it was all good just a week ago…

Oh fellas…Every now and then I feel compelled to tell you the truth. It’s rare. And I very much try to suppress the urge. But off we go before I lose my nerve…

Here’s the scenario. You meet an attractive potential situation wherever you encounter such things and commence the dance called dating. Drinks here, three strategically placed phone calls there, a dinner/movie date and one day time outing later…and no sex. So, by this time, you might be doing the internal calculations. Three dates have passed and you have spent anywhere from $200 – $1000 depending on where you live, what she ate and what that magical daytime date entailed. You have spent approximately 3 hours in anytime minutes and 100 thumb strokes on bbm or 200 on an iPhone because of that damn autocorrect.  And finally, you have had anywhere from 15 minutes Marc Nelson style to a couple hours if Marvin Gaye is more your thing of um…’personal time’ with her Facebook photos. Read more of this post

easy like sunday…umm…afternoon…

i, as did many of my brethren, looked on in amazement as young lolita so eloquently attempted to convince us of something we kinda already told you repeatedly knew…one of the benefits of having a lady on the team is getting a clear view of how wrong you still can be about us…even after we give you the answers…this was another very clear case of how one can gather all of the right facts yet come to the wrong conclusion…

we like dumb women…yeeaah…no…dumb women key your car because they find one of their own pre-colored hairs on your couch…while smart women know it’s ok to pay for dinner sometimes…statistics probably will show how the higher a woman’s income is the less likely she is to be married… Read more of this post

mama let me upgrade you…

yeah, so we’ve been talking for some weeks…months…let’s just say some time…and now you’re trying to figure out where this is going…we seem to “click” but for some reason, you haven’t been able to transition from “this chick i’m kinda talking to” to the “one”…when asked about it, i garrulously plead the fifth (i say a bunch of ish that doesn’t really make sense which essentially equates to saying nothing at all)…which leaves you diagnosing me with the apt but oft overused commitment phobic condition…but my fear of commitment is only partially to blame…i’m actually not afraid of commitment at all…i’m afraid to commit to you…and i have a bigger fear of telling you the truth…the whole truth…because, quite frankly, i don’t think you can handle it…but if i didn’t, this post would only contain this paragraph and my agent told me that wasn’t good enough so…

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