I know I go on and on, ad naseum, about how I wish I could find a woman to spend the rest of my life with. My rants about "hating the single life" probably made many of you wish that I would hand in my testicles already, and get a job writing for the Lifetime Network. Even though I will admit that sleeping in an empty bed, watching my friends play with their kids, and having a constant internal debate with myself on whether I should pay for sex or not sucks complete ass, based on the few dates that I have been on recently maybe I should be careful what I wish for. For example the first date I went on was with a woman named Karen, a beautiful Librarian chick who I couldn't help but think nasty "..and then I bent her over the microfiche" thoughts while we were out. The date went well until she hit me with one too many "a dude I used to fuck with" stories, and the mere fact that I yelled "you don't have a vagina, you have a clown car!" when she told me she had six kids probably ruined any chance for a second date.
The next date I went on was with a chick named Julia, and as far as I knew she was the perfect woman, she liked real Hip Hop, she was a culture snob, she was right up my alley. That was until she exposed some very manly idiosyncrasies that made me nervous, like the very macho uber masculine handshakes she gave me throughout the night, the fact that while we were walking she spit out about 5 "loogies" like a seasoned vet, and the small detail of her asking me, "Are you going to let me fuck you later??" kind of weirded me out. Huh?? I feel insecure enough about my manhood, I don't need some rough ass broad pulling my hair screaming "Put that where it doesn't belong!!!"
The last date I went on was with a Spanish chick named Maritza. She was pretty, smart, she had a "tramp stamp" but I didn't hold that against her, and she was a great conversationalist. One of those "conversations" had us discussing "real people vs. Fake people". I don't know what she was trying to accomplish, I guess she wanted to prove to me that she was a genuine person or something, but she poured the contents of her purse all over the table we were sitting at like Ally Sheedy in "The Breakfast Club" and shit. I guess I wouldn't had been so shocked if she didn't have 3 pairs of spare panties, so many condoms you would have thought passed them out a high schools or some shit, feminine products, and a sharp "shank-like" object that looked like she had made it as a weapon while she was in prison. I guess the look on my face spoke volumes because she said, "You don't have a few things that you can't live without on a daily basis??" I don't really know what my answer to her was at that time, I was so transfixed on the Magnum size condoms laying on the table and my probable inability of actually "touching the sides" if her and I had sex, but I thought about her question after I dropped her ass off though. This is what I came up with.
Shell-Toe Adidas: Ever since I was a kid standing in the middle of an audience at a Run D.M.C concert and Run had everyone talk off their shell-toes to the point that all you saw was a sea of three stripped sneakers, I knew that I would be loyal to that shoe to the day I die. Of course I can clean up with the best of them when I have to and wear a suit, but to be honest not much has changed since my Catholic School days because the times I do have to wear a monkey suit, as soon as I get through the door my clothes come off faster than a Prostitutes on Payday. But I have been known to rock an expensive suit while wearing shell-toe Adidas, its the only thing that makes wearing a suit bearable to me. Of course I have other sneakers, from Jordan's to a reissue of Converse's "Weapons", but nothing feels more like a pure extension of my foot like Shell-toe Adidas.
Wristwatch: I don't know what it is, but if I leave the house without wearing my watch I feel somewhat naked. It's almost a superstitious thing because of an asswhipping that I once caught, that one time I got arrested, or the time a girlfriend suddenly decided to leave me at a birthday party being thrown for me, I blamed all those incident on "me not having my watch" that night. I could be somewhere and not really have a pressing engagement to speak of, but I will constantly check my watch as if I had an important date later on. It's a horrible habit to have, I know, but it gets worse when you think of me constantly checking my watch impatiently at a friends funeral, when a girlfriend expressed her undying love for me, or in the middle of being ridden like an untamed thoroughbred.
Gum/Breath Mints: Have you ever had a friend that made a life long impact on how you live your life?? Well, I had a friend named Colin like that when I was growing up. The impact he had had nothing to do with his loyal friendship, rogue-like advice, or any other attribute a friend may have, he had a lasting effect on Humanity F. Critic because his breath smelled like a thousand miles of shit. I didn't know what his deal was, rotten tonsils or food lodged between his teeth from the Carter administration, but after a conversations with him it felt like you just got finished tongue kissing a horse's asscrack. Through the years I told him about his mandible stench, I don't know if he attempted to do anything about it but until this day people always say shit to me like "Damn man, Colin's breath smells like a god-damned autopsy!!" Because of all that, I make sure that I am always equipped with an arsenal of gum, breath mints, mouth spray, or a combination of all three.
Recently, while Colin and I were hanging out and I got a whiff of his breath, I angrily yelled out "Fuck, your breath is so bad I can taste it!!" You can only imagine my embarrassment when Colin told me the lengths that he went to correct his problem, brushing his tongue, changing his diet, flossing, medication, you name it.. Now not only do I feel sorry for Colin now I feel paranoid, because what if the breath freshening agents that I'm using aren't working?? Fuck, another thing for me to think about all day..
IPOD: When my dear sister gave me an Ipod for Christmas I never knew that I would spend more time with it than my last three girlfriends combined, my trusty hand lotion, or the autographed picture of Rosario Dawson that I have in my wallet. I know that people tend to use their IPOD's when they are doing something that doesn't involve human contact, but I use my little black device for exactly those occasions. When a woman I met took offense to me saying that "Mary J. Blige is a fucking buzz kill" and proceeded to read me the riot act, saying that I "just don't understand Mary's pain"(you hear the same thing from Tupac fans.) I turned on my Ipod as I witnessed the woman in question waive her hands like she was a fucking air traffic controller. Or the time recently that I had somehow got involved in a conversation with a local pastor, so when he tried to recruit me to his "cult" I inconspicuously turned my IPOD on while he talked, to the point that he probably thought I was nodding in agreement when I was actually nodding to Big Daddy Kane.
Ring my father gave me: My father, for reasons I could never articulate because I was far from his favorite child, gave me one of his rings that he bought in Japan like 40 years ago. It really meant a lot to him, so when he handed it down to me I was shocked, shit I'm still shocked. I'm not really a jewelery guy at all, finding most things rather gaudy, but I wear this ring because it's a gold ring with a jade stone, with a diamond on each side. Let me be honest for a moment, I wish I could say that I wear the ring strictly to honor the memory of my father. That I wear it to feel like I have a part of him with me as I live the rest of my life, I really wish I could truthfully say those things. But the truth is, that ring has habitually fucked men up whenever I put some unsuspecting victim on the business end of a right handed punch. Even though I'd hope my fighting days are over, but as long as I remember to wear that ring I feel that I have a secret weapon in my arsenal if some jackass wants to start some shit.