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Posts Tagged ‘Men are special’
Tired of Being Girlfriend #2
When Pleasure P sang about Boyfriend #2 he described such a person as the man in a committed woman’s life who fulfills the sexual needs that her boyfriend/husband can’t or won’t. I love the song although I don’t believe that most women are sexual cheaters so much as emotional cheaters. If I’m in a relationship with someone, why do I need yet another man to “lay back while I do” him?
Most likely, what I’m missing is someone to spend time with me, to talk about the things that are going on my life, and perhaps even to flirt with me while giving me relationship advice. Technically, these are all things that any partner to whom you’re committed should do. But as we know, these are often the very types of behaviors that are lacking in relationships.
Getting these needs met in a relationship is the main area in which I see most of the men I know fail. For some reason, my male friends, cousins, and associates seem to almost deliberately choose women that they can’t talk to…about anything…at all…ever. I’ve seen some men who are blinded by looks, others who pick girls based on what they’re friends will say, some who are so afraid of rejection they only date girls who chase them (safe bets), and still others who really have no excuse for choosing women who are incompatible with them on a basic level.
Too many men in my life have sought to fill in the gaps of their sorry ass relationships by using me as Girlfriend #2. I have had men who were in committed relationships with OTHER women call me first when they got a promotion or wanted to share some other exciting news, ask me instead of their woman what they should do about a financial or work issue, or even spend hours on the phone or over IM with me listening to music or chatting about sports all the while allowing an undercurrent of flirtation to persist. I believe that I have spent so much time being Girlfriend #2, that it has kept me from my goal of being Girlfriend #1. Being Girlfriend #2 takes a surprising amount of energy!
I’m done with that shit.
Sharing His Innermost Thoughts With Someone Else
If you think this article is about whether or not men and woman can be platonic friends, you’ve totally missed the point. It’s deeper than that. It’s about a fundamental inability or refusal by many men to choose women that can give them the emotional support and conversation they require. Yes people choose all sorts of incompatible people, but this is one particular area in which it is crucial that a man pick the right woman. One thing that I understand about men is that men need to get their conversation and advisory counsel in relationships because they can’t go to their friends and regularly share intense feelings or emotions the way that women do.
Sample conversation between two men regarding a death in one man’s family:
[Man1: What’s up with you man, you all quiet and shit.
Man 2: Nah yo’ my grandma died…crazy man.
Man 1: Oh, that’s messed up! I hate to hear that, how she pass?
Man 2: Cancer. Yeah, she had it for years so we kinda knew…but still.
Man 1: Well let me know if I can do anything man. Keep your head up.
Man 2: Yeah, Thanks man.
*sigh*
I’m not saying that all men communicate in such an empty and uncomfortable manner (yes I am)…but simply put, women more fully. My advice to men is easy to understand.
Couples Should Enjoy Each Other's Company
If you are a fanatic about a certain sport, why not find you a woman who likes that sport so you don’t have to argue about how much money or time you spend watching/going to the games. If you like to go to strip club and chill, why not find a woman who will accompany you or at least get a giggle out of the fact that you like it so much. If you know you like the club scene, don’t make a girlfriend out of the homebody intellectual who thinks clubs are for freaks and heathens. If you know you like to get out and explore outdoors don’t marry the girl spends all her spare time drinking and eating. And if you have ambitions to do and be a certain thing, share that with a woman BEFORE you commit in order to help her understand what a life with you would be like. That way she won’t be complaining about stuff she “shoulda knew” later on in the relationship.
You don’t have to have everything in common, but look at your life and the things you enjoy the most and find most important…pick a woman who can support those things, not just tolerate or -even worse- complaint about them. Everyday communications between two people in a couple should feel natural—some of you are straining.
Listen to me men, because at some point in time, us Girlfriend #2s are going to realized that we are being used and we will end that dynamic and find our OWN MAN to love and support and pretend to listen too, and then where will you be?
In the meantime, if you’re curious about whether you’ve been using me as a Girlfriend #2, please do not ask inquire. Just assume you have, and stop it.
Why I Don’t Dance with Guys at the Club
I love to dance. I always have. And, actually, I’m pretty good. When I was really young, my parents would tape MJ and Janet videos for me. I’d spend hours and hours practicing to those tapes until I’d mastered every move down to the smallest hand motion.
When I got older, my friends and I started a singing group and we performed in talent shows. I’d watch hours of videos from different recording artists in order to choreograph our performance.
I went to my first real dance when I was a freshman in high school. I walked into the party and went straight to the middle of the dance floor where I believed I belonged given my dancing ability. I didn’t pay attention to the way other people were dancing, until an R. Kelly song came on, (I think it was, “It Seems Like You’re Ready), and one of the boys from my high school came up behind me, spun me around and tried to grind on me. I pushed him away and put my hands on his shoulders so that we were still dancing together but not touching. He said to me “That’s not how you dance, come on now.” I looked around and noticed that every couple dancing looked like they were simulating some sort of sexual experience. I turned to him and said, “Well, I don’t wanna dance then.” He muttered something about me being stuck up.
I didn’t care.
I would only grind on my man!!
As I’ve gotten older, the expectation that a man should be able to rub his crotch and hands up against my body just because I’m moving to the beat of a song and every other girl is doing it has gotten stronger. I can’t even the count the number of men who have approached me at a party and attempted to molest me. I use the term “molest” because I was told in elementary sexual education that molestation happens when a stranger touches you inappropriately. And I believe that every time a woman dances with a man in the club she is subjecting herself to a type of consensual molestation that is nontheless gross in my view.
I’ve never really be into the club scene and I believe this is the reason why. When I was in college I had girlfriends who also liked to dance. We’d all go to the middle of the dance floor together. But then they’d start dancing with some guys leaving me dancing happily alone. Well, as soon as I’d be alone someone would try to dance with me, taking all the fun out of an otherwise enjoyable night.
I hate that when I politely decline to dance with a man, they assume that I am rejecting them on an individual level. When, in fact, I am simply rejecting the practice of adult strangers humping on each other in public. If this same man would have stood facing me while we both did the dougie, everything would be fine…but men don’t want to dance with you unless they can put their unfamiliar hands in places only familiar hands should go.
Once I did try to dance with a man thinking, well, if all the other girls are doing it, maybe it’s not so bad. A guy moved in close behind me and put his hands on my hips as we rocked side to side. I wasn’t too disgusted at first, until he put his hand on my back and tried to push me forward as though he was “hittin’ it from the back.”
I realized then, that I don’t need to be doing what every other girl is doing. I mean other girls were wearing matching denim jackets and jeans and lining their lips with black liner and I wasn’t considering doing that. I was born an individual, and have decided to remain that way.
Nowadays when I go the club (a very rare occurrence) I stay off to the side and only dance on songs that really move me. If I had my wish I would be swag surfing and doing the Dallas boogie and the stanky leg all night. But unfortunately, I’m too afraid of being attacked. I wish I could dance with reckless abandon, not worrying about explaining my position on molestation; however, until that becomes reality I do the bulk of my dancing in my house or at Joy of Motion, the men there don’t mind keeping their hands to themselves.
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Written by JDanielle
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Your Foot Fetish, My Confusion
What is it with dudes and feet? I’m serious right now. What is it?
Every couple weeks as a sashay bout in my stilettos some guy compliments me on my shoes. If we end up going out, at some point he says something to the likes of, let me see your feet.
Huh?
In fact, a couple of times I have had guys compliment me on my sexy shoes and then make mention that I probably have nice feet.
Once again, what???
Does that even sound right? How do men think women’s feet get messed up in the first place?
Let me say in no uncertain terms, my feet are not cute. Since 2002, I have been wearing stilettos or some sort of high-heel on a daily basis. My feet have been rubbed to the death top front bottom and side to side. I don’t have Boomerang Lela Rochon feet, but still my tootsies are nothing to brag about or take pictures of…unless you are a photographer for Wheredeydodatat.net.
I keep my pedicures up, keep my toes painted, and feet moisturized. Still, MY FEET ARE NOT CUTE. My pedicurist (is that a word?) at Nusta spa in downtown dc gives me pedicures that temporarily make it look like I got a foot transplant. But until such a day that a foot transplant is invented, MY FEET WILL REMAIN UNCUTE. Plus, why would I bother getting a foot transplant only to, once again, insert my new more admirable feet into stiletto L.A.M.Bs?
( L.A.M.B.'s black Rasta boot photo courtesy of intheircloset.com)
Men, please use the comment box to explain your obsession with feet. Last time I checked not that many of you were into toe sucking and not that many of you are giving regular romantic footrubs…so what does it matter what our feet look like as long as we keep them moisturized so they don’t make minced meat out of your leg in the bed?
I used to have really pretty feet, before stilettos. I noticed my feet gradually becoming uncuter and uncuter as time went on but I didn’t care. My shoes are glorious and they make me feel sexy. And it’s not like my toes are jumbled up or deformed or bunioned (is that a word?) So…I just rolled, and still roll, with my stiletto lifestyle.
Honestly, I would compare having pretty feet to long hair–nice in theory but simply not practical for me. When I was growing up people raved about my hair. When I was in elementary school my mom let my hair grow half way down my back. She used to braid it really tight. She finally let me wear my hair out for picture day. My hair was so long and thick it got stuck in the cracks in my desk in class, then later, it got tangled in my book bag when I tried to take it off on the bus.
When Monica, the singer came out, I wanted to be like her so I cut my hair really short. People who barely knew me were upset as though I’d snuck into their houses in the middle of the night and chopped off their springy ash blonde curls rather than my own.
After a few years I got nostalgic and decided to let my hair grow midway my back again. Everything was fine and good until I arrived at the hair salon and found out there would be a $15 extra charge even though she didn’t quite know what to do with it. Not to mention my hair is so curly even a relaxer won’t keep it straight. Now, I only wear my real hair when I feel like letting my inner Kelis circa 1999 out, and even still I rarely let it grow past my shoulders.
The lovely Alicia Keys - who probably rarely has to style her own hair
See I have learned that having long hair isn’t not going to get me anywhere in life, and neither is having pretty feet. I figured stilettos would get me further in life than pretty feet, jury’s still out on that; however I am POSITIVE that no one is going to give me a job, a man, a house, 3 boys and a girl, or my ultimate fantasy, a Range Rover, because I have flawless feet… unless I apply at one of those foot fetish web sites. Men, if I’m wrong, please let me know how soon I could have expected my Range to arrive after us meeting if I would have showed you something pretty when I took off my Bronx leather thigh-high stilettos instead of the homely footies I display when I eventually go barefoot in front of you.
While I have you here, men should know that if a woman says she wears high-heels, in particular, stilettos DAILY and you look at her feet and they are beautiful she is lying. She may wear stilettos going out, she may wear heels around the office but she damn sure doesn’t wear them on the train or from her car to the job or to the grocery store or to the mall. You can’t have it both ways. And no 3” platforms are not stilettos, if you think they are, I got a shoe closet that will bring tears to your eyes. Fellas (and lesbians), if you like your woman in heels rather than sneakers, please understand that a flawed foot is your friend.
How My Dog Is Just Like a Man
(Kai…my german shepherd)
1. He misbehaves even though he knows I will put him out–he literally runs out of the room when I say “Out.”
2. After I put him out, he sneaks back in when I’m not looking. Sometimes he actually puts his head down and looks away as though that makes him invisible.
3. When he’s bad, he immediately apologizes by trying to be affectionate. This can include trying to lay his head on my chest.
4. If he makes me really mad he’ll go away for a while and then come back later and act like nothing ever happened.
5. He brings me things I don’t want (dead fish heads or trash), and if I don’t pretend to like them, his feelings get hurt.
6. He unknowingly takes more than he gives.
7. He walks around looking for shit to get into and won’t rest until he finds something.
8. When he meets girls, he immediately tries to hump them.
9. Once he realizes he can’t destroy something, he doesn’t want to play with it anymore.
10. He’s aggressive towards most men, friendly to some, but LOVES every woman he meets.
11. He immediately falls in love with anyone who brings him food or treats.
12. When he doesn’t want to do something he pretends to be sleeping or too busy eating.
13. When I leave the house he pretends to be upset when really he can’t wait for me to leave so he can sleep or do his own thing.
14. After being reprimanded repeatedly for making the mistake he is still confused about why I’m upset.
15. When he doesn’t like something I’m doing he moans and groans about instead of just getting up and leaving the room.
16. He relaxes by playing with balls—this can include tennis balls and footballs as well as his “natural’ ones.
17. He knows he’s too cute to stay mad at.
18. He always feels affectionate in the morning jumping on the bed with me and wanting to be petted and hugged; he’s also really aggressive with it trying repeatedly after being shot down. If I’m not in the mood, he cops an attitude and leaves the room.
And the final reason my dog is just like a man…
19. For some reason, I refuse to give up on him.