Posts Tagged ‘opening lines’

Glad I didnt take no for an answer

Glad I didn't take no for an answer

So I’ve decided a new series is in order. And it centers around what it hink is the most fundamental issue affecting not just black relationships, but relationships period: Communication. Let’s face it, men and women communicate in different ways. Now, I haven’t read the 5 Love Languages, but I think I will. Because I, like pretty much everyone else in the world, sometimes gets confused by what the opposite sex is trying to tell me. They’re trying to tell me something, I’m trying to listen, and yet the intended message gets lost in the mix. And sometimes I try to say something, she tries to listen, but still, we come to no conclusion. So let’s talk about it.

One of the things I hear over and over again from upper and middle class black women is that their male peers aren’t approaching them. They’re not “putting in any work.” Says the homette, Pass Me a Shovel,

So what’s up with these college-educated dudes, anyway? The ones who got them a lil piece of paper, and want to act like their shit is the freshest thing since Wild Honeysuckle and Butterfly Flower hit the shelves at Bath N Body Works. You’ve seen them around. You can usually find them standing along the wall, or in VIP at the clubs with their supastunna shades on, their button-downs, or the relic-style fitted tees with jeans and shiny sharp shoes, trying their damnest to emulate the “coolest muthafucka on the planet!”

Dancing? Oh no, they don’t dance. Didn’t you get the memo? They’re too good for that. And buy you a drink? Are you KIDDING them? It’s the 00’s (that sounds lame – we gotta come up with another description for our generation, btw) – YOU buy THEM a drink. “A Long Island, please”… Do you want a little umbrella straw and a lemon to go with that, you siddity BASTARD!

But about 65% of the time I’ve gone out in the Midwest, I’ve faced the same problem: dudes with a stick (or maybe a dick) up their asses. These are dudes that I would call high maintenance. They’re educated and rather accomplished, well groomed, with a bit of swag, and they even look decent. But they all seem to have a problem with approaching women….or maybe they don’t want to?…. While the women are all out on the dance floor, these dudes are just posted up on the sidelines, drinks in hand, observing. And if you happen to catch their eye, they will stare you down, and never approach you.

Damn these conceited bastards. Who do they think they are not approaching their beautiful black queens. Simple enough, no? But wait. From Absolut Brooke

“please observe obvious signs that the woman is not interested. there is NOTHING worse than a man who is a fucking pest, and following you around the parking lot. you look desperate and lame.”

Um, I mean, that’s fair. OK. Maybe I’ll try out this lounge here. From Josie in the City

“It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with my girlfriend’s, because I absolutely do but at times, when we go out to a nice lounge, I don’t want to watch any of my girlfriend’s lose her sense of self when an “Alpha male” walks through the door. My mood takes a turn for the uncomfortable if there is any outlandish behavior being exhibited by one of the ladies. There is nothing that puts me off quicker than seeing one of the chica’s trolling for men….

All I am saying is that I would love to have some girlfriend time without some lounge lizard thinking he is going to get lucky that night with some hoo hoo action. Not with these ladies you’re not. So beat it. Scram. Move along lounge lizard. These seats are taken and no, we don’t care if you think you “know us from somewhere.” Puleeease.”

Oh. Well, sorry, I was just trying to meet some new people.  Sorry for bothering you.Let’s see what Daydreamer had to say

I’m sorry that I refuse to settle, and meeting my potential husband at a bar, club or party is unacceptable (and settling.)

Call me paranoid but the club scene is not like a bar at Cheers where everybody knows your name. If I am out with the gals for the night, it’s just me and them. Mixing and mingling may get flirty and fun but the buck has to stop somewhere. I have seen too many 11 o’clock news flashes about some bridge & tunnel chick going missing from a local club and her body is found floating in the Hudson. Extreme, maybe. But am I alive? Yes.

In my opinion, meeting my mate in a respectable place kills a lot of speculation and pre-judgment. Recently my homegirls and I entertained the idea of exotic dancing to keep a man happy. We wanted to get a few lessons and take notes on how to this, so what better place than where it’s done live and in living color? We headed to the strip club and I learned first hand that the strip club has become much less about the women swinging on the poles, but more of a social event for the opposite sexes. I was shocked. So sure I meet nice guy A there but WHERE did I meet him? Strip Club. Right. A ton of questions fill my head: What sort of connotation does this place have? Is this where we spends his ‘spare’ time? Did he come here to mack to women? Hmmmm.

There are a couple exceptions to my rule. If I’m attending a club or bar for an event like a private birthday party and I meet a nice guy, I’ll take him seriously. I am also very comfortable with exchanging info at house parties, too — as long as I know the host. The same can be said for professional networking events or group dinners/outings. I always like to have a POR (point of reference).

This POR must be someone I trust and how I can call a) if the guy cuts the fool; or b) to ask a few key background questions. Just as my Mama taught me not to talk to strangers, I don’t exchange info with strange men. Yes, that is what a random man at a bar is— strange.

Well damn. You’ll excuse us if after reading through some of those comments, we feel like women would rather be waterboarded and then sodomized with a plunger than have a man approach them. A lot is made of the dichotomy between how more shall we say “hood” types are willing to approach any woman any time. This is usually said with an odd mixture of both disdain and quiet respect. So here’s why I imagine there’s some hesitance on the part of the upper crusty black dude to put himself out here like that too much:

1. It’s a small world If you’re a bouge, and he’s a bouge, guess what. You either know each other or know some of the same people. So unless he’s fairly certain you’re interested, the consequences of a holler gone wrong can be pretty far reaching. One, you’re going to embarass him at the time and place. Two, you’re going to tell your friends, which will embarass him further. And Three, when your cute friend who actually may be interested in him asks about him, you’ll reply with the “girl, please. He tried to holler at me at Kwabuki’s event.” And since y’all have that rule about dating people who’ve tried to holler at your friends, denied. We’re pragmatic people, women.

2. Professional Haters Not a lot of you, but some of you all take an inodinate amount of joy in shutting dudes down who try to talk to you. It’s probably more of a young thing, and to some degree, a lower class thing, but it exists. This is the chick that’s rude to you for no reason when you say hi, or who has a smart ass response to anything you might have to say. Everyone has to get their self-esteem from somewhere, this just ain’t really a productive way to go about it.

3. Fear of bug-a-booness There are a lot of really great girls out there. And a lot of great guys that are interested in them. But every single day, I see someone getting summerjam screened on twitter or FB of Gchat for “calling too much,” “not getting the hint”, or some other similar phrase for “fuck off.” Maybe it’s the fault of social media, but there’s no glory anymore in wooing ,courting, and winning a woman’s love. Only embarassment and scoffing at the attempt to do so.

I mean, I would love to hear a Barack/Michelle story from our generation, but I just don’t see a lot of it. And in this age where so many people think they are their public persona (quietly, no one really cares. You was who you was fore you got here), there’s added disincentive to go out on a limb.

So, on this one, I’m going to encourage the fellas to give a  little more brass tacks. The Michelles might be a little harder to crack than the thirsty chick who you know is going to give you some play, but maybe she’s worth it. A little light stalking never killed anyone. Heavy stalking, a slightly different story, perhaps. Ladies, you have to carry your game however you feel. I can’t make this decision for you. But I will say this, put yourself on too high of a pedestal, and no one’s going to break out the trampoline to make a leap at it. Happy Hunting.