Women are simultaneously the most wonderful and most annoying entities to walk the planet.
ACT I: DON’T BE SAM ROTHSTEIN, BUT DON’T BE LESTER EITHER.
“I spent almost $1,000 on this girl for her birthday just for her to bitch about a fucking uber.”
Kid, I’ve been there and felt that.
Long ago, my best friend who has been married for almost ten years introduced me to an ideology known as the “99-1” theory. This theory states that when dealing with a woman you can do 99 things right, but the ONE thing you do wrong is the catalyst for the apocalypse. It’s the end of the world and all your good deeds have been reduced to ZERO, so you’re actually in the hole with a 0-1 record now.
Now, I don’t know if it’s a woman thing or a narcissistic trait but seemingly, the more you do for women the less they appreciate. You have to be EXCEEDINGLY cautious and use discernment when providing for women. I’m certain that the women reading this are responding, “No, you just need to change the type of women you deal with! You should be with someone who doesn’t take you for granted, who reciprocates!”
Not only is that bullshit, but it’s ALSO affirms how women struggle with accountability, because everyone takes everybody for granted until they get STUNG real good. Excuse my grammar on that last phrase.
Dealing with women is a delicate, sensitive dance. Discretion is key and balance is necessary. If you do too much, you’ll create a monster. Don’t do enough, you’re scum.
Imagine running behind your woman night and day, pampering her with the finest things that you can afford, making sure she never lifts a finger and kissing her ass. You’ve become a slave! Now and she interprets you as weak and conquered. The thrill is gone! There’s no resistance from you. You’ve done so much that she’s saying: “Damn. If I can get THIS much from this nigga, what can I get from another man?”
On the flipside, if you don’t do anything, you’re worthless. You’re a dog ass nigga who’s the absolute scum of the earth and you don’t deserve to SMELL a woman, let alone be around one. You’re a manipulative user. A “broke boi.” You aren’t carrying your weight, “niggas ain’t shit” blasé blah.
The key is to find a place where she knows that you’ll do what you’re supposed to do, but also knows you aren’t to be tried. Sometimes you have to tell her “no” and not budge, just so she knows that shit isn’t sweet. She may fuss, cuss, bitch, moan and even try to sex her way into what she wants…but you mustn’t fold. A man has to have a backbone like a crowbar. She’ll respect you more for it. Don’t be a pimp, but don’t be a sucker either.
For some reason, a lot of women comprehend struggle and hurt as love. If everything is going well, they’re bored. That’s why they start arguments when ya’ll are having an amazing week. It’s thrilling! Maybe it’s because the feeling of heartbreak is more intense than pure joy.
They like stiff, difficult men because they see strength in us. For whatever reason, they like to fight for what they want and enjoy occasional emotional suspended animation. It’s exciting to them. I prefer stability and calm, but that’s just me. My gender doesn’t have an entire genre of DRAMATIC scripted reality television to entice us on a weekly basis, but that’s another debate for another day.
ACT II: PERCEPTION IS REALITY
Now for me to sit here and type “all women are crazy” would be dismissive and sexist. I’d rather say that men and women think differently.
Most issues between them and us are matters of perception. Men have a linear perspective. We look at things directly and for what they are. When you look at things from a woman’s perspective, it’s like walking into a room full of security cameras. They see shit from every possible angle at the same damn time.
Here’s an example:
You, a man, just left the gym and stop to get some gas. While at the gas station, you see that FIJI water is on sale so you buy one. You don’t usually drink FIJI but it was on sale and hey, why not try something new? Shortly after you arrive home and leave the half full bottle of water on the counter.
Fifteen minutes later, your girl comes in. The first thing she notices is the FIJI water bottle on the counter because it’s new and out of place. Women are students of DETAIL. That’s why they like calligraphy, sparkly shit and embroidery. Anyway, she sees the water bottle and immediately her mind starts racing.
“When did he start drinking FIJI water?”
“He don’t even like spring water. Shit, he doesn’t even like rectangular shaped shit!”
“What BITCH got him drinking spring water?”
“Better yet, WHAT BITCH he done had over here drinking spring water??!”
Now she’s dusting the water bottle for fingerprints, taking the cap off searching for lip-gloss and sniffing for a sweet scent all because something was out of place.
Before you know it you two are arguing about a water bottle, you a liar, your mama is a bitch and some how you end up apologizing and getting her food.
Perception is reality. We think differently.
ACT III: WAFFLES AND SPAGHETTI
I’ll conclude with this.
Last time I sat down and played chess with my grandfather, a literal retired pimp, he dropped several gems on me, but one in particular stood out.
He told me that men are akin to waffles and women to spaghetti. Naturally, I was taken aback and confused until he expounded. I’ll relay the statement to you all as best as I can.
He said that if you look at your average Waffle House waffle, you’ll see that it’s made up of multiple shapes: One circle, four triangles, and a bunch of little squares. This is a metaphor for how men think. If a man has an issue, he simply goes to an assigned box to handle it. Family Problem? Triangle three, box four. Issue at work? Triangle one, box nine.
Even though the waffle is intricately complex, overall it’s simple because it’s based on a logical set of rules. The waffle is a rational combination of shapes that are based on a reasonable system that breaks down into simple, simple math.
Now look at a pot of spaghetti. The sauce, meat, noodles and vegetables are all jumbled up in there. Everything is blended and makes little to no sense. Somehow, someway, because you don’t like spicy food…you hate her mother’s cooking. Two plus two equals soy sauce. Beyoncé is her cousin just because she says so.
So when she asks you some off the wall shit like:
“How do you expect to be a father and you can’t even fix the refrigerator?”
And you respond
“Ummmm triangle 4, box 9?”
Of course she’s gonna be pissed off, ya’ll are speaking two different languages.
But this is just per my experience. I don’t have all the answers, just a few.
From the West End With Love…
- Malcolm J. Heaggans
- The Friday Night Company, 2017.