People, we've got to do better. Chris Brown hasn't done anything but exacerbate the way in which we relate to one another when we are angry.
In the same breath, The slapped asked me if I was single or had any children, and suggested that we should become "special friends" and go out from time to time. I considered bitch slapping him across the other cheek, but forced a tight smile and said, "Mm-hm, bye, thanks alot. Sorry you got slapped." And pushed my way out the door. "Each time you come back, we'll get to know each other more and more and build a friendship!!" he yelled after me.
A few days prior to that, after taking out the trash and while digging around in my purse for my keys so I could let myself back in, imagine my surprise when I looked up and saw an old Black woman pressed up against her window blatantly and unapologetically glaring down at me, um disapprovingly? She looked pretty unreceptive when I spied her. I waved and she continued to leer. I shrugged and went back inside. FYI- YES granny, I DO live in the building, but thank you for your concern.*insert side eye* I'm guessing she's the resident neighborhood-watch skeezer, or perhaps geezer is more fitting. I'm starting to familiarize myself with my 'hood more and more. Colorful with a dash of seedy. Very Brooklynesque. I LIKE it. Not to mention the wine shop is a straight shot up the street along with a Jamaican bakery, a few bodegas and local markets. The weather has been relatively cooperative, so I've been out and about more. Spring seems like it's on the cusp of being sprung.

February 07, 2009

Splat

About a week or so ago, my queen-sized inflatable bed lost its juice and deflated. Much to my chagrin, I woke up on the floor. I literally had to rooll out of bed... or the remnants of what once was. Scrambling up and out proved irritating. I felt like I was in one of those inflatable bounce houses that kids frolic in at indoor playgrounds. Needless to say, I've been sleeping on a palate on the living room floor. This is the reality of my sleeping situation. Which isn't bad, but I didn't relish seeing a spider scramble from under my comforter when I woke up. Not a good look. Not the type of living creature I want to share my bed with. Fret not me, for pretty soon (hopefully within the next two weeks) I'll have a real king-sized bed to wallow around in, and a couch to boot! At no cost. It pays to have friends who need to part with items they no longer need.
Friday was a fun giggle fest. Despite not being as settled in as I'd like, I hosted a small, intimate gathering. Lots of drinking, trash talking, and conversation ensued... followed by a viewing of Pimps Up, Ho's Down: The Director's Cut. Despite how many may feel about this in-your-face documentary, there are a lot of pearls of wizdumb to live by. Women with low self-esteem beware. Economic times are tough, and while the Pimps Up... documentary was made approximately 10 years ago... they prey on the downtrodden and the disenchanted. Whatever you do, don't eyeball a pimp wrecklessly, lest you want to give up 10-15% of your earnings. 'Nuff said. The DVD skipped a few times, and the fact that I've watched it on the dozens was called to the table. I cannot tell a lie. It's one of my favorite discs to pull out. King James and Scorpio are pimps with hearts of pure gold.
On a completely different and unrelated note, despite what that disgusting and perplexed looking rodent they pull out of the ground dictates, I sense that Spring is on the horizon. I always feel anxious and wait with bated breath for Spring to arrive. I don't know what it is about this particular season, but I look forward to it every year. This winter has proved to be long, depressing, bitterly cold and unrelenting. I am literally begging for a reprieve. I want to put my little snowman away for the year. As far as dating prospects go, there aren't very many here. I've come to that sad conclusion. One may have to outsource for a man who acts like he has some sense and respectability. I'm leery and disappointed anytime anyone approaches me. I'm guessing the corny pick-up line with never die the slow death I'd like it to. The total lack of respect and originality makes me feel like I need to walk around strapped! Needless to say, the season in this cold city has been dry in that respect, but then again, I've been extremely preoccupied and uninterested. I'd be a liar if I said this didn't bother me to some degree.

December 29, 2008

Start the New Year Off Right...

As I stated two posts below, I'm not one to compose an extensive list of New Year's Resolutions, but I do try to start the new year right, as best as I can. I hope you all do the same. Please, don't be a "Jump Off Bitch Trick Freaky Dick Suckin' Cum Drinkin' Dick In the Booty Ass Young Bitch." Seriously.
To each his and her own, but it's just not a particularly sophisticated or classy way to act. You can't really expect to meet a man of worth or value displaying such overt and gratuitous sexuality in this way. It's not pleasurable and it's painful and disrespectful. Trust this. I try to keep it classy at all times. I suppose this is why I'm okay with being 31 and still single. So start 2009 off with some class. Don't be a "Jump Off Bitch Trick"... oh read the rest above and more importantly listen to Alexyss K. Tylor! She's raw and uncut, but her messages are oh so right. In fact, her words are pure poetry (see "jump off bitch trick..."). Take care of and respect your body, cervix uteri, vaginal cavity, uvula, and intestines. If you don't, no one will. Allow and demand that a man acquaint himself with your intellect and your true visage, not your "pussy face."

October 06, 2008

Digital Display

I stayed home from work today. I haven't had one of those days in a while, seemingly. I figured it'd be a great day to wash my hair, do laundry, and gather together my belongings... to decompress. Fortunately, I'm mostly packed and boxed. Many of my things are in storage. I'm hoping things work out, because the act of packing and moving and then apartment hunting all over again, are a pain... as I've discovered in this current economic climate. Things are a lot more tenuous, people are more leery and stressed. I'm fortunate that I stumbled on a situation, that was specific to my needs and what I was looking for! A new couch, a new bed with frame and other incidentals loom in my immediate future. More things to ponder. Perhaps once I'm settled, I can revisit the wacky world of *gasp* dating! It has been a while, and I must say, the peace and quiet of not fretting over some douche has been quite nice. Of course I plan on treading carefully. With all the steaming piles of shit all over the place, I'd hate to step in anything, due to stomping around precariously.
Anyway, I'm not exactly sure why I posted this video, but it seemed like the right thing to do. I've always thought Rosie Perez was extremely talented, and pro-active in her activism. This video just drives that point on home.

September 01, 2008

Dante's Inferno

There's a new book out. Yet another manifesto that feasts and nibbles on the fleshy insecurities and perceived shortcomings of women. Because Tariq "K-Flex" Nasheed's Art of Mackin' and The Mack Within' needed a supplement. Because men are infallible masters who hold all the answers to life's complexities and one of their primary purposes is to guide us wayward women into a magick fairyland where we would gladly submit ourselves to a life of passivity and servitude.
In any event, this latest fuckery is entitled, The Re-Education of the Female and it's written ever so eloquently by computer engineer and first time author, Dante Moore. Moore-- described by Washington Post writer Laura Yao as a well groomed, heavyset, baby-faced, 33-year old with neatly twisted dreadlocks-- professes to love women, and that he wrote this book to help us along .
Moore was also raised in a matriarchal household, and his father was mostly absent. His mother insisted that he treat women like, "queens." But as Dante aged, he came to the realization that his mother was oh so very wrong. See, he discovered that acting like a douchetard toward insecure and needy women, made the phone ring off the hook, much to his delight-
"My mother used to say, walk them home from school, grab their books, give them gifts, blah blah blah, yada yada yada. I went like that for maybe two years, and I probably lost every girlfriend that came along- Once I started being myself and saying, 'look, I'm not going to do this, this, or that for women,' the phone didn't stop ringing, "
The kicker is that Moore was able to train his girlfriend of two years, into dressing sexy on the daily and even prompted her to clean the house looking like a femme-fatale.
"He's wonderful. He's one of the good ones." She coos lovingly (I assume she cooed lovingly). Despite succeeding in brainwashing gaining the adulation of his girlfriend, Dante still claims to not have found "true love" as yet, which would explain why he's not hitched, even though he has an impressionable 11-year-old son to doucheify. Yao neatly summarized the crux of Dante's literary point: Women need to Cook, clean in sexy-hot attire, bow down to a man's every command, put out, and stay skinny if they want to snag and keep a man's interest.
"I like someone of a certain size," Dante rambles on. "My preference would be African American, size 10 or under, conscious about her history and culture."
Miseducation Re-Education of the Female reinforces Dante's preference in this excerpt in which he charmingly compares women to rotten fruit--
"The fatter you get, the more you decrease your potential single-man pool. Let me give you an example. When you go to the grocery store to shop, do you pick out the nastiest-looking, most rotten, smelliest fruit or meat you can find? Oh, you don't? Why not? . . . It's the same with men when they see baby elephant-sized, out-of-shape women."
If Dante Moore's douchery still doesn't illuminate, read this excerpt from Yao's interview with him, in which he fumbles an attempt at being evasive about his dating history--

Though generally reluctant to discuss the specifics of his dating life, Moore does talk unabashedly of a time he broke up with a woman over the fact that he inadvertently almost stole $15 from her.

He took her on a date to Maggie Moo's, and she gave him a $20 bill to order for her. He pocketed the bill and, distracted by the menu board, claims he never saw the value of the bill and just assumed it was $5. When his date later asked why he hadn't given her change, he thought she was accusing him of not treating women well, and dumped her on the spot.

"If I would've just paid for it, had she not given me the money at all, we'd probably still be dating," he says.

This incident, he recalls, happened about two months ago. But weren't he and Tuitt (the trained girlfriend) "exclusive" during this time? Moore quickly revises it to "several months ago," he can't really remember, but probably before he and Tuitt "became exclusive."

Dante's bottom bitch girlfriend later covers for him, saying he probably made a mistake with the time frame, for he's "open with everything he does."--- (queue the collective Bitch PLEASE! and eye-rolls). Laura Yao concludes her expose by mentioning that a 14-year-old girl enthusiastically purchased the book promising to lend it to her mom when she's done reading it, and that a "large stack" still remained during Dante's underwhelmingly attended book signing, that particular day.

Unfortunately, this is what relationship advice has been reduced to. Insecure and bitter men doling out wordz of wizdom to other insecure, bitter men seeking validation and this overwhelming need to rate or condescend to women, not to mention the naive women who will undoubtedly fall for this hype, because they are sick of waiting by the phone (when they should be doing something far more productive).

I've extricated myself (unofficially yet gladly) from the market sans regret, and must admit that while annoyed, I can't be angry over books (or ideas) like this. All one has to do is find the comic relief and entertainment in its message. To read between the lines and wonder why yet another man, would go out of his way to write such a bittersweet symphony about the evils of womankind.
I'll bet Moore almost exploded into a million teeny tiny douche pieces when his book got picked up. All the more reason to gloat and pound his chest. Why not just enter into a legitimate BDSM relationship, complete with a signed contract and willing participant, if he is that intent on dominating and subjugating a woman?? At least it'd be a lot more honest and less bullshitty. I also just LOVE how he considers us FEMALES and not WOMEN. Makes me all shivery. If Dante Moore is indeed, considered "one of the good ones" as his loyal girlfriend claimed, then I'd rather find some Aggressive to do the scissor with. Look, everyone is entitled to having preferences when it comes to what they consider aesthetically appealing. I'd be lying if I said certain physical traits on a man didn't attract me. And admittedly, Dante Moore appears to be an attractive looking man. And while I believe I can pass for being quite attractive despite my flaws, I don't walk around pretending to be perfect looking or that everyone should want me because I think I'm goddess's gift. I'm realistic, and while my expectations are up there, they're within reason... with the bulk of the emphasis being on intellect and whether or not a man is respectable and respectFUL.
I am sick of dudes lumping ALL women in the same categories due to their own personal experiences:
  • Golddiggers,
  • Unappreciative,
  • Hyper-sensitive,
  • Gullible,
  • Not attractive or mindful of her appearance due to having some meat on the bones,
  • Expecting the world to revolve around her
  • Uncooperative.
We're automatically uncooperative and high-maintenance because we want to be treated respectfully? I'll be the first to admit that many women may be conflicted over that concept and will send mixed signals... and blow off a genuinely nice guy, no matter what he does for her, but the majority aren't. Trust. I mean, I could neatly classify ALL MEN under the same categories and write them ALL off for the following reasons:
  • Jackass
  • Douche
  • Disingenuous
  • Unreliable
  • Too Dumb
  • Not packing in the meat department
  • Fug
  • Blathery
  • Uneducated
  • Boring
  • Poor
  • Old
  • Impotent
  • Sloppy
  • Unstylish
  • Misshapen
  • Dogs
  • Liars
  • Cheaters
But I don't, because I realize one's personal experience with a few isn't indicative of the sum total of a whole lot. And more importantly, most of those labels and rating men based on bullshit standards are unfair. It's a shame that a few bad dating experiences from seemingly ungrateful women resulted in Dante becoming crass, bitter, and cynical enough to pen this book. Rather than suggesting that women need to be "re-educated", perhaps he should get some therapy and explore the things that may very well be wrong with him as well. Women who fall for men who treat them poorly have deep rooted issues they need to work out. i.e. the women who seemed to call Dante once he started treating them like yesterday's bowel movement. Or the groupies Dante met during his signings and whispered their phone numbers in his ear. I'm tired of guys of Dante's ilk thinking perfection is their due, when they have a looooog way to come themselves ... physically and especially intellectually. These distorted and unrealistic perspectives regarding what womanhood entails. Par for the course as far as the patriarchy is concerned. I am a LADY who would not give this type of base chauvinism the time of day. Get a fucking uterus, a pair of tits, some culture, and a clue and I just might engage you.

I shall certify Dante with Massengill's stamp of approval for exerting the effort, for having a great smile, and more importantly- for successfully conning his girlfriend.