That Special Someone

I was talking to a female friend of mine the other day.

I like women. I mean, I like the way they smell, the way they walk, and the softness in their voice. Honestly, I like the way they act around me. I love making them laugh.

Sometimes, I find the way they think is a bit taxing, but I am sure they feel the same way about me. Take the good with the bad. I love the way they lean against me. I love the way they watch me laugh at myself. I love how the sight of them makes me understand “Sunday Mornings” is a journey, not a destination. Honestly? I know that in practice, I am the walking personification of “harassment is defined in how welcome the interaction is.” I’m usually pretty welcome. I mean, yeah, I like me some women.

This attraction has caused some friction in my relationships, which is funny. Anyone who knows me understands I am a model of monogamy. I don’t do to others what I’d hate having done to me. I am everyone sista’s big brother, little brother, guy, buddy, ride or die Negro…you name it, I’m it. I am never anyone’s, ah, you know, “friend” in that manner. I keep those lines pretty clear, and I think it is appreciated. By everyone but the women who happen to be my “person”.

I guess part of what makes me a good male friend, however, is that I respect boundaries. That makes it easy for me to share, and learn from my female friends. They clue me in on stuff, I don’t try to do them when we’re both drunk on her couch, half naked after playing ‘Twister’ The years are long gone when my friendships with women melded into something else. OK. Wait. There was a blip two years back, but that was different. She was real special. Hell. Why lie? They all were.

I digress.

So, I was talking to my friend. We’ll call her “Blip”. Blip has classic good looks, a decent sense of humor, a career taking off and a smile that could stop global warming. Blip is, like many of my friends, an attractive woman. That said, I would not date her to save either of our lives. It’s not that I know her dirt (which I do), but she is certifiably crazy. She is a practicing head shrinker. And crazy.

“Mac, I just don’t get it. He was nice, we clicked on everything…mentally…emotionally…sexually…and he just shut down on me. What did I do?”

Being her friend, I know that Blip is looking for love for a few different reasons. She is approaching thirty and wants the husband, family etc. This is important to her because this female milestone will keep her on track with similarly educated sistas her age. While statistics show more than half of them will be divorced within a decade, that is irrelevant. It is time to claim a spouse and wreck a perfectly good figure, and she needs a man for that. Even the sex is irrelevant, as everyone knows it is probably fifty times better AFTER you lose your spouse and meet that person who will pass in and out of your life, leaving behind memories, some of which cause you to simultaneously grin and blush.

“What am I doing wrong, Mac?” Blip looked at me sadly.

Funny you should ask. To answer your question in a nutshell? The real you showed up.

Late last year, I wrote an essay on how you break up with someone. Shortly thereafter, my own situation imploded. Still trying to figure that one out. That is what we writers call “irony”.

Let me offer, in one sitting, advice to folk looking for someone. My own lack of success in this field notwithstanding, I have been informed by many that I really understand relationships. Like Caruso’s voice teacher, I can’t sing a jingoed note, but I can produce the greatest operatic singer ever. Read on.

Sistas, you are beautiful. That isn’t just my opinion. The world over, the symbol of beauty is a Black woman. Stop doubting. I have heard women of other cultures sing praises of the Black female body and how ageless Black women become after 40. I have almost had to fight guys of other cultures who make it clear their wildest sexual fantasies involve not Jenna Jameson but Jada Fire. Real talk.

Something about your approach, however, isn’t working. You can get him. You can interest him. But you can’t keep him. Now, I know toupee wearing clowns and angry Black women have written scads of books on how it’s his entire fault, but we know that can’t be true. There are no absolutes, and we all know that when you sit down with friends (like me) you wallow in self pity over some of what you’ve done to bring about your relationship’s demise. If he hit you, it’s his fault. If he fooled around on you, it’s his fault. If ya’ll had an argument that really went there cause of both of you to act like fools, that’s 50/50.

If you got crazy on him, however? That’s you. If you wanted to change the rules of the game and he wasn’t having it? That’s you. If you decide to run some game and get caught-and remember, I have tons of female friends and ya’ll are much better at it than we are-that’s you.

So how do we get past this and find you that special someone to build with, that will stick around?

Keep reading. This is gonna be better than Kanye’s workout plan.

First, when you meet a guy, I mean right after he says, “Hi, my name is Brack” or some such? I need you to go on full evil female mode. You know what I mean. That person that you beat into submissiveness when you are in “Why me?” single gear, but who starts to peek out little by little as your relationship progresses?

Dude needs to meet her FIRST. She must be “on” all of the time. He needs to know she exists and will usually be present, regardless of the smiles, the giggles, the walks in the park. If you have an alter ego that clowns when she gets hungry? Bruh man needs to meet Drusilla on your first date. Skip lunch. Don’t eat all day so he is fully presented what’s in store down the line. He needs to see what your face looks like when it gets all twisted up because you feel someone has slighted you. He needs to recognize from day one you may feel slighted for no reason and if he is there, you will take it out on him.

Second. Many of the women that I know tend to share things with their new guy to give him a bit of fair warning about the inner demon we just mentioned. Stop. “I can be kinda moody sometimes”, said on date two as he is looking into your eyes and thinking of spending his life with you comes out as “I’m so human but aren’t we all?”

Men are simple creatures. We don’t do hints. Cross this line? Touchdown. Get hit and stay on the mat past ten seconds? Knockout. Pursue the issue after she’s said “no”? Jail.

You need to, while demonstrating every lack of table manners he will come to notice after you’ve hooked him, belch real loudly, pull him close, and hiss, “I am a psycho hose beast” or something along those lines. Before you sit him down, pass gas. Let him see what he is getting into now. Because if he gets this in pieces over the honeymoon period, he will think whatever you do is cute, and will set him up for a flight or flee situation later, which does you no good.

Third. I know a LOT of my girls’ secrets. Most men have female friends because many women don’t trust other women. As a man, I know that whatever you are sharing with me is probably three times as bad in reality, but you are trying to be honest while still presenting yourself as something you are not. We are not stupid. When we fall, we fall hard, so we can hear anything. Just give it to us up front.

“Bobby and I…we had an intense sexual relationship. It was a phase.”

Uh uh. Confirm what we already know.

“Of COURSE I was sleeping with someone else while you and I were being acquainted. I mean, not now, but then? We weren’t TOGETHER, I didn’t know if you’d work out, and I got needs. Me, Bobby, Ricky and their cousin Shay Shay? One night, ten days ago, after a bottle of Stoli and some really good hydro? Yeah. Baby oil everywhere. Well, not all of that was baby oil. Honestly? It’s on the Internet somewhere. Google ‘Orgy where Dude in Question Gets Turned Out’. Ricky was always a bit suspect. Don’t think that’s gonna be us, though. I understand why the pros get bonuses for DP, and you ain’t paying. Felt good at the time, though. Say, did you want dessert?”

Male friends often understand the reason why female friends aren’t straight up with their new guy about past encounters has nothing to do with shame. It has to do with the fact that men are opportunists. “You did it with HIM, why can’t you try that same thing with ME? So what you almost died the first time around. I know CPR…”

Women try things, have the experience, and move on. Guys try them, like them, and expect them to become the norm. Ya’ll ain’t trying to hear that six months into the relationship, so let him know up front. “Man, sorry, I tried the whole Astroglide banana in the tailpipe while having a plastic bag over my head thing while watching pregnant monkeys on Discovery Channel with someone else. Been there, done that. Sorry, you missed that experience, and I don’t want to relive it. Although it was a blast. How about I sit on your face after tacos? That’ll be a first…” Say this while having a bowel movement, at his house, bathroom door open, smoking a Newport. Even if you do not smoke. Especially if you do not smoke.

Fourth. Be upfront. I mean, you’ve been upfront up to now, but really make your intentions clear. My friend Blip used to run down her list of what was important to her. “Tall, handsome, kind, nice to his momma, considerate, God fearing…” I recently explained to Blip that she needed to stop lying to herself. The last three dudes she thought she loved didn’t even go to church, and one was an out and out bastard. You have to use the “Something About Mary” formula: brief but real. “Deaf mute with three pound…” You get it. Stop adding window dressing that really plays no part in your selection process. Be real with yourself, and him. “Rich”, “Fine” and “Freaky” are not bad things to want. Be straight with yourself. “Funny”, “Doesn’t Snore” and “Tolerates my bull daily” are OK, even mature, things to want in a man. Just remember, you’re human too, and if you set your sights too high, you may be disappointed. This isn’t settling. This is being comfortable and getting a fair exchange for what you bring to the table.

Ask real questions. “I think it’s great you love yo’ momma but is that heffa gonna get more time than me?” “Do you really think just because we both enjoy it we’re gonna have sex ALL the time?” “You do understand I expect you to put your family on hold but my family will always be a priority?” “You been to jail? You engage in homosexual acts? Did you like it? Do you still do it?” Men respect reality.

Part of being up front is also letting the schmuck know what’s what. Tell him, “Man, you’re cute, and you ain’t bad in the sack, and you make me feel good about myself, but let’s face it. I really like you because you work with your hands, and my kid needs a new sandbox” or “Dating you is a plus. Honestly, I looked you up in Martindale Hubbell and knew way before hand you were the best family lawyer in the state. My ex husband is on some bullcorn and eventually, I’m gonna want you to ream him in court for me…” “Man, whenever I need someone who is going to just do what they are told and take my beating them daily, I can count on you.” “My feet hurt, and although they smell like week old Doritos, I can count on you to rub them and them use your tongue to work out the toe jam.” We can take it. Just give it to us up front.

Follow this advice and you can’t fail. If he bounces, you’ve saved yourself some real head and heartache, and conversations with me in our jammies on Friday night, eating pizza together. If he stays, he is either in love with you or a damn fool. And you know what?

Either one of those beats being with the wrong guy, no?

I know that of which I speak. I have loved at least four crazy women, and I am on record as having married and procreated with one. And none of their craziness would stop me from loving them again. I just need it all up front, in the open, the full Monte. Because deception by small doses is annoying as hell.

You wanna get and keep the right man?

Do you. From Day One. He probably loves you for, or in spite, of it anyway. And honesty is what love is all about.