Posts Tagged ‘groupies’

Yeah, you heard me. I know, the preceding statement goes against the conventional wisdom that it’s black men who are awash in the affections of throngs of women and have but to show up in a reasonably stain free shirt to get mobbed by intelligent, beautiful, refined women.

But it’s true. Conventional dating theory assumes the world looks something like this:

I love girls, girls, girls all over the globe...

When in fact, it more than likely looks like this:

I love boys, boys, boys...Hey! Sergio! Stop looking at Lance's crotch! Focus!

Hear me out. Men and women work in remarkably different ways when it comes to the date selection process. As the hunter or aggressor, men typically will chase after what they want and end up eating what they can get. Women on the other hand, get the final say in choosing which male she allows to get close to her. If a hundred women offered to sleep with a man, he’d have sex with 101 of them, the 101st being the doorknob he mistook for a vagina in a weed-induced haze. On the other hand, an average of 100 men a day typically offer to sleep with any given women. Sound high?

Now, granted, this is less than a scientific observation, but let’s assume a woman is of average attractiveness and works in the Central Business District of any major city. She takes the train to work. On her walk to the train, she is leered at hard by 7 men, given a respectful but interested eye by 6 and hollered at by two locals on stolen ten speed bikes posted up by the Metro, one of whom is likely shirtless and smells of weed.

That’s 15

She’s lightly sexually harassed by by 2 of her superiors and merely spoken to inappropriately by 3 others in the morning, including the mail clerk who knows he doesn’t have a shot in hell. On her way to Au Bon Pain for lunch, she’s checked out by another 10 men, 1 offers to buy her sandwich, and the fella asking for directions to Neiman Marcus isn’t reeeaaally asking for directions.

We’re at 32.

She leaves work, goes to Happy hour, where she’s glanced at by 7 men, sent drinks by 3, and is flirted with by another 5.

47

It’s Friday, so she goes out to a large nightclub. A whopping 50 men eyebone, strike up a conversation, grab her arm, buy her a drink, or otherwise, as Chris Rock would put it, offer her some dick. On her way home, she receives sexually charged text messages from another 3 men, 1 of whom she invites over for sex.

That’s 100 men, folks.

You came her to holler at shorty? Me too, bruh. Me too. My dad too. He's getting a hot dog right now.

Sound like a lot? It’s just the tip of the iceberg!!! I heard a great story once about a man asking his grandfather if he ever cheated on his grandmother. His grandfather replies “No.” The grandson says. “Wow. I really respect that. I struggle with the temptation every day. It’s a constant battle. How’d you make it so long without giving in? Why didn’t you cheat?”

The grandfather looks at his grandson and says:

“I didn’t have a car.”

The moral of the story? When you have limited choices, you make do with what ya got. Today’s issue is that with the advent of technology, what you got is not merely the people in your city, or friends of friends, or whose eye you’re able to catch at the Friday night sock hop. Your options are only limited to the number of men that friend you, follow you, or are Matched with you. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if some woman and some man had sex based off a Words With Friends Game.  (if you want to play me, feel free, I’m pretty good, but not great. I always hold the J and the Z too long looking for that triple word score/triple letter score combo.)

Take that 100 number, add 500 DM's

So you’re saying, well, the same thing can be said about men and the expansion of their choices. True. But again, men’s choices are limited to who chooses them back. And while women’s choices may be technically limited to the men she would choose, that decision making process is up to her. she can choose every man who approaches, none, or some number in between.

There’s a second issue, which is the democratization of “fame-by beauty.” Up until very recently, in order to be a female sex symbol, model, socialite, etc, and benefit from the social and financial advantages therein, you had to be one of a very small number of people chosen by Vogue or Estee Lauder or whoever. Now, anyone with a cell phone and some lingerie can catapult themselves to instant notoriety if the right person shares or RT’s the pic. And then what happens?

Here comes Chad Ochocinco a-callin’. And Darnell Dockett. And Bow Wow. And five hundred other random dudes offering a chance at sex with them. And thennnn what happens? Well, worst case, something like this:

A couple weeks ago there was a flareup on black twitter because one of these internet models was arrested for child endangerment because she was apparently leaving her kid at home to fend for himself while she flew around the country getting knocked down by celeb types. Meanwhile, she’s twitpicing (is that a word) photos of herself in Bentleys and bottle service and other things of the type the modern negro seems to be enamored of. Mind you, before social networking, this chick would have had zero access to any celebrity outside of those who live there or are playing an away game. But because of the democratization of fame by beauty, I know who she is, and more importantly, Chad Ochocinco and Chris Brown knows who she is. And where to find her. Pre-1997, her best shot would be well-known local stripper. Post twitter? The sky’s the limit.

Now, granted, this is an extreme example. But I’d venture on a much smaller scale, a lot of women are faced with the same option of a “better” class of man available to them via technology and the interconnectedness of the world than may be available to them locally. I doubt most women are going to up and leave their kid with a TV dinner to go and pursue that “better” class of man, but they very well may decide that the middle class local dude doesn’t really measure up to the possibilities of the guy across the country who owns his own accounting firm. Or the dude who scores 17/night for the Nuggets. Or the old college classmate who done lost some weight and got a hairline that doesn’t look like Lebron and John Legend had a love child.

Ironically, given the way that women choose men, this new optimization of opportunity actually increases the dating wealth disparity (you know, 80% of women choose 20% of men). Because while women will actively gravitate towards choosing these select 20% of men, (many of whom can afford to fly them out wherever without a second thought), men will passively accept these choices. Like I said, we tend to take what we can get. And for some of us what we can get is quite a lot. For others of us, not so much)

What say you, blogoshpere? Am I totally off base here? Have you as a man or women increased your options because of technology? Decreased? Found love? Found emptiness? What ya got?

So I already pretty much introduced the idea behind the topic in my last post. We’re discussing so-called “socialites,” and specifically black female middle to upper class women who use that term to define themselves. I think they should stop.

Wikipedia Definition: A socialite is a person who is known to be a part of fashionable high society because of his or her regular participation in social activities and fondness for spending a significant amount of time entertaining and being entertained. Some socialites may choose to use their social skills and connections to promote and raise funds for various charitable or philanthropic activities. Socialites are usually in possession of considerable wealth, whether gained by inheritance or otherwise, that can sustain their steady attendance at social functions. Their social movements have been published in the UK’s Tatler magazine and they might be listed in features such as the Social Register of the United States.

Nothing wrong with that, right? Charity? Entertainment? Woo-hoo! Here’s the thing. Almost every time I’ve heard someone use the phrase, it comes off as social-climbing self-aggrandizement. Definition-wise, are most of these people possessed of considerable wealth? NO. Their parents might have a little dough, but the vast majority of women I know below the age of 27 really don’t have shit. There are certainly exceptions, but for the most part, unless you’ve really gone left with your career choice and hit a lick, you’re living slightly better than check to check after paying off your school loans, rent/mortgage, car, utilities, and Louis V shopping sprees. Throw in a robust social life of meals at the best restaurants, VIP access, and bottle service, and  you may very well be running a deficit.

And number 2: Charity. Since most of these people don’t have any money anyway, it’s usually pretty silly to be going on about how that $50 you spent to go to a party is realy going to help some Zamundan child find clean water.

So, you’re not rich, you’re not that much of a philanthropist, what’s the deal?

The deal is you need social affirmation to feel good about yourselves. Which is the saddest thing in the world.Frankly, I blame Twitter. Here’s why. Myspace allowed everyone to create their own online persona which was much grander than real life. And it allowed people to share in each other’s bullshit fantasies and build them up to immense proportions. Facebook kinda dialed it back to reality again. But Twitter provides the best kind of false intimacy. You get real time status updates as to what celebrities are doing. Make no mistake: Twitter is the biggest thing to happen to groupiedom since, well, groupies. Take a look at some of your friends’ tweets, Notice they’re always replying back to @iamdiddy or @questlove or @whoeverthefuck? And the celebrities feed into it. If they’re at Santos on Friday, youll get a tweet from @Qtiptheabstract. Then notice how you’ll get like three tweets from socialites:

At Santos: chillin’ with @iamdiddy and @qtiptheabstract

So by association, you’ve now supposedly upgraded your own social status. Which to me, just doesn’t seem that important.

But off my twitter tangent. I love twitter. It’s great. And I’m proud to say I unfollowed Diddy long before the whole unfollow Diddy movement became popular. That fool was just annoying.

What kills me is the women who do all this, and then complain about not being able to find a good dude. Ladies,  you’re single because you’re not looking for a good dude. You’re looking for a good time. And while the two of those don’t have to be mutually exclusive, the truth is most of the dudes who are also looking for a good time are not looking to have you ruin their good time by locking them down. And most good dudes don’t have the time or the energy to put up with women that know everyone and want everyone to know them. That’s built in Broadway-grade drama. By investing yourself in a strictly social scene, you’re also investing yourself in meaningless beefs over perceived slights with other women, a bunch of dudes who you’ve either kicked it with or want to kick it with following you around, and a back and forth bartering of social favors (you getting them on a list, them introducing you to so and so, etc.)

STOP IT!

It’s childish. The time for you all to be social climbing is over. You are who you are. Let your accomplishments speak for themselves, not what circles you run in. Thank you, this has been a PSA from B.St. R

“I got this model chick that don’t cook or clean
But she dress her ass off and her walk is mean
Only thing wrong with ma she’s always on the scene
God damn she’s fine but she parties all the time”

-Hov, “Girls, Girls, Girls”