People say that girls grow up to marry men like their daddies, be it who they actually are in their prescience or who they perceive them to be through their absence. My daddy was sort of in between; around, but deeply entrenched in that old school way of thinking that fathering means providing and therefore working more often than not. My daddy isn’t a bad guy. Really, he’s a simple guy; he’s worked the same, non-glamorous job for most of my life. He cooks better than every woman in your family. He has a great smile that has never needed the aid of braces, unlike his daughter. He’s not fancy, but he’s reliable and kind. And if this way of thinking is true, then I will likely grow up to marry a simple, hardworking guy, with a bit of an issue with emotional displays who is charming enough to talk his way into or out of anything.
I’ll take it.
Before we can get into why that is relevant, first you should go read this convo with very NSFW language. You need to go there and read it first, then come back here.
Don’t worry. I’ll wait.
All caught up? Great.
So first of all, let me say to the men…
Some women DO have insanely high standards. Some of them are looking for all things fly and flashy in man and miss the substance. Some women don’t recognize that what a man does for a living has little bearing on his ability to love you.
That’s all true.
But dream selling women on your monkey ass “potential”? There are exits in the front and rear of the cabin.
It has become such a popular refrain that I can almost sing it by heart, like a nursery rhyme. Damn near the worst thing anyone could have done is found out Michelle Obama gave the President a chance when he was just an intern with a hole in the floor of his car.
You lazy assholes have been using it as an excuse ever since.
Barack Obama being broke and in law school IS NOT THE SAME as you still living at home with your mom post 30 because you “invested” in an Escalade. You barely working 3 shifts a week down at the Piggly Wiggly IS NOT THE SAME as him being a student. You are not a BOSS. You are not “making moves”. Having a job does not equate to you “being out here grinding.” YOU’RE THIRTYFUCKINGFIVE. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE A JOB.
Don’t try to guilt a woman into
dating you giving it up off the strength of the “potential” she should see in you. God bless her and her premium Indian Remy, but fuck Beyoncé. I am not trying to upgrade NOBODY in these streets.
I am not a fancy person, despite all evidence to the contrary. Unless, of course, your definition of fancy is “speaks the King’s English and has no criminal record.” I come from a long line of hard working, simple people who have built long, satisfying lives without second homes or six figure cars. I don’t believe a man needs to have a gold embossed business card to make me happy, so spare me your baseless character slander. I am just very clear that being with someone while they work towards a tangible, finite goal, is not nearly the same as being with someone who wants a hero cookie because they can spell goal.
Have all the seats.
If you should be so lucky as to find a woman so gullible to want to be the one to reheat your cold chicken when you come home from your midnight shift at the gas station where your sole life aspiration in life is to clock out so you can go home and get high, then you should hold on to her. Hard.
‘Cause the rest of us out here? We ain’t buying it.
As you were.