Dear African Brother,
You are beautiful. You are a Believer. You are protective. You are intelligent. You are family oriented, respectful and ambitious. You are witty. You dance well. You love to share random things with me. You are the master toasters and you have the power to make me happy – sometimes. But you can also act like the common sense your Creator gave you abruptly decided to take leave of your person.
No, seriously, for real, FOR REAL son – uhm, if your name is not Asamoah Gyan, aka Baby Jet, and “sexy like cheese” does not roll from your lips with the ease that banku rolls into your mouth, then you need to re-consider some of those words that you decide to say to your lady friends.
Shall we consider the following? Yes, let’s do!
“Do you give good massages. I bet you do“ is NOT a turn-on. Yup, I KNOW this may come as an abso-freaking-lutely crazy shock to you, but texting (you heard me right) me about my masseuse abilities DOES NOT lead to me wanting to give you a trial run. Oh, and sending me that text during booty-call hours, is sooo not cool. What do you mean, “do I give good massages?!!” I’m not stupid, I KNOW where you’re going with this and no, I AM NOT touching your nasty flesh! Fleeeeeeesh – ain’t TOUCHIN’ it! What kind of foolish question is that to ask? If you need a massage go to your local mall and sit in one of those massage chairs prominently displayed in various kiosks and stores. Better yet, go pay that money and get the foolishness beaten out of you! Maybe your common sense will creep back in?
“Hey am starving, did you cook some banku?“. Heh, charley, do I KNOW you like that? Oh, yeah, that’s right – I DON’T. What about a “hello, how are you? How are things?” before you launch your questioning of what I did or didn’t cook for you? Okay, okay, so you’re thinking – what’s wrong with this question? Hmm, we could discuss the inherent stereotype that I even cook (which, I do and quite well, thank you very much) or that I would give him my food. Or what about the assumption that we are cool enough for you to ask me if I have spent capital on you. *beep beep beep* I think we have a wiiiinner! I don’t know you like that. And the fact that you made the next comment (during one of our very first conversations) doesn’t endear you to me.
“You know I have to exercise right so I can EXERCISE RIGHT. You know what I mean. You know. You have to be in shape. You know what I mean. He he he. For the ladies. He He He”. He he he wettin? Dude, we just met. Like seriously, this is what, my first or second conversation with you? Why are you bringing up your physical needs? Yeah, and please, he wasn’t talking about Tae-bo exercise, either, if you catch my drift! And when there is silence coming from my end, as I try to understand why you would bring this topic up so soon in our acquaintanceship and why you think I would want to know ANYTHING about your sexual needs is BEYOND ME. Yup, FREAKING BEYOND ME. I don’t care what you want or need. It makes no never-me-mind if you need to get in shape before you feel your manly prowess is enough. I DON’T CARE! Have I, at ANY point in this conversation or the one prior to it mentioned anything about romance or sex? *tick tock, tick tock, tick tock* OH YEAH, no. I haven’t. So if I haven’t brought it up…what makes you think I want to hear anything about it?
So what do you do when you have to put the sauce on the chalupa?“ *puzzled grimace* WHAAAAAT!!? Sauce on the CHALUPA? WHAT THE WHAT? Okay, this is our second conversation since I met you at the GH independence party a few weeks ago. If this is your slang I’ma need you to explain it. Hello! You want to actually speak phrases that I can understand? Oh, wait, wait, wait? I’m supposed to be able to read your mind, right? Oh, okay, sorry about that – obviously I was too confused to realize I was telepathic! And then when I push you more to explain yourself, you hem and haw, finally spitting out enough words to make me realize that you are asking me about my sex life. WHO ARE YOU! Have you LOST your mind? Forget common sense now, but just the brains that were once inside your skull – yeah, those, have they been sucked out of your ears? Did some Ancient Egyptian scribe forget you were actually alive and after anesthesizing you, scrambled your brains and then pulled them out of your nose? Anaa s3, you are so ignorant that you think such a question is valid and necessary to ask a women you barely know? Or is it that no one has ever told you of your own inherent madness so you don’t realize that your words are offensive?
Fellas, seriously? So that filter between your brain and your mouth? Yeah, mmhmm, THAT one, soooo I’ma need you to TURN IT ON! Haba! KAI!
It’s the holiday season. Everywhere people are supposed to be good-cheering it one with another – singing carols and planning parties, driving hundreds of miles and trimming Christmas trees, gulping down eggnog and stealing mistletoe kisses. Well, I’m not sure about the last part. Honestly, nobody has even tried to steal a kiss from me under mistletoe.
And ladies, if you’re single like me, all the heart-warming images of happy couples/families glowing with Christmas love and cheer may lead to wistfulness or maybe even the dumps! So perhaps you gather around ye olde Christmas bar stool at your local jazz lounge and gist with your single girlfriends (because coupled/married girlfriends stay nestling at this time of year) while enjoying an amaretto sour, mojioto or Cabernet Sauvignon (or maybe all the above).
The conversation WILL turn to men. I know this. You know this. It’s a given. There will be talk of horrible dates, horrible exes and horrible prospects. There will also be much talk about the joys of single-hood, the camaraderie of woman-hood and the beauty of one’s own company. At some point though, a hush will descend and each of you is going to think that maybe, just maybe it would be nice to have someone in your life who will text you at some point during this marvelous celebration of XX-ness, if only to make sure that you’re having fun and confirm that he’s still going to pick you up afterward.
And then one of you will say “If only I had a GOOD man.” This will be followed by various nods, grunts, sighs and tipsy cries of “yesh, girl!”
And here, here is where I will have to stop you. Because YOU DO NOT WANT A GOOD MAN!
Yup, I said it – you DON’T WANT A GOOD MAN! So please stop saying that. There is no part of you that wants a GOOD MAN. You have never, do not, nor will you ever want a good man. Stop telling your exes, your possibles, your never-will-be’s that you want a GOOD MAN. Good men DO NOT EXIST. This is a myth.
Gentlemen, stop telling me that you are a GOOD MAN and that ladies don’t know what good men are because they reject you. Stop telling me, other women and other men that us ladies don’t know what we want and wouldn’t know a GOOD MAN if it smacked us in the face or came wrapped in shiny paper with a big red bow on top. If she rejected you while bemoaning the lack of GOOD MEN, she was confused. And so are you.
It is not about goodness. It is about the RIGHTNESS of a man. Yup, the RIGHT man for HER. I can see your perplexed faces – “What is this chic saying?”
You see, every woman and every man has a concept or a gestalt of what they would like to have in a relationship and a partner. Every person has some idea, some thought process, some absolutes and some maybes that makes their concept of a “lover” THEIRS and theirs alone. Granted, there are many traits that we all look for though our definitions vary slightly. Even the combination is different. Each of us has an idea about what is right for US.
So when a woman says she wants a GOOD MAN, you, my man, may feel perturbed; especially if she’s just dumped you. It is not that you are not a good man – well, maybe you aren’t, I don’t know – but that she is looking for the RIGHT man — someone who has all the traits in the right combination for HER. Buddy, you just don’t fit the ticket. Guess what? THAT’S OKAY. It is not a rejection of your “goodness”. It is a LACK OF FIT.
The two of you just don’t fit. Like oil and water – you are not compatible. Gentlemen, you don’t complain if a shirt is too small. You just buy a larger size. Ladies you don’t scream if a coat is too big. You just buy a smaller size. None of you goes to the designer and demand that s/he make a coat to your specifications (unless you roll like that). Instead, you calmly accept the situation, put the item back and you continue searching for your FIT.
SO, everyone – woooosaaaah.
Ladies – go ahead and bemoan the fact that you haven’t found the RIGHT MAN. Gentlemen don’t get upset and think she’s lost her mind – recognize that like that shirt, you two are just not the right fit. Please, mourn the passing of the relationship. Then set it aside while you are healing and learn what you must from it so that your next relationship has a greater chance of being the right fit.
But remember – it’s NOT about goodness. It’s about rightness of fit!