The Air Up Here, Vol. V - "Get Yours" Edition

Okay, so I was reflecting on some of my writings the other day and it appears that, in the past, I may have been a wee bit judgmental in some of pronouncements. Hey, what can I say? I’m a Virgo. Do you know what a tremendous burden it is being right all of the time? It does have the tendency to make one, well . . . judgmental. However, I will cease to be judgmental anymore (at least on the following topic).

I came to an epiphany a few months ago while driving back from a favorite DC nightspot. While waiting at a red light, an Escalade full of African-American women that rolled-up next to me seemed to object to the ethnicity of my female companion that was riding shotgun. You know how you can just feel someone looking at you? Well, I slowly turned my head and they were all hitting me with the “Look at this trifling-ass Negro” look. I was thinking to myself, “Okay, I know this looks bad. You see me and I got a shirt open, and then there’s the white girl (only half white). But I promise ain’t nobody humping, nobody is humping . . .” Seriously, the event was totally innocent, but I could tell that in their minds I had already been tried, convicted, and sentenced. I could hear the classic line, “With all the black women in D.C. (or Atlanta or Houston or Philly) and you’re selling out.” I’d breakdown the fallacy of that assumption, but it’s not integral to my argument right now. However, what hit me like a ton of bricks the next morning (and no it wasn’t the hangover) was the line from that cheesy NBC PSA with David Schwimmer, “Don’t judge.” As I marinated on those two words for a few hours a whole new philosophy formed within my mind regarding dating. It can be encapsulated in the following two words: “Get Yours!” I know that some of you all just choked on your French fries. Y’all are absolutely shocked and appalled right now. “Isn’t he supposed to be the sensitive one of the group? Isn’t he the one that had readers in tears with his ‘goodbye love’ speech?” Yup, it’s the same one. But I want you to hear me out before you start getting disappointed.

Throughout the years, no one has come down harder on the ladies for running after the “thug life” fools at the expense of the “nice guys” than me. However the more I pondered the situation, the more I realized that my logic was flawed. As a former marketing major, this should have been immediately apparent to me, but back then I let my emotions get in the way. One of the basic tenets of marketing is to give the people what they want (or at least construct a favorable marketing environment activating internal stimuli to create a need for what you are peddling, but I’m not giving a lecture here). If the needs of the consumer go unfulfilled or the buyer makes a “substitution” that appears to satisfy their need but later finds that it is not up to specifications, then the dreaded “cognitive dissonance” sets in. This is more commonly known as “buyer’s remorse.”

To extrapolate this concept to the dating world, if a woman is in the market for “thug life,” but decides to opt for the nice guy, then that relationship is setup for failure. Why? Because no matter how nicely she is treated by that gentleman, in the back of her mind what she really desires is a thug. She doesn’t want a cat that is going to cuddle up next to her during that period of post coital splendor. She wants that dude that is going to get up and do the “beat it up right” dance, while telling her to clean up the living room and get in the kitchen and make some tacos. Therefore, absent a thug, she is not being completely fulfilled in the relationship. Conversely, the “nice guy” is also the getting the short end of the stick. Although she may be the sunshine of his life, there is no way that she is giving the relationship maximum effort (no matter how many protestations to the contrary), because she really wants someone else. Contentment may reign supreme for a moment, but eventually he will realize that her level of commitment is not equal and disillusionment will ensue.

So ladies, if thug life is what you want, what you need (what cha want, what cha need); then go out and get you a fresh out of jail, wifebeater-wearing, dope slanging, pants sagging, roughneck, 50-Cent clone. However (AND THIS IS KEY) when you do, don’t start complaining when that cat doesn’t want to get a job, wants to lay up in your crib eating Cap’n Crunch and playing X-BOX, and looks at you all crazy when you ask him where he’s going, whom he’s going with, and what time he’s going be home. Just shut it up. Oh, and as a loyal reader asked me to put in this section, don’t start calling your friends at all times of day and night complaining about what’s going on, when they told you not to get with that dude in the first place. Trust me; they don’t want to hear it. Keep those lips pressed real tight together because, after all, this is what you wanted.

But don’t just think I’m talking to the ladies; fellas, I’ve got something for you too. I hear the ladies talking about how the brothers only want the video girls with the stripper bodies. Or they only want the light-skinned girls with long hair; regular girls need not apply (I’ll put special emphasis on that topic later). Ladies, they are doing you a favor. If he got with you, a “regular” girl, he wouldn’t be happy. Why? Because every time you all went out he’d be checking out the Amerie-looking girls (my favorites) or thinking about the girls with big ghetto onions (also my favorites). In fact, you could probably say that my favorites would be the Amerie-looking girls with the big ghetto onions (I see you getting ready to push the DELETE button right now, but don’t do it). He wouldn’t be fulfilled, because you “regular girl,” are not what he really wants. Conversely, you would not be fulfilled either, because he would not be giving 100 percent to the relationship and putting you on the pedestal that you so rightly deserve.

So guys, if want to, go ahead and get your own version of Karine Steffans (better known as “Superhead” to most) with a posterior so phat that you could serve a three-course meal off of it. However, don’t start complaining when she starts yapping about why you haven’t given her any money to go shopping with or fixed her weave, why y’all aren’t eating at Tavern on the Green every night, why y’all aren’t taking any trips to the Turks & Caicos, why you’re not tippin’ on four 4’s, and why she absolutely must go the club tonight because Young Jeezy might be there. Yup, when you start hearing this, players, do like the The Roots and don’t say nothing; because you got exactly what you asked for. Oh and I almost forgot the fact that you better start putting in some serious time in the gym, get yourself looking all Ginsu 2000, and develop an affinity for red meat; because I can “gua-ron-tee,” like the late Justin Wilson, that there will be plenty of beef from some fool trying to test just how hard you are (and many times it may be your woman who initiated the conversation in the first place).

The moral of the story is the classic, but still so true, “Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it in heaps / You try to give it back / And God’s like, ‘Nah, that’s yours to keep.’”


--AIR © 2005