Five Times It’s Perfectly Okay Not To Fight For Your Girl

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***In light of the news that Columbus Short seems to be taking this “Gladiator” thing a bit too seriously, I decided to revise and repost a piece that’s quite apropos.***

“Would and could he fight for me?”

It’s a question that somehow manages to be completely relevant and completely irrelevant at the same damn time.

It’s relevant because it’s never not at least a consideration when a woman is deciding whether she wants to commit to a man. Perhaps “Would and could he protect me?” isn’t the first question she asks herself, but she’ll definitely ask herself that question.

It’s irrelevant because, well, no one actually gets into fights. Actually, lemme rephrase that. Some adults still do get into fights. But it’s a very small percentage of us. And, the 7% of adults who still somehow get into fights at least once every other month probably make up 97% of the adult fight total between themselves. And they’re not reading this. Because adults who get into fights have corns. And people with corns spend all their internet time researching corn remedies.

If you asked one of the 93% — the corn-less non-fighters — about the last time they got into a serious fist fight, I bet most answers would fall between 5th grade and “That time in 9th grade when I thought that I was big enough to talk back to my dad. I was wrong.”

A few days ago, Columbus Short apparently sucker punched a guy who said something disrespectful about his wife, breaking his nose and knocking him out.

I’m not sure if the wife was there, or if she personally felt threatened. If so, although a sucker punch is some sucker shit, he’s somewhat justified. (Extra emphasis on “somewhat.”) You’re supposed to defend your wife. But, is there ever a situation where your woman is disrespected in some way and you’re actually not supposed to fight for her? Of course!

In fact, here are five of them!

1. If she kinda, sorta, had it coming. 

Lemme put it this way: If I’m at a club, and I see some dude push my girl and call her a “bitch,” we are going to have a serious physical problem.

But, if my girl happens to be Erica Mena-ish, and she’s talking shit, throwing drinks, and spitting in people’s faces for no reason, and I happen to see one of the guys who she spit on push her out of his face and call her a “bitch,” we are going to have a…conversation. And then we are going to leave. And then I am going to stop at a gas station. And then I am going to ask her to get me a pack of purple Now & Laters. And then I am going to drive off and leave her there.

2. If you’re definitely going to lose…badly.

Look, I can handle one Kimbo Slice. And by “handle one Kimbo Slice” I mean “sucker punch and run from a Kimbo Slice.” (And yes, I would expect my girl to keep up with me. What’s the point of being in Black Girls Run if you don’t take it literally?)

But, if my girl comes over to me upset that some dudes disrespected her, and she points to a table of three Kimbo Slices and three “Comb That Nigga’s Chest Hair” dudes, I figure a slight scowl in their direction is an appropriate response.

3. If you’re definitely going to win.

If you’re 6’5 and 350 pounds and the Kevin Hart doppelganger at the bar calls your girl a bad name, he’s actually putting you in a no-win situation. You can’t put your hands on him, cause you’ll be a lame for fighting a dude half your size. But, you can’t not do something either.

My advice? Just pull out your dick, with your arms extended outward in the “Ta-Da!” pose.Hopefully this’ll shame him into silence. (This also has obvious backfire potential, but you have to do something, right?)

4. If you’ve been wanting to break up with her for some time, but haven’t had the opportunity or guts to do it.

Usually, men in this predicament try to sabotage the relationship by cheating and hoping he’ll get caught. But, why do that and expose her to all types of STDs? Just let her get disrespected in front of you, and let her get mad enough at you that she ends it. Now, you’ve rid yourself of a problem and you saved her from syphilis. It’s a win win.

5. If you’re busy.

It’s not your fault she picked the 4th quarter of game seven of the NBA finals to get disrespected. She needs to learn that if she wants a good defense, she needs better timing.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

5 Times It’s Perfectly Okay Not To Fight For Your Woman

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“Would and could he fight for me?”

It’s a question that somehow manages to be completely relevant and completely irrelevant at the same damn time.

It’s relevant because it’s never not at least a consideration when a woman is deciding whether she wants to commit to a man. Perhaps “Would and could he protect me?” isn’t the first question she asks herself, but she’ll definitely ask herself that question.

It’s irrelevant because, well, no one actually gets into fights. Actually, lemme rephrase that. Some adults still do get into fights. But it’s a very small percentage of us. And, the 7% of adults who still somehow get into fights at least once every other month probably make up 97% of the adult fight total between themselves. If you asked one of the 93% when the last time they get into a serious fist fight was, I bet most answers would fall between 5th grade and “That time in 9th grade when I thought that I was big enough to talk back to my dad. I was wrong.”

Earlier this week, Keyshia Cole became one of the few adult women to have that question answered for her, as her husband—former Cavs guard Daniel “Boobie” Gibson—broke the jaw of a man who reportedly “disrespected” her in some way.

Considering the fact that Gibson is a free agent—and considering the fact that Cole hasn’t had a hit single since the last season of Scrubs—getting into a fight and potentially jeopardizing a new contract probably wasn’t the smartest move. How else do they expect to cover their monthly tattoo bills?

Still, if Gibson legitimately felt that Cole was threatened, no one would seriously begrudge his jaw breaking. It’s his husbandly duty and shit. But, is there ever a situation where your girl/woman/wife/concubine is disrespected in some way and you’re actually not supposed to fight for her? Of course!

In fact, here are five of them!

1. If she kinda, sorta, had it coming. 

Lemme put it this way: If I’m at a club, and I see some dude push my girl and call her a “bitch,” we are going to have a serious physical problem.

But, if my girl happens to be Evelyn Lozada-ish, and she’s talking shit, throwing drinks, and spitting in people’s faces for no reason, and I happen to see one of the guys who she spit on push her and call her a “bitch,” we are going to have a…conversation. And then we are going to leave. And then I am going to stop at a gas station. And then I am going to ask her to get me a pack of Now & Laters. And then I am going to drive off and leave her there.

2. If you’re definitely going to lose…badly.

Look, I can handle one Kimbo Slice. And by “handle one Kimbo Slice” I mean “sucker punch and run from a Kimbo Slice.” (And yes, I would expect my girl to keep up with me. What’s the point of being in Black Girls Run if you don’t take it literally?)

But, if my girl comes over to me upset that some dudes disrespected her, and she points to a table of three Kimbo Slices and three “Comb That Nigga’s Chest Hair” dudes, I figure a slight scowl in their direction is an appropriate response.

3. If you’re definitely going to win.

If you’re 6’5 and 350 pounds and the Kevin Hart doppelganger at the bar calls your girl a bad name, he’s actually putting you in a no-win situation. You can’t put your hands on him, cause you’ll be a lame for fighting a dude half your size. But, you can’t not do something either.

My advice? Just pull out your dick, with your arms extended outward in the “Ta-Da!” pose. Hopefully this’ll shame him into silence. (This also has obvious backfire potential, but you have to do something, right?)

4. If you’ve been wanting to break up with her for some time, but haven’t had the opportunity or guts to do it.

Usually, men in this predicament try to sabotage the relationship by cheating and hoping he’ll get caught. But, why do that and expose her to all types of STDs? Just let her get disrespected in front of you, and let her get mad enough at you that she ends it. Now, you’ve rid yourself of a problem and you saved her from syphilis. It’s a win win.

5. If you’re busy.

It’s not your fault she picked the 4th quarter of game seven of the NBA finals to get disrespected. She needs to learn that if she wants a good defense, she needs better timing.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Three Thoughts About The Uppercut Heard Round The Internet

1. It was 5th grade and I was on a school bus, headed back from a class field trip. Because we had been acting up on the way there, we had assigned seats. I was sitting next to “Kim Johnson” — a fellow 5th grader who I maybe said five words to the entire time I was in school.

Anyway, I forgot exactly what caused me to do this — I think a friend sitting behind me called my name — but for some reason I felt compelled to turn around in my seat and look behind me. In doing this, I must have accidentally elbowed Kim or allowed my bookbag to brush against her face. My motives remain unknown. What is known, are the consequences.

When I sat down, Kim smacked me in the face harder than I’ve ever been hit by anyone before or since. The smack was so hard that there was an audible gasp from the rest of the bus. I even vaguely remember the teacher chaperone on the bus forgetting where she was and saying “Oh shit!”

Just as memorable as the smack, though, is what I did in response to it: absolutely nothing. I sat down, looked straight ahead, and acted as if she didn’t just smack the shit out of me in front of 30 people. Strangely enough, she did the same thing, and we just sat there in silence until we got back to school.

I didn’t respond because, well, as long as I could remember, my parents (my dad especially) were very adamant about the fact that boys didn’t hit girls, and that boys who hit girls were punk-ass little boys. I wasn’t scared. I just had no idea what the f*ck to do. I’m sure my household wasn’t the only household where this lesson took place, as I’m sure most guys reading this — well, most guys with dads around — were told something similar.

Thing is, at that age, because of the repeated reminders that boys don’t hit girls, I didn’t consider the possibility that some girls actually hit people first. (I really believed all that sugar and spice bullshit, lol) Since I never even considered that possibility, I never thought to ask my dad “Well, what do I do if a girl hits me?” and I’m also certain I’m not the only boy who never thought to ask that.

I’m bringing this all up because that uppercut heard ’round the internet reminded me of the fact that some men — myself included — have absolutely no idea what to do if in a situation where a woman is potentially jeopardizing your safety. I know how to handle a guy — well, I know the socially acceptable ways to handle a guy — but women are a completely different animal. Obviously, “uppercut dat hoe” probably isn’t the best answer, but aside from knowing that I wouldn’t have punched her, I honestly have no idea what I would have done if I was that bus driver. Stop the bus? Restrain her crazy ass somehow? (Btw, it amuses me when people say things like “just restrain her.”  like grabbing someone while they’re smacking, scratching, and spitting on you is the easiest option. Shit, I’m 6’2 and 225 pound and I can’t even restrain my cat. How the f*ck am I supposed to subdue some hoodrat high off the steroids found in project Similac without exerting some real physical force?) Call the police? Call my mom and my sister to come kick her ass? Turn around, walk away, and chance them cracking you in the back of the head with a bottle?

Obviously, stop the bus and call the police is the best option, but while I maintain that he was 100% in the wrong (more on this in a bit), if he’s at all like many of the men I know, I’m (somewhat) sympathetic towards him because most guys don’t sit around thinking about “What should I do if some crazy bitch starts fighting me?” That’s a question I’ve never asked myself, and one of the reasons why I date nothing but bougie Black chicks is that I don’t ever want to.

2. It’s interesting how much of a role gender plays in how we process what happened. For instance, there’d be no negative push back if this was a female bus driver dealing with an unruly male or an unruly female patron. In fact, if it was a female bus driver knocking out some thug who threatened her, she’d probably be on “Good Morning America” this week and she’d get a shout out from the president.

Even more interesting is how much of a role gender played in what happened. If this was some male thug causing the disturbance, I doubt it would have escalated that far because the driver (male or female) probably would have called the police much sooner.

Also — and this is where I lose respect for the driver — if you watch the video, you can hear him saying “You wanna act like a man. I’ll treat you like a man” to the woman he hit. Thing is, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that he would not have hit another dude like that. None whatsoever. Basically, “I’ll treat you like a man” is him saying “I’m gonna use the “treat you like a man” excuse to hit you in a way that I want people to think I’d hit a man…even though I actually would never dare hitting some random thug dude like that.”

3. You ever play the “are they ok?” game? Not sure? Well, lemme explain it. The “are they ok?” game is played when you’re out in public and you see someone completely bust their ass in a way that makes you want to see if they’re ok. Thing is, the ok has nothing to do with their safety and everything to do with the fact that you want to make sure they’re not seriously hurt first before you start laughing because, well, you don’t want to feel bad about laughing at it. (The difference between “good” and “bad” people? Good people wait to see before laughing, and bad people just don’t give a damn.)

I’m bringing this up because I played a virtual form of the “are they ok?” game after viewing that punch. I googled the woman who was hit just to make sure she was ok, because, well, I wouldn’t have been able to fully appreciate the fact that it might have been the single best uppercut I’ve ever seen.

How impressive was that uppercut? I literally jumped out of my seat when I saw it. Literally. Like, I was sitting at a table, jumped out of my seat, banged my knee on the table, and ended up knocking my laptop and my feta and shrimp omelet on the floor. I need a new laptop now (I still ate the omelet, though). In 10 years, Tyler Perry will buy the rights to that YouTube footage, cast Drake in a dreadlocked wig as the bus driver and Willow Smith as the hoodrat who just really needs a light skinned man to massage her temples at night, set the entire movie in a church parking lot, and call it “Tyler Perry Presents: Drivin Me To Heaven.”

I realize that admiring the actual punch while being disgusted by its existence takes quite a bit of cognitive dissonance. In some way, I think that being a fan of sports — football in particular — makes it a bit easier to make those distinctions. If you ever yelped at a vicious tackle, felt bad when the guy didn’t immediately get up, and felt less bad when you saw that he was going to be ok, you’ve “practiced” being able to process the ambivalent feelings felt when viewing a video like this.

Is this a dangerous thought process? I don’t know. I do know that I’ve viewed that video perhaps a dozen times now, and I feel bad that I don’t feel worse about it.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

just don’t do it (three of the most common relationship mistakes women make)

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as t.i. and tiny continue to prove, romantic relationships aren’t a continual loop of milkshakes, bliss, burps, and glee. sometimes you’re gonna hafta hide your mans gats in your purse, and sometimes you’re gonna need to remind your girl that its probably not the best idea to tell her stylist, “you know what? i’m going to court today, and i wanna look a damn fool. can you make me look like a damn fool”

with this in mind, arguments will occasionally occur. armed with the knowledge that “he aint gonna hit me“, though, some women occasionally break the implied geneva relationship disagreement concordance, boldly crossing the line and committing war crimes by conveniently forgetting about the “untouchables”.

the 4 f’s of fair relationship fighting, each of these subjects have the power to irrevocably damage an otherwise happy coupling, and each need to be avoided at all costs, like e coli…

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…and women who remind you of her.

a) fists (since we’re not allowed to hit, any negative discourse about our fighting prowess should be off the table¹.)

b) family (we already know that one of our aunts looks like rick ross. no need for you to bring it up)

c) f*cking (nnte²)

d) funds (trust me.)

in keeping with vsb’s commitment to combat crime, i’ve decided to name two more damaging relationship mistakes women occasionally make.

being bob costas.

arguably the best play-by-play man in television history, costas combines a panoramic knowledge of sports with a keen eye for detail and extensive vocabulary, qualities ensuring that the viewers know exactly whats going on at all times. he misses nothing. no detail or occurrence is too minute or insignificant to share…a fact also making him the patron saint of annoying girlfriends.

while we understand that women generally need avenues to verbally emote, there’s a fine line between “fishing for innocent feedback” and “scooping the salon with every salacious relationship specific like sandra rose.

your moms doesn’t need to know about his strange weekend “dusk slobbers” and every minute disagreement you’ve ever had, and, if you actually want to keep your man from eventually f*cking one of your friends, your lonely ass girls don’t need to be briefed with every bottom-line banality of your bi-weekly bedroom back-breakings

you’re in a relationship with one person…not one-third of your blackberry’s address book, and every bit of publicly shared “tmi” slowly tears away from your foundation like club mist and cvs eyeliner

disturbing the peace

we lie.

daily.

hourly even. i will not deny this. sh*t, i’m texting a pseudo-lie to three separate people while i’m writing this sentence³.

despite these admittedly troubling facts, our white lies are our most chivalrous act, our way of protecting you all from windmills, waterfalls, white women, and our burgeoning p*rn addictions, and its a relationship death knell to worry yourself over every minor inconsistency. i mean, think about it: do you really want us to tell you the truth about everything?

everything?

do you really need to know that last weekend’s slightly sprained ankle came from stupidly walking into an in ground waterfall when double taking too long at a zoe saldana doppleganger downtown…and not from winning an impromptu dunk contest on a 8 foot rim at the park? is it really paramount for you to know that the missed call you “accidentally” noticed on his iphone last month is from his crazy-ass ex randomly drunk dialing him at 5pm…not his nephew?

nah. i didnt think so.

i could name a few dozen more, but i’m not contractually obligated to reveal anymore until the geneva relationship disagreement concordance is amended.

until then, any additions?

¹unless your name is “shad moss”
²”no need to expound”
³i’m lying

—the champ