[***Yeah, yeah...it's long. Sue me. And this could very well be one of the most disjointed posts I've written in years. However, my sexxiness precludes me from stopping myself from putting it out there. Sadatay! ***]
There’s a popular clich?�d statement out there that goes a little something like this:
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. You may have heard that somewhere. It’s popular on schoolyards everywhere as future millionaires fend off the numerous taunts of usually bigger, cooler, or more assholish kids who make fun of each other during Act One of the omnipresent stage play, Life.
I know I’ve said it before to somebody. Probably to some girl who called me a name when I was six or seven. I’m guessing it was my best rebuttal. Either that or the similarly popular, “I’m rubber, you’re glue, whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you.” It’s funny how ridiculously ridiculous these statements are but how clear they are to children. I swear, there isn’t a kid alive who doesn’t know how to turn that statement around on another kid.
The main notion behind these statements is that words are just that, words. That they don’t necessarily hold much Oprah sometimes and that short of being bludgeoned with a Louisville Slugger, for the most part, you can just get up and move on past something someone has just said that you don’t necessarily agree with.
Well, me…I’m calling bullshit, especially the older you get. I don’t know which is a bigger lie: actions speak louder than words or Ken Lay’s actually dead.
And no, I don’t think he’s dead. There are times in life where death just seems a little bit too convenient. Ken Lay’s untimely demise? You bet your ass that’s one of those times.
And for the record, I do think actions speak loud. But I think that words carry just as much weight.
Now, I won’t be focusing on that “actions speak louder than words” segment, but more on how certain words really can totally get you in an assblender of trouble. One specific word actually. But since I’m verbose as a German bratwurst, I can’t just simply tell you the word. With that said…
…what’s the worst word you can call a woman who’s got any sort of interest in you?
Or shit a man for that matter?
You in the back.
No, it’s not bitch.
Though calling a woman a bitch is not recommended and calling a man a bitch can result in an asswhippin.’ Unless you’re friends of course and as along as its been discussed at some point that such language is okay and that all parties are in agreement that such okayedness is indeed alright, or alright with me, like Janet Jackson who has a new song out that really isn’t so stellar featuring Nelly produced by JD which sounds a lot like “We Belong Together” which sounds a lot like “Confessions” which was the partial title of a book by a woman with a son who is of school age who must venture everyday around a bunch of people who know that the best thing his mother has ever done in her life was fellate Shaq…well.
I mean, it’s a fucked up word to call a woman and all and probably will fuck you up in the game but by the point you actually were to call a woman that I’m guessing the interest has probably dissipated faster than a Halle Berry relationshiop.
But no its not bitch.
Ah, what the hell, just for good measure: Who you callin’ a bitch!!?!!?!!
U.N.I.T.Y.
You, over there scratching yourself.
No, it’s not cunt. Though…though, I REALLY don’t suggest calling a woman that, especially if she likes you. She will commence to un-liking you. And just…why would you do that?
You all are killing me.
The word?
Buddy.
Yes. It’s buddy.
Oh, you don’t believe me? You can case study this shit if you want to. Allow me to offer a situation from my own life as fodder for discussion.
Once upon a blue moon, I was a lovestruck idiot in college. I’d managed to find a woman who for whatever reason got me all in a tizzy. Now, despite my constant attempts to woo this woman, she managed to fend off my advances like she was practicing for the National DisANigga Time Trials. But she didn’t exactly want me to not continue to woo her since my woo-age was neither stalkerish nor annoying. My woo-age included flowers, poetry, trips to cheap dinners. Basically, I had your all around being a nice guy who really likes a girl thing going on. I’d do dumb shit hoping she’d take notice despite the fact that she’d made it clear she wasn’t really trying to be with me, though clearly she was interested but it might have just been in the way I treated her. Figure out if she’s worth it, then treat her like a Queen. I had that little equation backwards.
I was idiot, hear me roar. Actually, it should read like this. I was idiot, heard me roar (since this shit was in the past and all).
But one fine day, as we were on the phone, me in my non-chalant manner innocently said to her, “hey buddy…”
STOP.
Have you seen I’m Gonna Get You Sucka? Do you remember the part where the mother who is on her period turns into the monsterish thing who is doing back flips and shit when folks come into her house looking for Jack Spade? Yeah, that was this chick. Hell, throw a conniption in there too.
I felt like I had just shot her grandmother with a rusty barnacle. She went off on me. Now remember, this was a chick who didn’t want to be with me, but apparently she for damn sure didn’t like the connotation that comes along with being called a buddy.
“I am NOT your buddy.”
Sheesh.
I left that alone after that and had learned my lesson.
That was until the next time I used that term and the exact same shit occurred.
And you know what, I didn’t get it at first. Why would these women who seemingly don’t want to be with me get so offended at the use of the term “buddy”. Then it dawned on me.
Women fucking HATE that word because it makes them feel less special. “No he didn’t call me his buddy. What I look like? His boy Jim that he plays ball with!!! Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit…he better had get right in his mind!”
And in some ways I can kind of understand. Maybe its unintentionally intentional, but words like “buddy” and shit tend to pop up when people are dating and they’re in that limbo, where-are-we-going stage. Maybe we’re all just playing mind games with one another.
I prefer mind strip-poker.
While we’re talking about stripping, I actually played strip spin the bottle once. Talk about just TRYING to find a reason to get naked.
Mentos…the freshmaker.
Back to the point.
The dude is thinking that if he calls her buddy and he gets a reaction then he knows she’s feeling him definitely. Kind of like forcing the green light. On that stupid ass Love Jones shit.
I need to say this here…I fuckin’ HATE when people try to passively aggressively bait me into shit. I know some folks who go out of their way to force an issue by total beat-around-the bushage. I want those people to get hit by lightning.
Most people I know hate passive-agressive ass bastards too. It’s one thing if two dating people are passive-aggressively feeling each other out in hopes of, you know, feeling each other out later. It’s something altogether different when people say this:
“We might need to talk about something later on.”
Umm…the fuck does that mean? What do you mean might? If we might need to talk about it later on then we probably DO need to talk about it now.
Spit it out nigga!!!
Sounds personal, n’est-ce pas?
Wow, I’ve taken some tangents but that was some major tangential shit right there.
Ah yes, women hate feeling less than special. Especially if they like you. Even more especially than the past especially if questions are lingering about the direction two people are heading.
Yo, are you actually still reading this?
In some ways I don’t even think its deeper than that. An interested woman wants to know that you feel that she’s more special than other random folks in your life, whether its true or not.
Speaking of which, and since I’ve already written like a gazillion words, what in the fuck is up with some women really thinking that they should be the ace numero uno priority in a man’s life, above his family and shit. I had to cut a chick back before behind that. She actually told me that she felt she should have a higher place in my life than my momma(s) and sisters and just family over all.
After like 3 months.
Of knowing each other.
I thought she was joking. She was not. I thought it’d be best if she exited my life. She did not.
She went bye-bye.
I think at this point, my original point, whatever it may have been has gotten lost so let me just end with this nugget of advice:
Wear shower shoes in public showers.
Goodnight and goodluck.