Monthly Archives: January 2011

Are You Too Demanding in Relationships? (Man Up)


They say most women subconsciously attract men that remind them of their first loves (Daddy) and I definitely attribute my desire for the Alpha male in the pack to my father.

I remember as a little girl my dad sneaking past me in the early hours of the morning so he wouldn’t wake me, as he always started his routes around 5am. At the time he worked for what we now know as a defunct symbol for corporate fraud. A true Enron of the 1980’s, which had the bright yellow T-shirts and hat to match: Crazy Eddie.

Life was good then. Money was never an issue in my household, the more there was to be made, the more my father brought home. He gave us anything we asked for—if we deserved it, of course. Birthdays were always filled with some piece of gold and cake, lots of cake. He ruled with a heavy hand, but protected us like a Lion would his pride. He spoke very little and was only concerned with good behavior and high marks in school. When he walked in a room, women would watch and men would move out of his way. He moved with a sedated nature that would frighten people who didn’t know him. He acted as if nothing bothered him, even if it did. These days they call it poker face, I called it stoic.

I remember distinctly a soap opera affair in my household. My mother has always been stunning, even in her “mature” age men still cant believe she has four children, so her youth was no different. In fact, one time my father’s cousin, who I never liked and would watch me steadily with predative eyes, called my mother and asked her to accompany him to dinner. The loyalty and love for my father was impenetrable and she quickly made it known to my father of his cousin’s shenanigans, who might I add, was married with two children. I’m not certain what my father said to him, but all we knew later was he disappeared—literally. He packed his family up and moved to Florida. We never heard or spoke to them again. My father was protective, loyal and didn’t stand for disrespect.

See, my father never lacked testicular fortitude. Something that I seek, even test when dating or getting to know a man. One particular evening, “Dread,” as I call him, decided to pop back into my life again. He was my first love and to this day still my best friend. Despite how wonderful he was and how highly I thought of him, he was in desperate need of testicular fortitude.

He was complaining again about his current relationship, which I would never comment on or input my advice. I never wanted to be the scapegoat for their demise, which was pretty much inevitable. She had three children by multiple fathers. He had none. He was warm, quiet and rarely argued. She was hasty and controlling and would start an argument over salt! He could see no clear and present future with her, but she wanted more children. Again, a disaster on a plate of garbage.

“Why are you there if you hate it so much?”
“What do you want out of your future in 3-5 years?”
“Is there something lacking inside of you that you need to re-evaluate?”

As his friend and ex-lover I knew all of the answers, I just wanted him to say it, digest it, and regurgitate it to the universe. He finally answered, “I’m going to be really honest, Tia. I started dating her because she reminded me of you. She can be quite demanding.”

I paused and was a bit insulted at first. Then, I remembered another male friend of mine saying the same thing over dinner. My best friend calls it “firm love.” Demanding! Of all things, he says demanding! So I started thinking, maybe I was. Or, maybe the man that raised me taught me to expect nothing less from a man since he gave me nothing less than the best. I went on the defensive at first then realized it was pointless trying to explain to someone that I know exactly what I want, when his life was in complete chaos and disarray. I simply replied: “Pray on it.”

No sooner did I hang up the phone did I start thinking about my current beau and his testicular fortitude. He was no stranger to commanding a crowd; he was quiet and terrible at the art of communication. He had a following sometimes he didn’t always want and lived in a grand bachelor pad. He never bothered me, but when I was around him he paid attention and was respectful. He noticed little things and complimented me rarely.

The things he did take notice of were strange to me, things he shouldn’t have seen. Like, the mole on my lip. Or the slight scar above my right eye. He let me say and do what I wanted but stopped me when I went too far. He was careful not to talk too much of the “women” in his life, and always made it seem as if he didn’t really want them. He was a go-getter and witty. He was not excitable, and reminded me how dramatic I was whenever I told a story. He could come up with great prose just from one word. He had to have things his way and rarely smiled, but when he laughed it was a treat from the Creator. He too called me “demanding” and told me off after one of our many pointless arguments. That was now three against one.

Now, thinking about it, he was just like my father in many ways: Strong, silent, ambitious and beautiful. I guess I was okay with his rash comments. At least he had the testicular fortitude to tell me to my face, unlike the others who would whisper it behind my back while asking me to go out for dinner.

Do you look for similar qualities as your parents in prospective mates? Or, do you want to date people that are nothing at all like your parents? Are you attracted to alpha males/females? If so, what is it about those type of personalities that attracts you? Would you rather date someone that stands up for themselves or lets you take the lead in the relationship? Have you ever been with someone that was “demanding” or are you that person? What effect did that personality trait have on your relationship? Would you give an ex advice on their current relationship?

Speak your piece…

What If You Were Ugly For a Day? (A Question of Beauty)

Pretty girls have a warped sense of reality. Generally speaking, they don’t have to work for much. Because of their looks, people tend to do things for them or give them a pass. They get attention early on in life and are constantly given compliments and other things based solely on their outward appearance. It can start as early as kindergarten when little Jimmy gives pretty little Jenny a gift (or hits her playfully), which starts a never ending cycle of men showering her with gifts in an attempt to gain her attention. It’s pretty easy to see how something like that can go to someone’s head.

For those that society does not deem attractive, they get attention as well, but not the positive kind. They get picked on and teased, heckled and laughed at simply because of how they look. Life isn’t easy being an unattractive (or even average-looking) person in a superficial world.

I remember a couple months ago walking to the gym when this woman that wasn’t really heavyset but wasn’t thin either went jogging by. She got into the intersection just as a car was turning and I noticed how the driver, a male, was visibly upset that she had impeded his progress. All this despite the fact that the pedestrian always has the right of way. Had this been a slim PYT in spandex instead of a frumpy plus-size woman I bet his reaction would have been different. He probably would have held up traffic for an hour and watched her with glee as she and her lovely lady lumps bounced by.


It sucks but that’s the way of the world unfortunately. We judge people, places and things by their outward appearance before digging beneath the surface to see what it’s all about. The same courtesy that would be extended to an attractive woman entering a crosswalk should be extended to the person behind her, regardless of their physical features, sex, color, religion or creed. That’s how it would be in a perfect world but again that’s not our reality.

Open up a magazine, turn on the TV or click on a link online and all you see are what most would consider are attractive people—whether they’re Photoshopped or not is another question. You do see a few of the unattractive as well (mostly online) but they’re usually there to be ridiculed. We—myself included—poke fun at them, leave funny mean comments, and laugh. Despite their success and talent, no one aspires to be Gabourey “Gabby” Sidibe (aka Precious) or even Whoopi Goldberg, but our young girls do want to be Amber Rose, Nicki Minaj and the rest of the visually-desirable women of the world.

Being wanted and desired makes life a bit easier in terms of getting out of tickets, having doors opened for you and having the ability to make some men do your bidding, but I understand that there are negatives too. I know I’ve been guilty of assuming an extremely attractive woman would have a bad attitude, is wack in the sack or might not be as smart as the “average” chick behind her. (It’s comparable to the dumb jock that gets passed through school because of his athletic ability and having others do his homework.) I imagine being constantly underestimated because of your beauty would be annoying—unless you actually did have a bad attitude and your IQ matched your panty size—but would it be any better living as an unattractive person?

I’m not unattractive (at least I don’t think so) and have no clue what it’s like but I did have my ugly duckling phase. I remember getting teased for my S-Curl, homemade haircuts from mama and I’ll never forget this one girl in 8th grade that told me I looked like Harpo from The Color Purple. Needless to say, none of that felt good, especially when you saw the taller, pretty boy with the “good hair” or light eyes get all the attention. You’d look in the mirror and wish you were him or just didn’t have this flaw or that physical quirk.

Luckily, I grew out of it and into my once-teased big lips, but what if I didn’t? I imagine that being undeniably ugly or below the poverty line of attractive stock would suck. Not only would every person I pass be a potential critic of my outward appearance, but so would my own eyes every time I looked in a mirror. Well, that’s assuming I lacked self-confidence.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder but we each play a role in what others see when they look at us. How we present ourselves to the world matters. If you walk out the house with an un-ironed shirt or an outfit that’s two sizes too small, all people will see is a sloppy individual. Ugly is ugly in some cases, but self-confidence can trump that all. I’ve seen my fair share of unattractive people that made themselves sexy or at the very least appealing because of confidence and personality (i.e. Biggie Smalls and Grace Jones).

On the other side of that coin, I’ve seen stunningly attractive people that were ugly in action, personality and sometimes to their core. In the long run, I think internal attractiveness trumps outward attractiveness any day, because physical beauty lasts but so long and can be taken from you in a flash. So to quote Ms. Lauryn Hill, “How you gon’ win, if you ain’t right within? Uh uh, come again.”

Have you ever judged someone or assumed they’d be a certain way because of how they look? Do you expect attractive people to be conceited or dumb as rocks? What role does the media play in how we view ourselves? Can you look at yourself in the mirror and love everything you see? Or, are you constantly picking yourself apart in a quest to be “beautiful?” On a scale from 1-10 how would you rate your physical appearance honestly? How do you think someone that doesn’t know you would rate you based solely on looks? Would you trade places with an “ugly” person for a day?

Speak your piece…

I Got Fired Today (My Farewell Address)

Two years ago today I got laid off from my old job. That led me to write an inspiring post entitled “I Got Fired & Got Inspired.” Overnight, I went from a gainfully employed editor at one of the top music magazines to a full-time freelancer writer—again.

See, it wasn’t my first time getting laid off. Several years earlier I got unceremoniously clipped from another top magazine after dedicating four years of my life. Needless to say I was prepared for my 2009 dismissal. I took it all in stride and looked forward to what the future had in store for me. Nine months later I was rehired by the same company for a better, yet less paying, position and a year later I was able to walk out on my own accord for an even greater opportunity. #FTW

My first time getting laid off though was scary. I had just bought my first crib and had no idea what the future had in store for me. To make matters worse, I had put so much blood, sweat and tears into a company that kicked me to the curb for a BS reason that I won’t even get into. In the long run I was better off getting let go and the three years of successful freelancing that followed showed me I could do anything I put my mind to.

As I was searching through some old files the other day, I actually came across the letter I wrote to my co-workers after I got let go. (I told y’all I’m a digital packrat and save everything). Despite being written in 2003, I think the words are impactful and still hold some weight for anyone who’s been fired.

Here, judge for yourself:

To my XXXXXX fam,

Due to my abrupt departure I really didn’t get a chance to say peace to a lot of people up there so this is my farewell address.

Four years and several months ago I walked into XXXXXX a young buck fresh out of college with little idea of what I wanted to do or what the industry would have in store for me. After a lot of hard work, long hours and persistence I can say that I walk out a wiser, more focused and determined individual. I thank all the various people up there that took time out to teach me, listen to me, inspire me and believe in me. Also, for those that dropped words of encouragement and tears of disappointment, I say thank you as well. And for those who said nothing, realize that sometimes silence can be the loudest sound in the world.

I’ve seen a lot of faces come and go during my run with XXXXXX, but had no idea when I would become one of those faces myself. Looking back, though, I think my impact, influence and legacy speaks for itself. After working my way up the ranks, I realize that my blood, sweat and tears will remain in those XXXXXX pages forever (December ’98—March ’03). We made history. It was fun while it lasted, but all good things eventually come to an end.

A wise rapper recently said, “You gotta flip the cards you’re dealt in life.” I didn’t get a chance to flip my own cards because they were flipped for me. But in retrospect, it’s a good thing because I never realized I was holding a full house.

To my peoples: Realize that there’s no point in chasing a check because checks are meant to be spent and your dreams have much more value. But don’t spend all your time dreaming because you might forget to open your eyes. I’m chasing a dream now and I feel I’m a better person for it. And while y’all won’t see my face on a regular basis anymore, believe that you will definitely find my name attached to something worth reading.

And whenever someone tells you, “It’s too big,” “It’s way too long,” or “I can’t make it fit,” always remember THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID (only my peoples will know what that means).

On the other side of the pen….

Anslem “The Free Agent” Samuel
“I write, therefore I am…”

Holla @ ya boy

NEW EMAIL: XXXXXX or 2-Way: (Wow! How old school is this? LOL)

Have you ever been laid off/fired? Were you surprised or saw the writing on the wall? Have you ever been in a situation where you gave your all for a company that didn’t care about you in the end? How much do you trust a company to view its employees and valued members of a team and not just replaceable cogs in the machine? What’s the most important lesson you learned from a co-worker/boss? Have you experienced had survivor’s guilt seeing good people get fired while you still have a job? What would you say in your farewell address? Oh, and did you ever have a 2-way pager?

Speak your piece…

4 People Women Need to Stop Listening To

Most relationships fail because of outside forces… Well, at least in my experience. I can recount several times where a woman and I were great one-on-one, but any time other people got involved in our relationship things went sour. Honestly, I sometimes wish I could just find my perfect woman and escape to a deserted island where we could live out the rest of our lives together and away from haters, instigators and busybodies.

Still, I understand that when it comes to romantic dealings between men and women that communication is a major factor in making things work. But, as we all know, men and women communicate differently so it’s inevitable that someone seeks advice from outside sources. Now, I’m not saying that it’s a bad idea to get a second opinion on something that’s troubling you about your partner, but here are 4 People Women Need to Stop Listening To.


While I credit Beyoncé for knowing how to make anthems that empower women, those same songs tend to steer them wrong as well. Let’s see, she wants a “Soldier” to pay her “bills, bills, bills,” but gets mad when a dude with “hood status” does her wrong and instructs him to put everything he owns in a box to the left. Then, in an effort to get over him she hits the club to grind up on strange men, chanting, “If you liked it then you should’ve put a ring on it.” Yeah, more women should require a commitment from prospective partners—especially if they plan to get all submissive and “Cater” to him—but her relationship advice is contradictory at most. I get why (some) women look up to her, she’s beautiful, powerful and about her business, but that doesn’t mean you should be getting life lessons from her.


Our friends can make for good ears, but their advice is not always golden. If your friends have messed up relationships and/or are bitter man-hating cheerleaders, they might not be the best people to consult about love. (Try friends that are married or in stable relationships). Just the other day I was talking to this sister who told me how things were going great with this guy she was seeing until her friend told her she should put him “on ice” to see if he was really feeling her. Needless to say, going from talking everyday to someone you’re really digging to purposely dodging their calls for two weeks for no good reason other than a friend’s advice didn’t bode well. The relationship went from sweet to sour in, yeah, you guessed it, two weeks. SMH! Like I said earlier, it’s good to get an outside perspective on any given situation but at the end of the day only the people involved know the real dynamic.


Somehow Steve Harvey went from a stand-up comedian telling jokes to a relationship “expert” telling droves of women to “act like a lady, think like a man.” Honestly, I’m not mad at him—he’s a hustler—but from what I’ve seen, his book was basically common sense advice. Still, there are (clearly) a lot of folks lacking that so the lane was wide open for Steve to make his mark. Problem is, we’re talking about a man that’s been married three times, accused of abuse and being an absentee father by his ex wife, and tells jokes for a living. Sorry, Steve, we don’t believe you, you need more people.


I know it may seem strange to see this one on the list considering this is a blog about relationships (among other things), but I don’t subscribe to idea of being a relationship “expert.” If anything, I call myself a relationship consultant because I’m just a man with an opinion—you can either choose to listen or not. The only people I consider to be true relationship experts are those who have been married happily for years. Now those are the people you should listen to when it comes to love and relationships because they’ve actually figured out a way to make it work long-term. Besides, why would you want to get relationship advice from some single person that’s not even in a healthy relationship? #JustSaying

Do you agree that most relationships fail because of outside forces? Why do so many women take Beyoncé’s lyrics as gospel and start spouting out her catch phrases like parrots? Have you ever used a Beyoncé song to get you through a relationship issue? What’s the worst advice you’ve ever gotten from a friend? Are there people in your circle that try to mess up your relationships because they’re alone? Do you view Steve Harvey as a reliable voice of reason for your relationship woes? Do you believe that someone who hasn’t been married can be considered a relationship expert? Where do you get the best advice on relationships?

Speak your piece…

What Do You Think About Tongue Rings? [VIDEO]

Care to guess what my most popular post is? The now infamous one about not dating “baby mamas” I did for MadameNoire?  Nope. Oh, the controversial one I wrote about Greek life “I Don’t Date Girls in Gangs (Sorry Sorority Sisters)”?  Closer, but still not it.

Oddly enough, the post that I constantly get comments on is “Are Tongue Rings Sexy or Freaky? (Suck It or Not).” In case you missed it, I basically broke down my biased belief that most women get tongue rings to do freaky things with their mouth and guys that get them tend to come off a bit “sweet.”

Well, it seems those of the tongue ring coalition haven’t taken too kindly to my post and constantly chime in with their lisp-filled rebuttals (LOL) of my tongue-in-cheek musings. Do I have proof to support my theories? Nope, but that still doesn’t stop me from giving the side-eye to anyone I see with a shiny piece of metal in their mouth.

I was sure I wasn’t alone in my beliefs so I called in on the homie Paul Carrick Brunson aka the Modern Day Matchmaker for some assistance. Paul and his One Degree From Me team hit the streets to poll some people about whether or not tongue rings are sexy or freaky. The end results are hilarious—see for yourself.

Would you be turned off or excited if you date showed up with a tongue ring in their mouth? Have you ever kissed or been intimate with someone that had a tongue ring? Did it enhance the experience? Have you ever wanted or gotten a tongue ring? Why did or didn’t you get one? What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you see someone with a tongue ring? Are tongue rings sexy or freaky to you? What’d think of the video clip?

Speak your piece…

Do You Like Fried Chicken? (The Politics of Poultry)

Yesterday’s post about visiting my grandfather’s grave was emotionally draining to say the least. In fact, I planned to take today off just to mentally recoup, but I’m a glutton for punishment I guess.

Anyway, piggybacking off the “What’s Your Favorite Stereotype?” post from last week, I want to key in on one in particular: Black people love fried chicken. I bring this up because of a series of recent events in the news, mainly word that Flavor Flav has opened up a Flav’s Fried Chicken franchise in Iowa. I don’t know, something about a Black man selling chicken in a predominantly White part of the country just seems a bit, I don’t know, coonish. Jay-Z also recently invested in a Brooklyn wing shop and of course there was that Obama Fried Chicken restaurant that opened up in Brooklyn in early 2009.

With that said, I penned a whole article about the whole chicken stereotype for that you can CLICK HERE to read the full post.

Once you’re done reading it, feel free to post your comments there or drop a few lines here. In the meantime, here are a few questions for discussion I got for you.

Do you think it’s “coonish” for Flavor Flav to open up a friend chicken franchise? Do you view Jay-Z’s chicken wing venture the same way? Would you support either establishment? Would you prefer celebrities invest in healthier or more positive businesses in the community other than chicken and liquor? Do you think people would support a healthier alternative sponsored by a celebrity like a natural juice shop or vegetarian restaurant? For the people of color, do you feel awkward eating chicken, watermelon or any other stereotypical food item around other races? Were you offended when you first heard about Obama’s name being used to sell chicken? Does that come off as racist to you? Do you think that I’m being too sensitive about this whole fried chicken thing?

Speak your piece…

The Last Time I Cried Was… (A Man’s Tears)

[dc]W[/dc]eek before last was the 24th anniversary of my grandfather’s death. In remembrance of him and that milestone I wrote about how sometimes I get this overwhelming urge to go back to the house I grew up in. My grandfather’s death has weighed heavy on my heart for some time now and I’ve always felt like going back home could offer me some sort of closure or, at the very least, an emotional release.

Well, I finally got that last Monday but not from ringing a stranger’s bell; I finally went to visit my grandfather’s grave. I hadn’t been since I was 10 during the funeral, so it was an emotional experience to say the least.

All this time I thought my grandfather was buried in the far reaches of Long Island or some distant part of Brooklyn or Queens that was unreachable without a car. It wasn’t until a month or two ago that my mother told me he was actually in Cypress Hill Cemetery, a place I’d passed numerous times during my cross town treks from Queens to Brooklyn. I’ve even stood just outside the entrance waiting for the shuttle bus when the J train line was being repaired. I had no idea I was so close to where I really wanted to be.

Now that I knew, I had no excuses but still, I was scared. I knew going to my grandfather’s grave would open up the floodgates. But beyond that, I knew he wasn’t there anymore. His body long decomposed and transformed in the circle of life, but still a chiseled tombstone bearing his name would remain, reminding me and others that he was here.

Since I was off Monday for Martin Luther King Jr. Day and had to check in on some work at my Queens place, I figured it was only right that I finally make the trek to Cypress Hill. Just the thought, though, made my eyes well up and I teetered back and forth on the idea the whole day. When I was done in Queens I made the decision to just do it. So I walked to the J train and headed for the cemetery.

As I descended the stairs of the elevated train station all I could see was rows and rows of headstones. They looked like dinosaur teeth scattered randomly across the snow-covered landscape. I made my way across the street and walked through the main gate. No one was inside the security guard’s station so I headed towards what looked like the main office. I pulled on the front door handle but it was locked. I had no idea where my grandfather was buried amongst the sea of stone fins so I needed help. I looked around but there was none. It was just me, myself and hundreds of thousands of reminders of people who were no longer with us.

I spotted another structure up the road that looked like it could have been an office so I made my way there. To my dismay, no one was there either. I stopped, stared longingly at the never-ending rows of tombstones for any signs of life, but I was alone. No one that could help me was within range.

But I didn’t come all this way for nothing. I didn’t come this close to my grandfather’s grave to just turn around and head home. I did, however, turn around. I walked back down the hill towards the main office. When I got there I noticed a trailer with flowers and wreaths out front. As I got closer, I spotted a figure inside. Upon seeing me through the window, the man stood up and walked towards the door.

I was greeted by a friendly man of Asian descent with a warm smile. I returned the gesture and asked if anyone was working in the office today. Unfortunately, the office was closed for the holiday.

I felt defeated.

The man handed me a map and asked if I knew what section I was looking for; I explained how I hadn’t been here in 24 years and had no clue. He suggested I come back tomorrow, while offering his condolences for not being able to help me further. I thanked him for his assistance and begrudgingly made my way towards the exit but I wasn’t ready to leave.

I reached for my cell and called my mother. If anyone knew where grandpa was it would be her. I called the home… No answer. I called her cell… No answer. Refusing to give up I called my brother’s cell… Finally, an answer.

We exchanged pleasantries before I cut to the chase and asked for Ma. I explained to her that I was at the cemetery looking for grandpa’s grave. “There’s a map in my Bible at home,” she said. “But I’m in Pennsylvania for the day.”


“But your brother is home,” she continued, “And he can get it.”

We did a three-way call and woke up my brother, who had the luxury of being asleep at 2 in the afternoon. After he became coherent he headed upstairs and located the Bible, eventually retrieving the map with grandpa’s plot number and section. After comparing landmarks so I could get my bearings straight, I hung up and returned to the trailer and the friendly man inside. He instructed me on the best path to take and I began my journey—finally.

I made my way past countless graves, up steep hills and through an underpass before I finally found the section where my grandfather had been laid to rest. Now, all I had to do was find his grave amidst all these snow-covered tombstones.

I had the plot number but saw no signs of guidance on how to discern one from the next, so I did the only thing I could: I began trudging through the unshoveled rows one-by-one. Walking through the snowdrifts was beyond difficult but I was a man on a mission. A few inches of snow weren’t going to stop me, especially not when I was this close.

I made it through about three or four rows of tombstones before I realized that at the bottom right corner of every headstone, just above the snowline, were sequential numbers. I was about 3,000 graves away but at least now I could stop crisscrossing the rows and find my grandfather’s burial site much faster.

When I finally arrived at the row where my grandfather should be buried I turned down the snowy path and anxiously began scanning both sides for his name. Left then right then back again, until, finally, just a few feet ahead on the left I saw his last name.

I could barely get his name out my mouth as my voice cracked and the tears started piercing the thin layer of my pupils. I tried to run but the damn snow impeded my progress. When I reached the headstone I just dropped to my knees, my face dissected by several streams of tears.

These tears were 24 years in the making. That’s how long it had been since I’d been here and from what I can remember I didn’t cry then. That was a burden carried by my mother, who balled uncontrollably at the funeral. All I remember of this place was a sea of people in black; my mother crying; seeing my father for the first time in a year; me, holding my grandmother’s hand; and the casket containing my grandfather’s body in a 6-foot grave.

CLICK HERE to continue reading…

10 Reasons Why Men Won’t Date You – #Undateable


Alright, ladies, it’s time for some tough love. It seems that some of you would rather tell a soft lie than a hard truth. That truth being that there are quite a few habits/personality traits that are keeping you from having a man.

This post is not to make fun or berate you all. It’s merely to help you recognize the annoying shit you do that causes men’s penises to shrink, what NWSO cause “erection repellent. *NOTE* Every rule has an exception and what annoys one man (or woman) may not apply to the next. *NOTE NOTE* Just because the rule has an exception doesn’t mean it’s a free pass either. You know who I’m talking to :-/


Stop wanting to know so much so soon. Trust us all falsehoods will be discovered soon enough. Until then relax, relate, release…


I don’t care if you served in Iraq and he saved your life. I do NOT trust any man claiming to just being “friends” with a woman, especially one I’m interested in. Men don’t make friends on purpose after the age of 13. I got my eye on him…


I love the fact you’re close to your family. I love that you and your parents are friends… BUT you are a grown ass woman. You should make the decisions for you not them. Tell Aunt Rachel I said what up. though.


You work hard so you should play hard—I get that—but why the hell are you partying all the time? Do I look like Eddie Murphy? Stay home some damn time. Let the bartender miss you. When club promoters and doormen/security know you by name and you don’t own the club that’s a sign that you need to sit down somewhere—and not at the bar.


There’s a difference between a poke on Facebook and a poke in person. Chill out. I can’t control what someone puts on my page. While you’re at it, stop checking my page three times a day. Actually, if you got that much time on your hands then something’s wrong.


You’re looking for a 2Pac with a degree from Yale? Stop wanting the type of man that does not exist. Soap operas and Zane novels have rotted the common sense part of your brain. Real thugs are not real good love matches. Don’t be the bitter old woman mad that you let three nice Larry’s go for a crazy ass Darnell.


So your ex punched you in your left eye every Tuesday for two years..and you stayed. But if I’m late picking you up from work maybe three times and you’re ready to break up. Stop treating the good guy the way you should have treated the bad guy.


Yes, I’m a gentleman with a kind heart. Yes, I believe in treating a woman the way a man should treat his mother. Now, with that being said, could you at least offer to pay a few times. Chances are I won’t let you but can I just get some semblance of appreciation of the funding of the date.


If you were friends with a lot of men on the football, basketball, or track team in school (or now) keep that to yourself. Most men don’t like women with a lot of male friends, which is more so if they played sports. Not to group you all together but, honestly, as an outsider the females that hung around or knew the team were groupies. So if you have a funny story about letting your football buddies bench press you in college, keep it to yourself


Every argument does not need to explode into Wrestlemania. Men respond to yelling from other men by getting physical. We can’t do that with a woman so we tend to just tune y’all out. Talking to us like an adult instead of a child will go far. You get more flies with honey than vinegar.

So ladies there you have it a small list of what really bugs the piss out of us men. If you can work on these things I absolutely promise you may one day possibly have (or not have) a man. So please digest the list and pass it on.

Are you leery of dating someone that has a lot of friends of the opposite sex? Could you date someone with relatives that were too involved in your relationship? Is it a turn-off when someone hits the club every night? Do you stalk the people you’re seeing on Facebook? Would you be upset if someone questioned you about things on your page? Why don’t women ever want to at least offer to contribute to the date? What did you think of Preach’s guest post?

Speak your piece…