“Why don’t you put on that nice sports shirt and slacks I bought you? Don’t you get tired of wearing gym shoes and jogging pants all the time?”
“Now she wants to play fashion consultant,” I said under my breath.
I ignored her remarks and went back to watching my game. I guess she got the message because she stormed out of the room with a frustrated look on her face. But she wasn’t through yet. One hour later, she was back to pick up right where she left off.
“Why do you have to go play basketball with those same guys every weekend?’ she said rudely. “Why don’t you try something new like tennis or golf?”
That was about all I could take from her. Trying to change my character and choose my friends was her worst mistake ever. I made one last effort to control my temper, but it was in vain. I sprang up from the sofa and got in her face.
“Let’s get something straight!” I said while pointing my finger at her. “I work hard every day. And if I choose to sit around this house all day buck naked, with a beer in my hand, that’s my business. And furthermore, I don’t want to hear anymore of your rich girl shit about who my friends are and stupid golf. Now leave me the hell alone and go play with your fake housewives of Chicago girlfriends!”
She grabbed her purse off the counter, gave me a mean look and slammed the door shut. I was upset too, so I snatched my gym bag off the patio and jogged the half-mile to the health club. I needed something to relax me, and the gym was always the perfect medicine. On that particular day, it was exactly what the doctor ordered.
By the time I finished my routine and changed into my swim trunks, it was about 9:30 p.m. The club was going to be closing in a half hour. So, I dashed out of the shower and headed for the pool. I was determined to get in a few laps before leaving. After splashing around like a mad man for about twenty minutes, I took a rest on the edge of the pool. That’s when I looked up and noticed the aerobic class letting out. Jessica, who was one of the instructors, acknowledged me with a wave and began making her way down. What I liked about her was how polite and cheerful she always seemed to be. And she spoke in a soft sweet tone. No matter how down I was, she always lifted my spirits with her bright personality. As she approached me from behind, I was hoping her charm would work its magic again, especially with the way I was feeling.
“Hello Patrick,” she said with her usual smile. “I can see you’re having one of those exceptionally funky days, aren’t you?”
“You better believe it. How do you always manage to pick up on that?”
“First of all, the way you tossed those weights around today was a pretty good indication,” she laughed. “Not to mention the fact that you are splashing half the water out of the pool like a big kid.”
“You know Jessica. I’m not one to discuss my personal problems, but answer me this. Why are women so fickle?”
She put her hands on her chin as if to seriously contemplate my question, and then responded.
“Probably for the same reason why men are so horny, it’s only natural.”
I burst out laughing at that one. She had a wonderful sense of humor.
“Well Jessica, thanks to you, I won’t have to go to jail for killing my wife tonight,” I said sarcastically. “That woman is about to drive me crazy.”
“In that case,” she said with her hand out, “I’ll take my fifty bucks for psycho-therapy right now.”
Now that was funny. She really made me feel much better, and boy did I need it. As the announcement came over the PA that the club was about to close, she threw me a towel and asked me to meet her at the front door.
“I have something I want to give you.” She said. Without a single dirty thought in my mind, I showered, put on my clothes and headed for the exit. When I got there, she was talking with another female trainer.
“Here Patrick,” she said while handing me an invitation. “I’m having a Bulls Basketball Party at my place next weekend. Why don’t you and your wife come by and join us? There’s going to be plenty of food, and lots and lots of beer!” she laughed.
“Ok,” I said, I’ll see what I can do.”
After we exchanged casual hugs, I put the invitation in my gym bag and walked out the door. As the door swung shut behind me, I could hear the other instructor yelling out. “And don’t forget to bring one of your handsome, single friends with you!” Leaving the club, I felt great. My muscles were tight and my frustration gone, thanks to Jessica. Although she wasn’t the most beautiful girl in the world, she definitely had a way of making a man feel like a million dollars. When I returned home, I could see the Mercedes parked in the driveway. That kind of brought me down a bit because I really wasn’t in the mood for another argument. “She’s probably waiting at the door with a skillet,” I joked to myself. But instead of being greeted by an angry woman I was overwhelmed by the aroma of food. Nicole was cooking some of her famous Cajun gumbo, and it smelt good too. If this was her subtle way of saying, “I’m sorry” I thought, apology accepted.”
As I walked towards the kitchen, I noticed that the table was set with candles and a bottle of wine. “She must really be sorry,” I thought. The real shocker was what I saw standing at the stove. Nicole was cooking in a teddy. The one I bought her for our honeymoon. I wanted to jump her bones right then and there, but I waited until after we had dinner. She had gone through a lot of trouble, the least I could do was to enjoy it all. Besides, the food was looking almost as good as she was, and I was starved. After eating half the pot and drinking all of the wine, I carried her upstairs, Don Juan style. I made hot passionate love to my wife all night long. She didn’t even complain about her hair getting messed up. And you know how black women are about you touching their hair during sex. It’s like trying to hold a newborn baby and wrestle at the same time.
The next morning we both called in sick. This was the perfect opportunity to turn things around in our relationship. “Who cares about paperwork backing up?” I thought. After making love for the second time that morning, we decided to get dressed and go to the movies. While I ran her bath water, she went downstairs to start breakfast. At that point the day was going perfectly, until the phone rang.
“Wait a minute,” I thought. “I know for sure that the ringer and answering machine were turned off.”
Nicole had obviously switched it back on. I gave her the benefit of the doubt assuming it was either an urgent business matter, or a very brief conversation. What happened next completely and permanently diminished our relationship. She came rushing upstairs as if there was a fire.
“Honey, I’ll be right back. Tiffany just had a fight with her boyfriend and she needs someone to talk to.”
You’re kidding me, right? What about our day together?”
“This won’t take long. I’ll be back by the time you finish breakfast.”
Within fifteen minutes she was made up, slipped into an outfit, and was out the door. I couldn’t believe it. Instead of concerning herself with her own relationship, she chose to run to the rescue of her girlfriend. This time the gym wasn’t going to be enough. Instead, I calmly went downstairs, picked up the spatula and finished breakfast. Afterwards, I called into work and told them I would be coming in that afternoon.
“What’s the point of sitting around the house alone?” I figured. “I may as well get some work done.”
Before leaving out the door, I remembered to grab my gym bag. I usually went to the health club directly from work. As I cleaned it out, putting in fresh socks and towels, I came across the invitation to Jessica’s party. “Boy, I could use some of her good spirits right about now,” I said to myself. For the remainder of the day, I found myself anxiously looking forward to seeing her. I really needed someone to talk to.
At 5:00 p.m. sharp, I was out the door and on my way to the gym. This time the pool was my last priority. As I drove into the parking lot, I was hoping to see Jessica’s Honda Civic parked out front. And sure enough, there it was. I can’t remember the last time t
he sight of an automobile made me feel so elated. I was hoping to catch her at the door to say hello, but she wasn’t there. That’s when I remembered she was the instructor for the 5:30 p.m. high impact aerobic class. So, I decided to change into my sweats and join in. She was surprised to see me because I usually stayed in the weight room or the pool. As far as I was concerned, aerobics were for sissies and fat people. Boy, was I ever wrong. Ten minutes into the session I was ready to pass out. She took us through a workout more strenuous than Marine boot camp. It was clear to everyone in the class she was trying to kill me. Besides looking in my direction every five seconds, she made sarcastic remarks about my manhood.
“Well girls, do you think these macho men appreciate how hard we work to get into those tight mini skirts?”
“Hell no!” they all yelled all at once.
Of course, I was the only man in the class at the time. What a coincidence. After the class ended, she sympathetically came over with a towel and a container of water. In a friendly way, I wanted to choke her to death.
“How could you do that to me?” I asked with my hand on my chest.
“I was just trying to make sure all of your frustration was gone from last night,” she laughed.
“You did one hell of a job, let me tell you.
“Here, you big baby. Sit back and let me help you relax.”
She walked around to my backside and began massaging my neck, and it felt good.
“Why don’t you take your shower and meet me downstairs?” she said.
“Good idea. I think your workout will last me until next week.”
After freshening up and putting on my clothes, I walked towards the front door to meet her. When I got there, she was surrounded by a group of men hounding her for her number. As I said, she wasn’t a raving beauty, but she had lots of appeal. When she saw me coming, she politely told them she had business to attend to. I could see they were pissed off and jealous. But hey, that was their problem. She pulled me into her office and partially closed the door.
“I know this may sound rather forward,” she admitted. “But how would you like to join me for a snack and cocktail at my place.”
“Well, I think …”
“Wait, before you answer” she interrupted. “I want you to know that I understand that you’re a married man, and I would never …”
“Hold on for a second, Jessica …” I interrupted her.
“No, you hold on, please allow me to finish,” she said as she cut in. “It’s just that, I never get a chance to talk with you one on one, and I think we could be good friends. No expectation, no demands, just friends. Ok, now I’m done.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Absolutely!”
In that case, let’s go.”
“Are you for real?” she said looking stunned.
“Look,” I said. “I’m hungry and I’m thirsty. If your refrigerator is full and you don’t have children from hell, I’m all in!”
“Cool, let me lock up and I’ll meet you in the parking lot!”
We exited the club as discreetly as possible. People are forever in your business, you know?
I followed her for about twenty minutes to her place. When we got there she broke out a bowl of spaghetti and garlic bread. We spent the next couple of hours on opposite ends of the couch talking about sports and our personal lives. It wasn’t long before she got around to asking me about my wife.
“So why doesn’t your wife ever join you at the club?”
“She’s too busy shopping and getting her nails done.”
“Have you ever fooled around on her?”
“Well, aren’t we getting personal?”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I guess that was going a little too far.”
“No I don’t mind, I have nothing to hide. No I haven’t even thought about it. Now, let’s talk about you. Where is that special man in your life?”
“Nobody wants me,” she said as she walked to the kitchen to refresh her drink.
I believe women only say this because it puts the man in a position where he has to tell her how wrong she is. Of course, I took the bait.
“Jessica you are one of the most desirable women I know.”
“You really think so Patrick?”
“Sure I do. Any man would be lucky to have you as his woman.”
Although she set me up for that response, it was the absolute truth. Physically she was in outstanding shape. No doubt due to the daily workout like the one she put me through. And as for her appearance, she was a little above average. She wore her hair in the old school Toni Braxton style, and she had thick lips like Sade. But most impressively, she was a basketball fanatic. What more could a man ask for? As I said, she had appeal.
That night was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. The following weekend I went to her Bull’s basketball party, and had a great time. Needless to say, my wife did not attend. Instead my best friend the plumber, came along. The day after meeting Jessica, he made a very interesting observation. In his exact words, “Man, that woman treats you better than your own wife.” And then he said, “You two have a lot in common.” That was not the last time someone made this same comment. But Jessica and I are only friends. And no! We haven’t slept together, yet. Although I must confess, our relationship feels very much like an affair. Is that possible? I say this because she is the first one I call with good news, bad news, and when I need understanding. However, Jessica is not the woman I promised to be faithful to. And until that changes, I’m only going to call my wife when I desire sex. But you must admit, it’s a damn shame when another woman has to fill the empty void left by my marriage. Eventually, I will have to make a decision about whether Jessica and I can remain just friends. There is no way in the world I can guarantee my feelings won’t grow stronger being this close to a woman who treats me so good. And the tone that she uses when she speaks brings out the masculine caretaker in me. I can’t emphasis enough how much that impacts a man. I hope my story causes women everywhere to ask themselves two questions, do I speak to my man in a way that makes him feel like “The Man” And most importantly, “Am I my man’s best friend?”
Unrealistic Expectations
One of the most significant reasons why both men and women find themselves in such disappointing relationships is because of the superficial standards they use in determining who will make a good partner. The man, who has watched too many rap videos, is looking for a woman with the perfect magazine face and video vixen body. While the woman, who has seen too many reality TV shows, is searching for a man who is six five, with a large bank account, and a nine-inch penis. Not once during courtship does anyone ask, “How do you feel about buying as opposed to renting? Or, “What percentage of your income do you believe in saving and investing?” And equally as important, “Would you be willing to support me if I wanted to start my own business in the future?”
These are questions that should be addressed before getting married and most definitely before having children. A gentleman named Michael I interviewed from St. Louis thought he had made the right choice for a mate. That was until he told her about his idea to quit his job and start his own business. Her reaction was not what he expected. She did not kiss him and say, “Oh honey, that’s a great idea, you can do it!” Instead, she put her hands on her hips and declared, “Not with my money you won’t.” All of a sudden her great cooking and physical beauty were irrelevant. She was instantly transferred into a selfish dream thief!
She failed to realize that her man was not necessarily seeking her financial support. However, he was hoping she would be there to rub his sore back and say, “Hang in there, baby, you can make it happen.” Or at the very least, offer to lend a hand in her spare time. Obviously, that was asking too much. She turned her back on his dreams, and left him no other choice but to seek support elsewhere. That’s right, another woman. She loaned him money, prepared late night meals while he worked, and provided much needed encou
ragement when no one else believed in him. And today, thanks in large part to her efforts, his business is off the ground and prospering. “So, why doesn’t he just leave his wife altogether?” you ask.
Again you are looking at this situation from the female perspective. As I stated earlier, other factors must be taken into consideration, the most important being his children. He realized a divorce from his wife would result in separation from his two kids and that was unacceptable. Not to mention the financial cost. Child support, alimony, and lawyer fees can be pretty expensive. It didn’t take him long to do the math and decide the price of leaving was too high. With the business finally making money, and his girlfriend fully accepting his situation, he discovered what so many other wealthy and not so wealthy men have, “It’s cheaper to keep her.”
Give It to Me Right!
The reason why many so-called decent men cheat on their mates often has nothing to do with support or understanding. You know as well as I do that the number one reason why most men are dissatisfied at home is because of sex. Either they are complaining about the quality they’re receiving or the quantity they’re being denied. First things first, let’s start with the quality issue. No man wants to come home to a woman whom he has to coach into good sex every night. Week after week, year after year, he patiently waits for his wife or girlfriend to elevate her sexual aggressiveness, physical endurance, and fundamental skills. “Ok honey, lift your leg a little higher,” he directs. “Don’t stop now baby, don’t stop.” “Ouch, not that way sweetheart, I can feel your teeth!” he shouts.
Never Satisfied: Do Men Know What They Want? Page 14