Evolution Hasn't Come That Far

Hello Blog Fans. So I have been on hiatus from writing because I thought that if I continued to post all of my deepest, sincerest (and often negative) views of love, men and sex, that I would actually be jinxing myself because a respectable man wouldn't want to be with someone who does this. Whatever! I have to be honest with myself and I thoroughly enjoy writing. I have also convinced myself that the kind of guy that I'd want to be with would realize this is for entertainment and would actually find it funny. That being said, I'm back in business.

So for today's topic: Society's Animalistic Obsession with Sex.

The picture you see to the left is real. It was taken on a NYC street with a camera phone outside of a 3 star restaurant across the street from a major urban university. Yes, your eyes aren't broken. The license plate reads "Sweet Pus." To begin, I can't imagine how someone at the Department of Motor Vehicles could have thought this message was rated G enough to put on the back of a car. Moreover, the owner of the vehicle is clearly not concerned with the image that he or she is projecting to the world, nor are they mindful that little children might repeat such obscenities. Tacky. Tasteless. Gross.

Let's just go with the assumption that the proud owner of this Jeep Cherokee is a man because to think that a woman would voluntarily announce to the world the sweetness of her personal mango is unthinkable.

Could you drive your mom around in a car that reads "SweetPus"? Or, how will your date perceive you upon noticing that you have broadcast your love of the female genitalia for the world to see? And what about your neighbors? Your employer? Clearly, your boys might get a kick of it (provided that they are just as juvenile and cavemen), but that's as far as it goes.

Currently the fee in New York State for personalized custom license plates is $68 to register, and an additional $50 per year, so there is actually a monetary cost to this kind of self-expression, beyond the social ramifications.

Marketing managers will be familiar with Maslow's "Hierarchy of Needs," in which sex is considered one of our most basic needs along with food, security and shelter (for reproductive purposes, not what you were thinking). Hence, the old euphemism, "Sex Sells." Because we all want it and need it, but announcing on a license plate?

That's just too much.

Remy Ma - Conceited

I think some of us are forgetting that you have to be your number 1 fan, so thought I'd share my secret pick me up. Wondering if she is still feeling conceited while facing 8 years. Still love the song though! You know I look way too good to.....

Father's Day: The Truth Comes Out

You know what they say, better late than never.

Given my own double Father's Day (those of you with divorced parents with significant others will sympathize... double the gifts, double the fun), I totally forgot to post this in time, but I am hoping that my girls were on the observant tip this weekend. The main reason we single women love Father's Day is because it is the absolute best way to determine whether the man that you are seeing has children. Men lie. Not all. But many. While an honest man will give you a straight answer regarding this taboo topic, most will avoid the question all together and change the conversation so as to discuss something mindless like how great the menu looks, how bad the Yankees stink this year, their dog, or how much he enjoys your company. They will go to great lengths to neither confirm nor deny their seed, but as you know, actions speak louder than words. If on Sunday, he was no where to be found, he has a kid. If you called him, left multiple messages with no reply, he has a kid. If you called, and he picked up, and all you heard was the loud shrieks of four year-olds, guess what? He has a kid. If he came to see you past 10 p.m. and said he was "tied up" all day, chances are that he has a kid.


Don't act surprised, ladies. He gave you several warnings before his unexplained disappearance on Sunday. If he had pictures of infants, toddlers, preschoolers, teenagers or college graduates that bear his resemblance in his home, in his wallet, on his myspace page or on facebook, you knew that he a kid. If every time you went out, he got calls from his "nephew" that ironically bore his name but was also nicknamed "Junior," you knew he had a kid. There was that #1 Dad t-shirt in his closet that you chose to ignore. And when you casually mentioned that you couldn't wait to have children, to which he could only stare at you blindly in horror, you should have known then that he had a kid. In fact, it may not just be one kid. He can potentially have several. All with their own host of daddy abandonment issues and disciplinary problems.

Don't get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with kids. I, like many women, hope to one day have my own. HOWEVER, that does not mean that I intend to raise yours, nor does it mean that I am interested in babysitting. But worst of all, there is a BIG problem that comes along with the kid. You guessed it: The BABY MOMMA.

The BABY MOMMA looms large and ominous, like a thunderstorm that is threatening to strike your house. She is stank. She is ghetto. Her weave is bad and her pants are tight. She is 30 going on 19, and is more concerned about the club on a Saturday night than the welfare of her child. No wonder your lying boyfriend and this broad got together. They are a match made in irresponsible, self-absorbed, bad parent heaven. And lucky for you, there is always the possibility that they will get back together because she needs the rent paid and she remembers just how he likes it.

In short, if on this Father's Day, you discovered that your boo has a child about which he was not upfront, dump him. There is no need to wonder about why he lied or whether you can get past this because if he lied about a child, god only knows what other surprises wait for you in the wings. And with such bad parents, the kid is guaranteed to be a certified monster in the spirit of Chucky.

For those of you reading this blog, and thinking "I had a kid in my relationship, and although we have parted ways, we have both moved on and still come together to raise our child...," we are not talking about you. Plenty of couples that once shared the love of creating a child don't always make it over the long haul. It's the liars out there with the baby momma drama that give fatherhood a bad rap. Jeez, where did all the nice guys go?

The Price of Gas: What Sacrifices Will You Make?

The New York Times recently reported that this is the first time since the 1980's that Americans are altering their behaviors to adjust to gas prices. It cost me nearly $85 to fill my tank at the pump the other day, and quite frankly, it is enough to make you want to stop moving and breathing until the prices go back below $4.25 a gallon. According to a survey by the NPD Group, 12% of Americans cancelled vacations and 8% used public transportation instead of driving. One seriously life-altering consideration must have been inadvertently left out of the survey. One can only help but wonder how many long-distance relationships got the axe last week after it was announced that gas would hit $5 a gallon by the Fourth of July. No longer will love birds be willing to drive up and down the East Coast to visit each other in their respective locations. No longer will people be willing to catch a flight at the drop of a dime for the sake of love. Hard times call for desperate measures, and sometimes that means you gotta give your man the boot. When it comes down to choosing between eating, doing your hair/nails, or seeing your boo, your best bet is to choose food and your beauty routine in hopes that you will survive the recession, and find a boo closer to home or one that at least one that has enough frequent flyer miles to sustain the relationship. You can just hear the heart break: "Baby, I'm sorry, I love you, but with the price of gas......" He won't understand at first, but trust me, he will thank you later. After all, who wants to be hungry and look busted? That's not exactly a recipe for keeping your man anyway, because as you deteriorate and your hair begins to look a mess, the girl next door will become more appealing to him. You will begin to resent your long-distance boo either way, so cut it short now.

For those of you just beginning relationships, please note that dating someone who lives in New Jersey also qualifies as long distance (unless of course if you live in NJ, but if he is more than 20 minutes away, then I would reconsider). Add the price of the toll to your dating cost: the bridge is now up to $8, plus $5 for the Midtown Tunnel if you are commuting from Queens or Long Island. By the time you meet up with your date, you won't be able to even afford a movie ticket (now $10). The best you might hope for is that your NJ boo treats you to Applebee's, but he may force you to share your Pina Colada and your appetizer so that he can have enough for a quarter tank of gas to make it to work the next day. Better that you just find someone who you may not be THAT into, but that lives within walking distance. I assure you that this "recession" relationship will carry you over until the economy bounces back, at which point, you can rekindle with your long-distance shorty if you so choose.

May the lord pray for us poor folk that have to bear the burden of these gas prices.

Source: PHYLLIS KORKKI. "When Gas Prices Lead to Roads Less Traveled." Nytimes.com. June 15, 2008

Que Bonita Bandera

In honor of this weekend's festivities, we will salute Puerto Rican men. On Sunday, June 8, the streets of Fifth Avenue will fill with millions of Puerto Rican men, women and children. There is much I could say about the state of Puerto Rican men today--the cheating, the drugs, the jail time, the paternity suits, child support cases, etc., but today is not the day for that. There are still intelligent, decent looking Puerto Ricans out there with jobs and without records or children. To them, we dedicate this blog. We would like to celebrate famous Puerto Rican men today that have changed our culture forever. The contributions of these Puerto Ricans have not only helped shape the lives of all Latinos but Americans as a whole.

First, to Roberto Clemente, for paving the way for young Puerto Ricans in professional sports. Today, it is not a anomaly to see a Latino playing professional baseball. In fact, it was Roberto Clemente that began the long-standing tradition of FINE *SS men in MLB. Latinos are now present in all major league sports (even NASCAR, and yes, its a sport), but we truly hold it down in baseball. Whether on base, at bat, or in the outfield, the physique of the Puerto Rican man looks very nice in the uniform. Today, we are proud to say many Latinos have made it successfully and have looked oh-so-good in doing it. Look at the entire Mets team. Try to name one player whose name doesn't end in an A, O, or a Z (white players excluded). Tough right? Special shout to Carlos Delgado, who in homage to his Puerto Rican compay, bears Roberto's number on his Mets jersey. Love you, Carlos!


To Hector Lavoe for transcending salsa into mainstream culture. El repertorio de la musica latina would not be the same without this man..... we are also grateful to him for showing us that we can achieve fame and fortune despite crippling drug habits. A special mention to Marc Anthony and Jennifer Lopez, two very influential Puerto Ricans in their own right. They have kept his memory alive with their 2007 film, "El Cantante" that flopped in theaters, but every Puerto Rican I know went to see it (more than once). I personally own the DVD. Yes, he can't act in the movie. But he cares? It's not about Marc, its all about Hector.....

To Gran Combo and Tito Puente (R.I.P. timbalero), for keeping the tradition of salsa alive well after its popularity in the 70's and 80's. Gran Combo is one of last original orchestras to keep the fire going, and we are grateful. Summers in the Bronx would not be the same without the sounds of "Un Verano en Nueva York." To the legacy of Tito Puente, which still influences young musicians today... little boys everywhere bang on their mother's calderos in their project apartments hoping to one day be like the King....

To Menudo, for giving us a boy band to obsess over in the late 80's, early 90's. NKOTB was cool but they didn't have anything on Ricky back in the day. Special shout out to Ricky Martin (known as Ricky Melendez back in those days) for showing us that you can be super sexy, super gay and a sell-out all at the same time. The new TRIPLE THREAT! Ricky Martin made us admit to the prevelance of homosexuality in our community, despite his denials. Finally, glad that secret is out of the closet (no pun intended). Today being gay in Puerto Rican culture can still be tough, but it is not unheard of, thanks to Ricky.
Show your pride, boys!

To Tego Calderon, for doing for reggaeton what El General could not do--make it stick. Tego's use of old school salsa over reggae and hip-hop beats made it popular with old and young generations. We are also grateful to him for reminding us that yes, Puerto Ricans can be black, and that yes, that they often mix with Dominicans and it ain't that much of a difference (Tego was born in PR, but his parents are Dominican born). We thought he was gonna wreck poor Daddy Yankee's face at one point in the midst of all the beef, but thank god he didn't because there would be no one left to look at.... In this vain, we will also congratulate all the reggaeton artists whose names we can never remember but keep us dancing in the club.

To N.O.R.E -- keep eatin'; RIP Big Pun; to Big Dennis Rivera and Cipha Sounds making it happen for Puerto Rican DJs. There are so many more wonderful Puerto Ricans that I know we are forgetting to mention, but please know that we love you and are happy to call you one of ours. Most importantly, to the Puerto Rican women everywhere that have put up with their "entertaining" ways and have managed to stay strong and beautiful in the process.

And finally, to the ultimate sucker who couldn't keep Cuban Linx from tapping his wife: Fat Joe. He claims he is Puerto Rican but you may have recently seen him making records with no other Puerto Ricans. He is currently riding the DJ Khaled wave (he claims to be Bori, but we aren't so sure), making cameos on a host of songs by Southern rappers and occassionally making an appearance or two in videos. He is NOT cute and his songs are ok (we did like the one with J Holiday yum) but he recently told me that I could not have a picture with him at Summer Jam and then 10 minutes later proceeded to take a picture with a white girl in an 80's outfit. Do I sense a lil self-hate Joe? We thought he was a little corny before the incident but now he is certified as having a bad attitude. And he is often spotted in fast food joints like KFC and Subways (true story). With all that money, you can't afford a better diet and a personal trainer? He gets the "We Wish He Weren't Bori" award for 2008.

To all my Puerto Ricans out there, boricua hasta el fin. See you at the parade.

You always said you wanted to be with a professional athlete: A Miami Tale

A GUEST APPEARANCE by DOC T LOVE.

My dreams have finally been fulfilled, as I have experienced what it's like to be in the presence of a professional athlete. While on vacation in Miami, I was more than ecstatic to be surrounded by Caribbean music, food, accents, and most importantly men. Though I was looking to meet the traditional island import (i.e. a strapping young boy from Jamaica named Sheldon, freshly exposed to white t's and 50 cent mixtapes like his Black American counterparts, or a sun-kissed Dominican named Manuel, who lives on top of his auntie's kitchen/in house Dominican salon like everyone else on 103rd and Amsterdam), I was pleasantly surprised with a new type of import: our brethren from England.

I was initially turned on to the accents and the connection to beats by Sizzla that let two young Caribbeans know that they were raised under the same flag and essentially made for one another (see Pump up her pum pum as an example). Yes, it was Sizzla that connected me and my one true love: Jordan. On first sight, I thought he was too skinny for my taste, but I thought back to prior research that has demonstrated how skinny men have a third leg, so I let my intrigue take its own course. After enjoying a good grinding and winding session, which consisted of me gyrating my pelvis as if the rent was due, I said goodbye to my friend and kept it moving. As it was nearing 4am, I exited the club, ready to head home alone when out of no where, young Jordan came outside exclaiming, "That's MINE."

Looking around for some object that he may have dropped on the floor, I was gleefully surprised to see that young Jordan was referring to me (or at least my body, because he did not make eye contact with anything but my breasts for a good 30 seconds). I felt proud, as he ran around telling his British brethren that I was his wifey. An avid believer in true love, I hung on his every word as he hung on my waist for the remainder of the evening. And that's when it happened: Jordan asked me to make his dreams come true and let him be my "Teddy Bear" for the evening. Knowing that meant I had to give up the goods, I politely declined, while Jordan looked at me as if I had six heads. In attempt to convince me, Jordan than requested that we catch breakfast together, and I accepted because deep down, I really did want to scramble around his hotel room asking myself "where are my panties" at 2pm the next day.

We headed to breakfast, which really meant food and a chance for Jordan and friends to plead their case and convince me to let Jordan "play tongue tricks with my kitty cat." I was advised by his sexy personal trainer from Sierra Leone that Jordan was quite skilled and that because it was Miami, I should live and sit on his face for the evening. Even our Mexican waiters joined the cause of a brown man trying to get his, as they implored me to let him lick the gato.

After he realized I was a tough case, young Jordan gave me the kiss of life. It was one of those long fulfilling kisses that let me know I was in love. After 5 or 6 more of those kisses on the sitting area of Jordan's 1000G a night hotel room, I inquired about his line of work, to which he replied, "I play football, what you Americans call soccer." My naiveté let me foolishly wonder what this 26 year old's real job was, and how he had the money to make multiple multi-city trips to the United States year after year. Ignoring the second trip to the ATM machine (because he could only take out $250 at once), I began thinking about our wedding, and how it would have to be in New Jersey because my family was not traveling to the UK. Continuing to think about our lovely half and hour make out session as the sun came up and how I would tell my grandfather that yes, I was indeed going to marry a Jamaican man, I decided it was time to go before I lost my self-control. I really can't tell you why I said no or what the hell possessed me to go back to my own bed solo. We exchanged numbers, and Jordan gave me his myspace page. After letting him no that I didn't have a myspace page, he asked me to just check him out anyway.

Fast forward a week later, I get back to Durham and thoughts of Jordan are driving me nuts. I have been regretting the fact that I didn't let him smash so I decided to do two irrational things. First, I opened a myspace account (which I have no intentions of using) and second, I friended the father of my children, sending him the following book report:

"Hey sweetie,

I don't know if you remember me, we had breakfast in Miami with my friend and some of your boys. I just wanted to say hey...since you don't have a facebook :(
I see you'll be in LA soon...I'm headed out there to visit family around the 15th. If you're free, we should definitely connect and you can be my Teddy Bear this time ;)
Take care,
D"

Within five minutes, my love responded:

"how u doin babes....yeah of course i remember in jerry's!!!!! teddy bear eh.... ;p xxx"

Less than satisfied, I began to look at his myspace profile and to my surprise, Jordan was all over it in soccer attire. Indeed, your man is a professional soccer player. But rest assured this title does not come without all the riches afforded to professional status. Indeed, he has groupies, the most notorious being some bitch named Alana Wanna and another ho called Lydia [Chlamydia]. The page is full of proposals to be next to my husband Jordan, requests to feel his hard body again, and incessant compliments about his good looks. The good news is that since I only have one friend on myspace, I can tell how many times Jordan has looked at my profile and lone picture that makes me look twelve. We've clocked 4 views today (which means I need to get some provocative pictures up there ASAP).

And so, perhaps this story does have a happy ending. Although I never officially 'bagged' a professional athlete, the least I can say is that I turned one down.

True Love?

So how long does it really take to develop true love? Can it really be at first sight? Or does it takes weeks, and months, possibly years to develop a love that is tried and true, that will last longer than a lil wayne song? It's so hard to tell these days. Nearly every man I meet thinks its appropriate to tell me how special I am, how he can't stop thinking about me, or -- my personal favorite --how he might be falling in love with me. These comments usually ensue until one of two very important things happen: (a) he gets the drawers or (b) he doesn't get the drawers.

Yes, this may seem obvious, but Gen Y men (defined as those born between 1982 - 1997) seem fond of creating the appearance that a relationship may be developing at the speed of lightening only to have it come to a crashing halt after he "taps" that. This is especially the case when a sexual encounter takes place very early in the relationship such as before you know his last name, before you know what he does for a living or before you are even sure that he does not have children (another blog on men with kids to follow). Ladies, be warned, men can flee for the hills even after you have held out for a bit because, to put it bluntly, he just wanted smash. This facade could carry on for days or weeks and he will shower you with the attention and affection that you have craved your whole life (please note: if this neediness stems from severe daddy issues, please seek professional help). He will tell you he loves the way you look in your dress, that he hasn't met someone as special as you in a long time or that he could see himself being with you (although he will quickly note that this does not make you his girlfriend). And so, in a short-lived and short-loved gesture of romance, you go with the flow and..... BOOM! Done. The mystery and excite are over as soon as he gets you in your birthday suit because, like primitive hunters, it is all about the chase and he has attained his goal. And you never hear from him again.

But, don't be fooled. The opposite can also hold true.

A man that makes a sexual advance does not take rejection lightly. Despite all the bravado and machisimo that even the most manly of all men exudes (particularly if you are with a big dude), they are all shy little boys inside. It takes gust and major you-know-whats to proposition a woman for sex so when you go for it, and she says no, you want to move on quickly so as to shake off the wounded ego. Men find women who do not sleep with them to be respectable and elusive, but if they are only after sex, they are not into making the time investment needed to get these women horizontal, and so they move on to an easier target. Unfortunately, these women hold out because they hope that the man is being sincere in his compliments and flattery, and that by holding out, they may strengthen a bond that has the potential to turn into a lasting relationship. WRONG! You never get to that point because he was never really interested in anything other than your papaya, and so you should be happy that at least he never got a sneak peek at your grandma drawers. And just like the woman in scenario one, you never hear from him again. So in short: damned if you do, damned if you don't.

So does true love really exist? Yes.... but unfortunately, you have to kiss a few toads before you get to prince charming. Just pray you don't catch warts in the process.

the height series: part two (lil dudes)

Part Two in the Height Series explores the phenomenon of the lil dude, or those men who measure 5'6 or shorter (yes, we realize that men who are between 5'6 and 6'0 occupy this in between space where they are tall enough to be acceptable to most women, and so they are not covered here). Whereas the big dude is often characterized by sexiness, the lil dude is often described as "cute" or "adorable," and is often overlooked by women. In fact, short men tend to be more successful in life because they easily avoid the distraction of random panties being thrown their way. This is often because they must compensate for being vertically challenged, which fuels their ambition in other areas. Some examples of famous lil dudes include: Ludacris, T.I., Danny DeVito, Lil Wayne, Nelly, Too Short, Sisquo, Ray J, Napolean among others. Furthermore, several celebrity couples boast a women who is TALLER than her man with or without heels, and so, although they might be a big dude for all intents and purposes, but they share the lil dude experience. Such famous couples include: Mark Anthony and Jennifer Lopez, Russell Simmons and the Kimora Lee (now divorced), Jermaine Dupri and Janet Jackson. In these instances, the man's success overshadows his height deficiency and his mate is willing to overlook other areas that might also be affected as a side effect of his shortness (small hands, small....).

Many women often write off the lil dude because they believe they can only find sexual satisfaction with a tall man, but this is not necessarily the case. In fact, these men are often willing to go out of their way to offer to please their women through cunilingus and other forms of sexual stimulation, particularly if their male member is of a below average size. Be warned, it can be a little disconcerting to witness a man with a baggy condom, but if he scores a perfect 10 in every other category and is determined to find other ways of pleasing his woman, this relationship may have what it takes to survive. Please note that just because a man might fall into the lil dude category, it does not necessarily mean that he will automatically have a small penis, and you may find yourself pleasantly surprised.

Nonetheless, in order to stay with a lil dude, you may have to condemn yourself to a life of flats, but luckily for you, this type of style is currently in. You may also be tempted to occasionally leave him for a big dude, but before doing this, one must consider your financial position in life without the presence of your lil dude. If you are reliant on your lil dude for shelter and/or cash, you should reconsider (particularly if your big dude falls into one of the categories described in the previous blog). If the situation looks grim, just hold on and find comfort in the fact that we are all the same height when the lights are off.

the height series: part one (big dudes)

There are seldom topics that arise so important they awake one out of their sleep at 2:29 a.m. on a Sunday, but this one could wait no longer. Lately, I have found myself noticing a trend in today's dating scene that merits some attention: the correlation between a man's height and (1) his personal achievement, (2) his sexual prowess, and (3) his propensity for relationships. My original hypothesis was that tall men, [ herein referred to as "big dudes"] defined as 6" or taller without the aid of shoe lifts or other devices, would be more successful that short men [herein defined as "lil dudes"]. Along with this assumption followed that they would be better in bed, and would therefore make better husbands. This blog post will discuss the research I did to prove this hypothesis, and the outcome of the information I have gathered. Extensive sampling was done to test correlation #1--career success. Men sampled were surveyed in bars, on NYC streets, the subway, academic environments, parks, restaurants, tattoo parlors, clubs, and gyms. To test correlation #2, we largely relied on second-hand information and anecdotal stories told by the women who helped to conduct the research on part 1. Correlation #3 was largely determined by the results of part 1 and 2 (eg. no job and wack sex was an indicator of poor relationship material), and so therefore it did not require separate sampling. In all instances, the data on the man's height was taken by observation, with the researcher taking into account the size of her heels to get rid of any bias. Information about career was collected through questions such as: "What do you do? Where do you work? How long will it be until you are off parole?"

I first began my study over a year ago, when I found myself back on the market after an extraordinarily long and useless relationship. As one could imagine, I was excited to go out and find my Mr. TALL, Colored, and Handsome. At 5'7", I want someone who could stand over my, hold me in their arms, and make me feel as safe and petite as a girl at 4'7". Given my height, this usually requires a man of at least 6"2" or better. This can be difficult to find, particularly among Hispanic men, whose origins trace back to the vertically-challenged Aztecs, Incas, and Mayas. Africans and their descendents in the Americas (eg. African-Americans and black Caribbeans) were most likely to pass this height requirement. White men, for all intents and purposes, were largely ignored in the study for reasons that merit a whole new blog. This quest to find a delicious, successful big dude inspired my research. Here are my findings:

Big Dudes:
These men are generally UBER sexy virtue of their rarity in society. Although it is not necessary their height is often accompanied by rather large muscles that induce impure thoughts of wall-climbing sex among the women that they meet. It can be particularly intoxicating when the dimension of the pectorals exceeds the size of a women's head, and this may cause her to overlook other important variables like, well, everything else. As a result of our study, we found that most big dudes can be placed in 5 major categories:

1- Postal workers: UPS, DHL, Fed-Ex, and the post office among others.
2- Transportation workers: truck drivers, men who work at the airport, cab drivers, train conductors and other MTA employees.
3- The "newly released": also referred to as the formerly incarcerated, jail birds, or ex-cons. Please also see our future post on "The Down Low."
4- Law Enforcement, the Military and/or Security
5- Construction workers

Please note: we purposefully have left out one key category that you may notice is missing: NBA players and other professional athletes. This is done intentionally, because let's be serious. How many of us will have the opportunity to date an NBA player?, and if you do have such an amazing opportunity, you would be more appropriately served by information on paternity suits, hookers and strippers. We have also left out the category of unemployed, because if a man discloses that he is in this predicament he should be overlooked until he can get his shit together.

As evident by the results of our study, our hypothesis was severly flawed and big dudes are no more successful than lil dudes (in fact we found the opposite). While every profession should be respected, the careers that these men choose are not necessarily the ones that will provide for the most comfortable lifestyle. The women in our study recommended proceeding with caution. We strongly urge you to avoid the newly released and marines returning from Iraq. While it is possible for these types to emjoy semi-regular lives, it is against the odds. Furthermore, because of the transitory nature of their employment, these men are capable of meeting hundreds of women within the span of a typical work day, and thus, they are more likely to objectify the women they meet because they view them as easily replaceable.

If you just cannot help yourself, we recommend keeping only the postal, transportation and/or construction workers to jump-off status [defined as a loose, casual sexual relationship in which both parties agree to always wear condoms and never discuss their other affairs], unless of course, you are the type to catch feelings. While Big Dudes often have an advantage over lil dudes in the sexual prowess department, the women that engage these men must be honest with themselves about the reality of his professional stature in life. While the potential to make excellent lovers is high, their achievement in every other department is lacking at best. Unless you are prepared to make all the money, then we would suggest that you avoid them. Your big dude may try to reward you by cooking and cleaning for you to compensate for his lack of funds, but at the end of the day, this may not be sufficient to make up for the long hours and bullshit you put up with just to put food on the table. You may also have to sacrifice things such as manicures and cute clothes because you will be so broke that paying your rent may involve a small miracle every month. If you find yourself discussing your man with your girlfriends and your sentences usually begin like "He is just so big but....", then chances are you are with a big dude on the fast track to nowhere.

If by the grace of God, you are lucky enough to find a big dude that does not fall into one of the above categories, GET ON YOUR GRIND and bag this man before other women snatch him. He is a valuable commodity that may one day even fetch a high price on eBay, given the state of society today. These men should be treated like kings. Women in our study recommended listening to Beyonce's "Cater to You" for inspiration on how to keep these men by your side: http://www.lyrics007.com/Destiny's%20Child%20Lyrics/Cater%20to%20You%20Lyrics.html

To see Destiny's Child perform this inspirational song, please visit: http://video.aol.com/video-detail/destinys-child-cater-to-you/921181560

disaster strikes

On April 30, my purse was stolen at Aura (Side note: The club is located on 18th between 5th and B'way. Do not go. The girls look like pitbulls and the guys look like Lil Wayne).

In a momentary lapse of my normally good judgement, I rested my exceptionally big, heavy, expensive bag on a speaker so that I could properly dance with reckless abandon, as if to put out a mating call for the single young gentlemen out there (Ladies, please learn from my mistake: never put your bag down unless you want it to walk away). The rest of the evening's events are a blur, but I do recall meeting one particularly cute guy, who had no sense of time, space or reality, because he thought it was appropriate to approach me as I was busy cancelling my credit cards. Although we never did exchange numbers, he has crossed my mind a few times since... you can imagine my sense of excitement when a twist of fate (with a lil help from facebook) has brought me one step closer to him. I came home the other night to a random friend request from a stranger. While I normally decline these, I recognized the Bank of America employees featured in the profile picture, who happened to be there the night of the crime. These young men are all good friends and have all pursued a career in personal banking (please note, this is not the same thing as a teller. I confirmed. I have been unable to confirm the salary, so if you have information on this, please post a comment). The following is an excerpt from a facebook thread that ensued between me and Mr. Bank of America, herein referred to as "BOA":

Facebook Thread #1:
Me (May 15 at 1:50am): Hi. I don't think I have ever met you, but I met your two boys in your profile pic at a party a few weeks back. I actually cursed out the dude in the middle (nothing personal, I had my purse stolen so I was a bit irritated). They were with this other dude that worked for Chase... I was actually trying to holla at him, but when things got heated, it broke up. If Chase boy is on facebook, tell him to holla at me. Please let him know the girl that got her wallet stolen at Aura says hi, and that if he is interested in opening my bank account, I am down.

-J Mar

PS. How did you even find me on here?

BOA (May 15 at 1:58am): Lol wow that is fuuunnnyyyy!!! I remember telling me the story but I didn't kno it was u. U were friends wit someone I knew and for some strange reason I clicked the add buddy thing. As u can see I don't have that many buddies cuz I only accept ppl I kno but something probed me to request u. That is just crazy. Lolol. We're guna have a field day wit this tomorow.

Me (May 15 at 2:02am): Who are you telling? I just called my friends hysterically laughing because we haven't stopped laughing about the whole thing since it happened. Tell dude in the middle I am sorry that I cursed him out, but at the time he was laughing about how the thieves through my sneakers in the street, and I literally blacked out. It was a tough night. I don't know any of their names, just that they were all trying to open a new bank acct for me. SOOOOO FUNNY. What's Chase Boy's name (so I can stop calling him that?) Is he on facebook. I want to request him. I really can't stop laughing at the irony of this all.....


Facebook Thread #2:
Me (May 15 at 10:49pm): can i get the invite to the champagne room? [in response to his status quote: "Champaign room halla!"] loll. i was hoping i would have heard from chase boy by the weekend.

BOA (May 15 at 10:51pm): Lol we didn't get up today but, we'll meet tomorow and see what's good. So who's that girl in the blue? Is that mine?

Me (May 15 at 10:55pm): in the turquoise? i got u. thats my best friend. i can make it happen, but u gotta bring chase through.

BOA (May 15 at 10:58pm): Lol. I see ur studyin ur mba effectively. I like ur business savy. Lolol

Me (May 15 at 11:06pm): u are horseplayin lol. can i at least get his name? im going out now. goin to grand. DJ CAMILO is spinnin. holla though. let me know the deal. i got u with shorty in the blue if thats who ur feellin. u scratch my back, i scratch urs.

BOA (Today at 2:06am): Lol. I don't mind scratching ur back but my itch is elswhere. Lol. Make it happen soldier.

Conversation over. Itch is elsewhere? Gross. There are ointments for that.

the booty text

We have all received them at one time or another, and quite frankly, a new phenonmenon has taken over. And I am NOT feeling it. The previously celebrated BOOTY CALL, an invitation for hot sex placed at late hours between two consenting adults, is now an endangered species. Electronic Evolution has taken over, and with the onset of text messages, it has been replaced by none other than the booty text.

Yes, booty text.

It has an awful ring, doesn't it?

This is because where the booty call often initiated sexy bantor between two horny individuals through human-like communication, the booty text just leaves you feeling dirty, like internet porn. The booty text offers no intimacy. It offers no opportunity to get excited at the sound of your lover's voice. It does not entice you to leave where ever you may be (at home, the club, a dinner, out with friends, Alaska etc.) at ungodly hours so that you can properly get your freak on and climb a wall:

"So... wassup? hun." Sunday. 3:09 a.m.

This? This after our last encountered ended over a month ago with me saying "I'm not interested in the late night creep" because (sigh) I actually want a relationship. So, as most twenty-something year old males do, they pretend to be deaf, disregard and choose not to give a shit about a woman's feelings. The ironic thing is that he might have gotten some if he would have at least respected the art of the booty call. You can imagine my disappointment. So I did what I thought was best. I looked at the phone, ignored how bad I wanted him, and then went back to bed, only to respond the next morning:

"Was asleep with you texted. Holla at me later...." Sunday, 11:01 a.m.

This I thought would somehow send the signal that I was not a whore, and that if he preferred to communicate in an adult fashion, we could do so at a later time.

Again, I must have not made myself clear. He did not "holla at me later." Instead he waited over 24 hrs to reply, and which point, he felt it necessary to put me back in my place, letting me know that I was nothing more than a crap shoot:

"I just though i'd take a chance with u sat. night. I was all ready to 'go' that night." Monday, 9:46 p.m.

So I did what any self-respecting woman would have done:

"Lose my phone number" Monday, 9:48 p.m.

Silly boy.... texts are for kids.