A young lady I recently met at a concert is the perfect example of why I need back up. Her name was Valerie. She was thirty years old with no kids. That was mistake number one and two. For two weeks she called me on the phone boasting about how she was going to turn me out and make my nose curl, blah, blah, blah. But on the night we finally got together, she was whistling a different tune.
She arrived at my place at 11:00 p.m. wearing a pair of cutoff shorts and a tank top. I escorted her straight to the bedroom and threw my tongue down her throat. Within seconds we were rolling on the bed feeling all over each other. When things really started to heat up, I made my move by unsnapping her shorts. Now, guess what her reaction was after talking all that shit on the phone. She grabbed my hand, pushed me away and said. “I need more time to get to know you better before we have sex.” I wanted to curse her dick-teasing ass out. But instead, I kept my cool and took the opportunity to give her an education about men.
“Look Valerie, I’m sexually attracted to you and you’re obviously sexually attracted to me, so what’s with all the games?”
“I just want to get more comfortable with you, that’s all,” she whined. “I only met you two weeks ago and I hardly know anything about you. We haven’t really talked about a relationship or even gone out anywhere together.”
“Let me tell you something baby, I don’t have the time or financial resources to see you every week or take you out a hundred times before becoming intimate. And besides, this idea you women have of getting to know a man better is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because a man will never show you his true self until after he’s had sex with you, determined that it’s good, and gets it consistently. And then he still may never reveal himself completely.”
“So, what! I’m just supposed to give a man my precious temple without even knowing who he is? That’s crazy!”
“No, what’s crazy is that for the past week you’ve been having phone sex with me, then you show up with your ass and titties sticking out, and now you want to get to know me, woman please!”
After I delivered my speech, I politely walked her to the door and kicked her frigid butt out. My best friend Randy told me I was in the wrong and should’ve been more patient. However, he was more sympathetic two nights later when the same thing happened to him. A woman he met at a film festival came over to his hotel room at 1:00 a.m. dressed in a pair of shorts and a biking top. She kissed him, grind him, and let him suck her. But when he tried to reach for a condom she pretended to be upset and threatened to leave. And since Randy is one of those nice guys who doesn’t believe in having backup, he put up with her teasing all night. To top it off, she had the audacity to demand breakfast the next morning. And this fool paid for it!
Again, I don’t have that problem. If a woman can’t play by my rules, I’ll put her on waivers just like the NBA. There are too many free agents out there who are more than willing to fill her slot. An unrestricted free agent, if you will. This process is known as Drafting. And if you live in a city like Miami, there are plenty of good recruits out there too. Just go down to South Beach and watch the parade of fine women of every race, shape, size, and color. The grocery stores, for example, are great places to scout good rebounders. The laundromats, on the other hand, are prime locations to find that agile woman who can put it in the basket. Even church can be a great place to recruit if you’re looking for an unselfish player who will pass the ball. The bottom line is this; I need a solid team to keep my life simple. You can call it immaturity, insecurity, or whatever. But I’m not going to be like these other suckers out there wasting my valuable time and money trying to find Mrs. Right, when all I’m looking for is Mrs. Right now!
Do Good Men Cheat?
Now that playtime is over, let us turn our attention to the more serious examination of why a so-called decent man would stray away from home. Revered as the most honest, trustworthy, and family-oriented of them all, he, too, has needs. Needs which aren’t being met at home, for whatever reasons. But unlike the D-O-G, he is not deliberately seeking out women for sexual conquests. In his case, sex with the other woman is driven by what he’s not getting at home. Many times the idea to have an affair never entered his mind, but over time due to the close proximity to women in the work place, common interests and an appreciation for their professional talents brings them together. In other words, sex is often the unexpected result, not the motivating factor. Now before you men start beating your chests and slapping five over that assessment, consider this. Although these explanations for cheating are much less premeditated, they are just as painful for the wife or girlfriend who eventually finds out.
EVERYTHING I MISS AT HOME
Home Sweet Home. Home is where the heart is. And last but not least, A man’s home is his castle. These are touching phrases used to express the attitude of the man who is looking forward to coming home to his woman. He may not necessarily live in a mansion or have a perfect life, but he has a roof over his head and his needs are being met. But what about the man whose needs aren’t being met? What does he have to look forward to? Those catchy phrases mean nothing to him since he is often neglected, disrespected and misunderstood when he steps foot in the door. From his point of view, home is not sweet, but sour. And as for his castle, it may just as well be a ragged Hobo’s shack because unless the queen is performing her duties, the King will be unhappy and unfulfilled. What are these so-called duties, you ask?
Well, at the risk of being labeled a male chauvinist, I would have to say there are basically three. One of which is satisfying the man’s egotistical needs. Men are over-grown babies who must have their egos stroked constantly. We need to be told how wonderful we are, how smart we are, and how much you admire how we are handling our business. In other words, we need cheerleaders! Another responsibility of the wife or girlfriend is to see to the supportive needs of her man. If a man makes a conscious effort to educate himself or get ahead in life, he deserves a pat on the back. And he wants to know that she is behind him one hundred percent. One who is totally committed to standing by his side through thick and thin. Many men see the so-called independent women of today as having no staying power. At the first sign of trouble, she’s packed and ready to move on. Over the years of hosting my radio show, men complained about the lack of support more than any other issue in their relationships. On one hand, you have women complaining that men aren’t stepping up, on the other you have the men who are making an effort who are not being supported. Which one is it?
Finally, there is the issue of the man’s sexual needs. Aside from long tiresome workdays, menstrual cramps, and other feminine problems, the man expects his woman to be sexually available to him twenty-four seven. The last thing he needs is a mate who is never ready, and is rationing out sex as if the supply was limited. This is an area where most men are unwilling to compromise and must have absolute compliance, or else! “Or else what?” you ask. Or else he may decide to seek the affection of another woman who is willing to give him what he wants, when he wants it. No man wants to be put on a sex schedule. It takes all the spontaneity and fun out of sex. And once sex becomes a chore to a man, it’s over!
If a woman neglects or refuses to provide her man with these so-called basic needs, is he then justified in pursuing outside relationships? Most women would say, “Hell No!” They believe men who feel dissatisfied at home should either talk it out, seek counseling, or leave the relationship altogether. However, men know their choices aren’t always so cut and dry. Other factors must be taken into consideration, ones that are emotionally draining and economically costly. A gentleman from Los Angeles typified my point. “I’ve been with my wife for twelve years, married for ten.” He says. “I can’t just pack my suitcase, gas up the old Lexus, and drive off into the sunset. I have a mortgage to pay and two beautiful children who depend on me. Not only that, but my wife would take me to the cleaners in the California divo
rce courts.” After making a thorough evaluation of his financial situation, he determined that a move would be impractical. For the moment, he is trapped. He sincerely wants to leave, but can’t. So now what? The cheating man must make a decision. To leave or not to leave? Or rather, to cheat or not to cheat? That is the question.
Patrick faced this same dilemma in his marriage a year ago. He became fed up with his wife’s constant nagging and attempts at trying to change him. Like so many marriages, things became routine and boring. “While we were dating she was a free spirit and seemed to accept me for who I was,” he says. “But after we got married and started to make good money, she became snobbish and expected me to act differently.” However, Patrick was not that kind of man. He was raised in Detroit by a hard working, blue collar, father who taught him to judge people by their human wealth not their net worth. His idea of a good time was watching basketball and drinking beer with his buddies. His wife Nicole, in contrast, was from a well-to-do family in New Orleans. She was basically a spoiled brat who fit in very well with the uppity crowd. Watching basketball and sipping on beer was definitely not her cup of tea. A year after graduation, they both landed great jobs in Chicago. After 4 years of climbing the corporate ladder they decided to get married. But after only one year of what seemed to be the perfect relationship, he found himself becoming deeply involved with another woman. Inquiring minds want to know … what happened?
Patrick’s Story
Our marriage started out like a fairy tale. We were both college graduates and very much in demand in our respective fields. And with combined salaries of over $100,000, we were well on our way to living the American Dream. As it turned out, all that money could not buy a dime’s worth of understanding and consideration. After getting settled in our new home in Schaumburg, IL we began aggressively pursuing our careers.
During those first twelve months, things were very hectic. Nicole was working sixty hours a week handling contracts and other paperwork for a government agency. Meanwhile, I was putting in long hours and routinely flying out of town on business. It got to the point where we hardly ever slept in the same bed together. How does the expression go? “Two ships passing in the night,” that was definitely us. We accepted this chaotic lifestyle as the price of success. We knew it wouldn’t go on forever.
Over the next year our workloads gradually began to lighten up, we spent more time together becoming better acquainted as husband and wife, and as human beings. But what I soon discovered was we weren’t exactly on the same page, or even the same planet when it came to our social status and attitudes about the black community.
As the months rolled by, it was obvious Nicole had bought completely into the yuppie, corporate mentality. First she insisted on updating our wardrobes. “Something more sophisticated,” she would say.
When I confronted her about spending too much money, she jokingly replied, “Sweetheart, I’m not trying to keep up with the Joneses, we are the Joneses!” Ha, ha, Hell! I was thinking to myself. That was the first sign that she was drinking the yuppy Kool-Aid. But I went along with it for a while to make her happy.
Then she wanted an expensive painting for the living room. I went along with that too. Finally, she decided we simply had to have a new car. Something that would be, in her words, “More reflective of our status.” She managed to drag me down to the Mercedes dealership to purchase a brand new 2012 SLS AMG. Now, keep in mind we still had to make our $2,000 a month mortgage payments, and repay my student loan. I know $100,000 sounds like a lot of money, but it doesn’t mean you’re rich. Besides, I was perfectly content with my faded blue jeans, Dogs playing poker poster, and my Toyota Camry. “Who is she trying to impress anyway?” I wondered. But, since we didn’t have any children or massive credit card bills, I didn’t complain. “What the hell,” I told myself, “We deserve to enjoy the fruits of our labor.” It never dawned on me, however, that the atmosphere and identity she was trying so hard to create was for her comfort and my exclusion. Sure, I was intelligent, handsome, and ambitious, but I just didn’t have the attitude which says, ‘I’m better than you.”
Our differences were becoming more apparent with the passing of each day, especially with regards to our choices of friends. Most of my associates were postmen, bus drivers, and guys who hung out at the gym. Nicole’s friends, on the other hand, were real Divas. Her friend Tiffany was the biggest bitch of them all. She drove a BMW and always had her nose turned up. The difference in our social lives became even more evident when she refused to allow her friends to mix with mine. She never once invited them over to the house, at least not while I was around. But to be honest with you, I really didn’t give a damn. My friends and I were having a ball, and the presence of her stuck up girlfriends would have only spoiled the mood. What did bother me was the disrespectful way she would greet my company at the door. Without even so much as a hello, she would turn her back and walk away after letting them in.
“He’s downstairs,” she would rudely say. “And don’t forget to wipe your feet.”
And then there were the sarcastic remarks about their economic status. My best friend, who just happened to be a plumber, was her favorite target.
“So, is Mr. Handy Man coming over tonight?” she wisely remarked.
“Yes he is. Why do you ask?”
“Could you ask him not to park his raggedy maintenance truck in front of the house? It brings down our property value.”
This was her smart-ass way of attacking his blue-collar profession. I guess she figured he wasn’t intellectual enough for her taste. What’s so ridiculously funny about her whole attitude is he damn near makes more money than both of us put together. But it wasn’t just about money with her; it was about status.
Because I loved my wife and wanted to keep our marriage from drifting apart, I sat down with her and openly discussed my concerns. I left work early, bought her favorite bottle of wine, and rushed home to cook. I wanted the mood to be just right. When she made it home at 5:30 p.m., a candlelight dinner was laid out on the dining room table. The wine was chilling and the curtains were drawn. She was clearly moved. I waited until after we were finished eating to tell her how I felt.
“Nicole, I don’t like where our relationship is headed. We need to do something about spending more time together, more quality time. You are my wife and I love you; all I need is for you to meet me half way. How about it?”
As she listened to my words, tears began to all from her eyes. “I feel the same way too sweetheart. Things are getting a little out of hand. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
After talking it over for a couple of hours, we decided on two things. One, to take a vacation together in the fall. Either a trip to Hawaii or a seven-night cruise. Secondly, to throw a get-acquainted party for all our friends. We figured this would be a great way to spend more social time together. All of this took place on a Friday evening in July. But it wasn’t until late Sunday that we began making specific plans for the party. I remember that discussion vividly because it was a very hot and humid night. And I’m not just talking about the temperature either. Her idea was to arrange a dinner party on a Friday night. Of course, I preferred something less formal, like having a barbecue on a Saturday afternoon. What began as a civil discussion, turned into a revealing argument.
“Look baby,” I said. “This formal setting sounds very nice, but people don’t want to be all cramped up when they’re trying to get to know each another. After all, this is supposed to be pleasure, not business.”
That’s when she slammed her pen down on the table and gave me a look, which I had never seen before.
“I wish I had never agreed to go along with this stupid idea in the first place!” she shouted. “I knew you weren’t going to approve of anything that would make your simple-minded friends uncomfortable. Let’s just forget the whole thing altogether.”
“Damn! Where did that come from?”
“I’m sorry honey,” she apologized. “It�
�s hot and I’m tired, let’s just go to bed.”
She gave me a dispassionate hug, walked upstairs and got in the shower. As I began to turn off the lights, I stopped to sit down on the sofa to fully absorb all that was said.
I realized then that her attack was as much directed at me as to my so-called “Simple minded” friends. Despite my good looks, education, and respectable position, my image was not polished enough to show off to her bourgeoisie friends.
I had a strange feeling from that day on things would never be quite the same between us. Unfortunately, I was right.
The weeks following that incident were filled with sly comments about my attire around the house and how I spent my free time. One day she went too far. I was sitting on the living room sofa, minding my own business, watching a basketball game when she walked in with an attitude.
Never Satisfied: Do Men Know What They Want? Page 13