In the past few months I’ve gotten emails or tweets from various ladies asking me to blog on certain subjects that they want to talk about or that they don’t understand. This week this pretty young thing gave me the all CAPS treatment and demanded that I talk about the fact that all “quality” men are either taken or gay. I don’t think that’s true. Why can’t women meet men of substance? Don’t look at the man—look at the places you’re meeting them.
If you’re going to the usual local places, bar, club, etc… you’re asking for trouble. You know who goes to these places looking to exchange numbers? Basic Bitches. Basic Bitches frequent Basic spots. That’s a part of what makes them Basic. The inability to expand is a quality Basic Bitches cling on to. You see the Basic Bitch is like the Native American. The Native Americans settled this continent, then said fuck it, “We’re good”. They had no desire to sail into the void and see what was out there, so all of their advancements went to waste and they let European douche bags come over and house their red asses. I don’t care if your Hair’s done. Nails done. Everything did—if you’re going to the same Mexican restaurant every Tuesday to drink in front of the same thirsty niggas, you’re not fancy—you’re a basic ass broad who will only attract local bums. So it’s up to you, are you going to wear that Nordstrom’s dress to the same old club you go to twice a month, or do you dare to step your game up and make a reservation at a place you’ve never been. Are you going to be Sitting Bull? Or are you going to be Alexander the fucking Great?
The Club: We all love going to the club. Men don’t front about why we love it. If I’m going to a club it’s not because I want to hear Young Jeezy, I own limewire, I don’t need to go anywhere to listen to music. I go to the club so I can look at the women, maybe grind on an ass if she moves me. The number one reason girls want to go to the Club—“I want to dance”… Bitch stop lying. You go to the club and sit near the DJ speakers or lean against the wall. Why? Because you have no intention of sweating your hair out or having some stumbler spill cranberry and vodka on your Wet Seal’s finest. You’re there because you want to catch a niggas eye. I’m sure you will draw attention. But look where you are. You’re in the nigga club. 9 out of 10 dudes that approach you are losers who probably borrowed money to get in. You look over that way—VIP; those niggas don’t get up from that table. And even if you motion your hungry ass over to flirt with one of them, what are the odds that they’re ballers? Splitting two bottles between six niggas— do the math. Go ahead and spend the night talking to that guy with the folex watch on and dangling his I-class Lexus keys in front of you. If he’s in the same club that you are in, more than likely he’s not looking for a wifey, he’s looking for a ratchet he can talk out of her panties in two weeks or less. You’ve been warned.
The Bar: The bar is like the club but condensed. Unlike the club, niggas who patrol bars have the gift of silver tongue bullshitting mastered. The number one reason girls want to go to the bar—“free drinks”. That may be true, but as always they’re looking out the side of their eye for something sexy. I’ve been at the bar observing a few time. The greatest thing is to see a girl make short term eye contact, just enough to let you know, I see you, then she’ll stand up and pretend to stretch or go to the bathroom. This is like a matting call. Shorty did that so you can see the ass and body. Unlike the club, Bar hoppers sit most of the night, so it’s important for the man to know that she’s not Beyonce while sitting down and Wendy Williams while standing up. If she’s hitting he’ll come over and start to spit that pimp in her ear, if he’s smart he’ll wait until she orders another drink so he won’t have to come out of pocket (never spend your parking garage money buying bitches drinks). Now you’re open because he’s telling you about his job working with “several promising accounts” whatever the fuck that means. Unlike the club, you’re not going to give up the number and bounce; you’ll get a chance to bond. You don’t even know it, but while you were sipping that chardonnay pretending you like it more than Moscato, you just gave this nigga the first date for the price of a drink. Now when he calls you to go out next weekend, the ground work is done, hell he’s probably even kissed you goodnight. He can skip taking you out, since you were just at the bar, and go straight to the Red Box movie while trying to get you to touch his dick. Game Over.
The Mall: Are you 16? Then why the fuck are you responding to any guy who calls out “Hey shorty” while you walk through the food court? Niggas don’t care about where they pick girls up, to us it’s always time to find something new. I have homies who still cruise the mall for ass. Why? Because she’s A) Going to be open to giving him the number because this is how she’s use to niggas hollering. B) She turns out to be 17 years old, but she won’t tell anyone. Hey, I’m not saying you’re not going to run into a decent dude while you both stand in the pretzel line, if it happens organically, go for it; he may be “the one”. But don’t give the “fuck me eyes” to some goon ass nigga who walks up to you in Macy’s and starts to flirt. Why the fuck is he in the juniors section anyway? I’ve never heard a good ending to the phrase “Oh, I met him in the mall”.
The Church: So you haven’t been to church in 7 months. Your homegirl says “come to my church, girl it be some fine ass professional men up in there”. Are you fucking insane? I don’t have the biggest respect level for religion, but even I know that’s pretty fucked up to be dick hunting on the Sabbath. Sure little Leon grew into his head and has some juicy lips, but do you know how many people will know that you fucked him by the next Sunday. Church people love to gossip. It must be something in the Jesus juice, but those people know everything about everyone who walks through those doors. “You see Monica, Lisa’s daughter? That little heffa done sucked little Leon’s dick and swallowed the seed—loooordddd”. It’s called Praying—not preying.
Your Girlfriend’s House: 30% of my sex has come from inner house hookups. Girl invites her homegirl over to meet friends. Girl ends up getting smashed in the guest bedroom. If you come over to your friend’s house with the prerequisite of “He got his friend over here and he’s cute”, then you’re asking not to be taken seriously. That shit is one level below a brothel. I’m playing Xbox, and you bring your friend over so you can feed her to me? How easy is that! I’m not going to have a serious relationship with a girl who’s thirsty enough to come running at the first text message of “new dick”. How many other homes have you ran up in with condoms in your purse and heart shapes in your eyes?
You may not be a Basic Bitch—but if you’re looking for love in those places you just downgraded yourself big time. So where does a Boss Bitch go to meet a Boss? You’ll have to wait because I have to go put my Halloween costume on. Peace!