I will wash my ass with this soap.

This ain’t funny so don’t you dare laugh, but some men just don’t understand some things that women do. I’m fairly sure I’ve written about this before. I’m also fairly sure that I can’t find the post where I may have done so. So I’m adding to it based on new convos with new ninjas. And this isn’t one of those #womenarecrazy tirades that us menfolks are becoming so famous for. Nope. This is more of a “y’all do this and I truly don’t get it” things. Generalization alert swag.

Generalize deez. Which I’m fairly sure is both a pun AND a possible title for the new movie coming out directed by Spike Lee and written by Tyler Perry and T.D. Jakes. That sh*t cray.

So, back to the lecture at hand. Over the course of my life, I’ve spent a significant amount of time around many many womens. From my various sisters (real spit, I’ve got a lot of sisters, we’re damn near Mormon), to the women I’ve dated, to the daughter that I’m raising that will grow into a woman, I’ve borne witness to many a thing that I just couldn’t quite make sense of. Some of those things that I couldn’t quite make sense of has gotten me in trouble since, well, if I don’t understand it, then I’m inclined not to respect is gangsta and either…you know what…let’s dive in.

LOUGANIS! <—-old school reference like a motherf*cker.

1. Decorative…anything

Pillows. Soap. Bathroom towels. I HATE decorative pillows. Actually, I hate EXCESSIVE amounts of decorative pillows. And it seems that you can only have excessive amounts of decorative pillows. Especially on beds. Why the f*ck does ANYBODY need 15 pillows on a bed. THAT NOBODY WILL SEE BECAUSE NOBODY IS ALLOWED IN THE GROWN FOLKS BEDROOM ANYWAY? Don’t even get me started on decorative soap. Actually, let’s start.

I will use your decorative soap. It’s almost my defiant rebellion against your damn soap that just wants to be used. It’s soap. It needs to be used in order to be validated as soap. If a stripper never claps her ass, is she a stripper? If soap never gets a sud, is it soap? I say no. It’s just a block of glycerin that’s getting laughed at by the Zest and other soaps in the bathroom. Same goes with your monogrammed decorative towels.

Moral of the story: don’t let me use the bathroom with the “nice” sh*t in it.

2. Poofs

I’m talking about those spa shower poof things. Full disclosure: I bought one because 1) a guy I fully respect has one and I figured that if its good enough for that ninja its good enough for me..respect; and 2) I wanted to see what the big deal was with a damn poof. Every woman has one. And I’ve realized that they make no functional sense.

WhatyoutalkinboutPanama?

Glad you asked.

Question: how does one wash their ass if all you use in the shower is your poof? You can’t tell me that you use the poof in your ass and then put it on your face the next go ’round? That’s why ninjas like me wash their washclothes daily. I stay with a stockpile of washclothes for this purpose. But explain to me the poof? I need to know.

I NEED TO KNOW!!

3. Lotion regimens

I’ve brought this up before and even wrote a whole post about it that I’m too lazy to go find, but what is the damn deal with so many lotions and sh*t. (I came in the door) I said it before that I use Palmer’s all day. And I’ve been told that its too heavy for summer time. Yet my skin roars baby. It glistens. And yes those last two sentences are likely 86% gay. But its true. Y’all skin ain’t that much different and the bottoms of many of y’allsis feet STILL could light matches. So what gives with the various regimens that don’t solve whatever problem you’re trying to solve.

I’m on my man sh*t. I need to unnadig.

4. Constant clothes jacking

I could write (and probably will) a whole post about the serious advantages to dating for women and this will make the list: whyfore come y’all STAY stealing our clothes? Look, I get it. You all want our tshirts. One? That makes sense. Two. Okay…you’re getting a little klepto on me but still, I can deal. But when you all clear out our undershirts and we have to go to buy 8-packs for 19.99 of tshirts JUST to have some to wear, well that’s going to f*cking far. What’s up with the outright disrespect for our need to have stuff like wifebeaters (though there ain’t a man alive that doesn’t like seeing a woman in a wifebeater) and tshirts? Why is it that the longer I know you, the less of these things that I have??? This has been consistent since I was 18. What gives womanthieves!?!?!??!?!?

So, ladies…I want answers. Fellas what else do you want to know? And ladies, any questions of us?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. DO YOU MIND IF I LOTION YOU UP? aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

"I'm smiling now, but if you bite my neck again, this'll be the last time we have pier sex"

One of the best (and worst) things about being an adult is the occasional realization that certain things you never wanted to believe to be true are, in fact, true. On a macro level, these realizations are good because they help you grow and see the world for what it truly is and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. But, however good this knowledge may ultimately be, it still stings a bit to learn that you believed some wrong-ass shit.

In the past few years or so I’ve had (at least) two such realizations. One was already touched on by Panama last week in “Is This What Growed Up Feels Like?” But, while P admitted feeling a little ashamed that he was a fan of such ignant rap, I feel no such shame. I’ve stopped trying to explain how the misogyny, nihilism, and overall misandry present in much of popular rap — even rap made by “conscious” artists — is just some sort of postmodern social commentary reflecting on the trails and tribulations of post-industrial inner city society and finally admitted to myself that I just happen to like some ignorant-ass, vulgar-ass, violent-ass music that’s ignorant, vulgar, and violent for no reason. I’m not sure what exactly that says about me, but it’s about time I stopped trying to believe that wasn’t true.

The second realization wasn’t as easy to accept. I was either at my friend’s aunt’s house or outside of a greyhound station bathroom (can’t remember which) when I first remember hearing that “a man should love his wife a bit more than she loves him.”  In both instances, I was too busy making sure no improbably fast six-legged creatures crawled on my chicken to pay much attention to the phrase.

As the years passed, I began to hear it more and more, but it was never actually said with any type of sane explanation. A girl I dated in college once told me that her mom told her never to like a boy more than the boy likes her. When she asked her why, she apparently mumbled, shook her head, and said “because you don’t want to end up with the gout and worms like your grandmother, that’s why.”

Explanation or not, that sentiment just never really sat right with me. A relationship idealist, I believed that the best partnerships were formed when both parties fell in love simultaneously and loved each other equally. Plus, as a young man doing whatever the f*ck I needed to do to stay the hell away from any burgeoning relationship with “friend’s zone” potential, the idea that I need to be more into a woman than she was into me was an affront to my pride and the complete antithesis of everything I “learned” from the baseheads selling jumper cables outside of my barber shop through experience.

I don’t know exactly when or where I started to accept this sentiment as truth, but I do know today that it is undeniably, unequivocally, and uncomfortably true. Thing is, while (many) men seem to reject this sentiment because it seems to balance the dating and relationship scale in the woman’s favor, it’s actually necessary because that part of the game is already balanced in our favor. Us falling first and harder doesn’t do anything but even things out.

To wit, I’m assuming most of the thousands of men who will visit this blog today have been in at least one good relationship, and possibly more. I’m also going to assume that, in at least 50 percent of these relationships, the guy eventually “won” the woman over by “growing on” her. Basically, he was really feeling her, she was “eh” about him at first, but he eventually managed to somehow convince her that he was worth being with/sleeping with/swallowing, etc.

Now, if I were to ask how many of these men ended up happy with a woman that they were “eh” about at first until she convinced him that she was worth being with, I doubt I’d get many replies. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t get any.

Because of certain sociological and biological factors largely out of our control, women aren’t really able to grow on men the same way we can grow on them, making it paramount that we (men) are the ones who show the most initial interest. Basically, while there’s a good chance that a good relationship can spring if a guy has grow on a chick, there’s absolutely no chance of it happening if the opposite occurs.

Also, another completely unscientific and unresearched theory to add to the rest of the completely unscientific and unresearched theories presented today is that men who aren’t head over hills about the woman they’re with are more likely to do things that “unsettled” men do — i.e., cheat, be non-committal, stay emotionally unavailable, etc.

Obviously, men in love do still do these things, but I just don’t think it happens as often as a man who doesn’t really feel like he put the time and effort into “winning” anybody. Just as women are more likely to value men who are wanted by other women but chose to pursue them, men are more likely to value the women they chose to attempt to win. It’s a truth I didn’t really want to admit, but I guess learning new shit is the best part about being a grown-up. (Actually, being able to drink moosetracks milkshakes for breakfast while sitting on your couch butt-naked and watching “Miller’s Crossing” without anyone saying a gotdamn thing is a pretty good part about being a grown-up, but that’s besides the point)

Anyway, people of VSB, do you think think it’s true that the best relationships happen when men fall in love a little harder and a little faster than the woman they’re with? (For some strange reason, I get the feeling that the responses will be split along gender lines. I may be wrong, though) 

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

The only NWA I can get with nowadays! Take that Dr. Dre!

Personal growth is a motherlover. Especially when you don’t see it coming. And in some ways it can make you ashamed of who you were just hours before. Or make you call into question decisions you made that led to you making it to the point where you could realize growth that you now have hours later that you didn’t have hours before you experienced said growth.

TCBY.

What am I talking about? Glad you asked.

The other day I was rollin’ in my ’64. Actually it’s an ’07 but who’s counting. Well except for me. Moving on. So I was rolling down the street smoking indo, sippin’ on gin and juice (none of that is true either). As of late my favorite thing to do is pick a Pandora station and kill the battery on my iPhone. Usually its set to either the Patrice Rushen station or the David Axelrod station. Well this fine day, I decided to roll down my windows and blast some of that good ole ignant music I love so much. So I punched in three letters that are world famous:

N.

W.

A.

One of my favorite albums of all time is EFIL4ZAGGIN. Dr. Dre was at his producerial essence on this album and despite its themes (put a pin in that, we’ll get back to this shortly) its a hip-hop masterpiece of beats, rhymes, and life and is sonic perfection. So anyway, I punch in NWA and Eazy E’s “Boyz N Tha Hood” comes on. Okay. Dopeboy anthems have always been one of my favorites and especially since I’m a West Coast music head, there wasn’t much better.

Then it happened.

“Just Don’t Bite It (She Swallowed It)” came on.

Oh. My. God.

Dude, this has to be at LEAST one of the 5 MOST ignorant songs in hip-hop history. Ever. Hell, so is “Automobile” off the same album. Actually so is “Find ‘em, F*ck ‘em, and Flee” on that same album. You know what, f*ck it, EFIL4ZAGGIN is one of the most ignorant pieces of art ever created and sold in commercial outlets. Like seriously…gotd*amn. As I listened to this song (and I know the words by heart) I almost felt ashamed of myself.

Actually, I did feel ashamed of myself. In that one song is rape, statutory rape, complete and utter disregard for women, rampant and blatant misogyny, etc etc etc. Honestly, I kind of wondered how ANYBODY could make a song like that and then say to themselves, “wow, this sh*t is dope.” Dumbfounded. I’m the blast my music loud type of mofo. I turned my stereo ALL the way down as I listened and thought about what I was listening to. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a father to a daughter now or what, but man…

…WHO DOES THAT???

Randomly: I’m not from the West Coast, but it seems like a common theme in nearly ALL early 90s West Coast hiphop involved running trains on women. Um, what the hell is wrong with ninjas in Cali??? Even Ice Cube, arguably the more sensible one of NWA, and the only one to give any of their music any type of substantive element was full of statutory rape and just outright violent disregard for women. I’m not gonna say that it was a West Coast thing, it has been a hip-hop thing, but the abject clarity spoken on those songs is almost disturbing at times.

And I realize that in the hood, things happen. A lot of women involved are willing participants. But who the hell commits sh*t like that to immortality via master recordings? I suppose the same goes with the violent, murder murder murder stuff too.

Obviously, this was is all very conflicting for me because I’m a hip-hop head to the heart. But some of that sh*t just crossed/crosses the line and I’m really curious as to how ANYBODY could make that music. Like, if I could interview MC Ren right now, I’d say, “Ren take me through your thought process when you wrote the lyrics for “Just Don’t Bite It 2 (She Swallowed It)”. Does any of it strike you as not right?”

I’m trying not to chastise my beloved hip-hop and it’s not like I’m going to stop listening to it, but listening to that song shamed the motherf*ck out of me because I couldn’t believe that I used to love it H.E.R. and also that somebody actually made that…somebody with a mama. Maybe this is what growing up starts to feel like. Maybe I already did seeing as how I haven’t listened to anything N.W.A. related in years at this point, partially for this reason and because I have a daughter that I have to raise to love herself.

But egads man…what a lesson. So I wonder, good folks out there, have you had any similar type of “aha” growth moment? If it involved NWA, you and me? We >< here.

Talk to me.

-VSB P aka PETEY WHEATSTRAW aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

"Why are you smiling?" "Just thinking about how lucky you are that I like your cologne."

I’m generally a fan of things Jason Segel has a hand in — “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” “Knocked Up,” etc — so it didn’t take much convincing for me to go see “The Five-Year Engagement” a few days ago. Without giving any spoilers, I’ll say that I enjoyed it but was somewhat disappointed by the fact that it started to veer into “Whoa. I’ve never seen this relationship situation really addressed in a movie before“ territory — which I greatly appreciated — but then got a bit more Hollywood towards the end.

Now, I understand why movies do tend to inch toward the “Hollywood relationship.” Although we bitch and clamor for realism, we still do generally want to be entertained and feel good at the end, and showing certain types of “real-life” relationships might cause people to enter the theater with buckets of hot buttered Zoloft instead of popcorn.

With this in mind, here are four types of real-life relationships you’ll probably never actually see in a movie

1. The man with the life-long side piece

In one of the most baffling types of real-life arrangements in existence, there are men who  have started and ended multiple relationships but managed to maintain the exact same side chick throughout each one. I guess it makes sense — comfort and consistency are, frankly, the shit — but if that isn’t the most ambitious-less, Everest College-ass relationship shit I’ve ever heard, I don’t know what is.

2. The f*ck buddies who don’t even really like f*cking each other

A couple years ago, a friend told me about an arrangement she had with a guy who’d come through once a week, have a couple glasses of moscato with her, and then would proceed to have terrible, awful, unbearably awkward sex with her. They both hated it — apparently he once fell asleep while she was on top of him, woke up, gave a couple more pumps, and fell back asleep — but this “relationship” continued for a couple months.

Thinking that this friend was an just a sad anomaly of coital despair, I told the story to another friend, who expressed that she also was in a similar arrangement — a full NBA season (seven months) of awful sex. When I asked her why she continued a friends with migrant worker benefits arrangement, she replied “I don’t know. I guess I just liked the way he smelled.”

3. The people only dating because…wait, why the hell are they dating again?

I was actually in a relationship like this a few years ago. We didn’t really like each other all that much, we both knew it wasn’t going to last longer than a year, and, well, did I mention the fact that we didn’t really like each other all that much?

I guess you can say that we stayed together because of the sex, but is it really worth staying in a relationship where both parties give each other a 5.5 to on the “10 point Like Scale” just because you’re sleeping with them four times a week?

It ended after exactly one year, which was maybe 11 months too long.

4. The people who’ve always pined for each other…but die without ever actually getting together

In the movies, these situations usually get resolved with some contrived-ass deferred meet cute that puts them in a situation where they have no choice but to realize that they need to be together.

In real life, though, sometimes these people continue to see each other in passing and at parties and continue to wonder and fantasize, but never actually hook-up — a situation as sad as the thought of Derrick Rose proctoring a PSAT. (Too soon?)

Anyway, people of VSB, can you think of any other types of relationships you’ll never see on screen? Also, if anyone out there has actually been in one of the type of relationships described today, come to #REMINISCEDC Saturday night and either I or Panama will give you a hug (if you’re a woman) or a shot (if you’re a man). Actually, f*ck it. Hugs and shots for everyone!

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

A couple weekends ago, I went out with a group of a dozen or so people to celebrate my homegirl’s birthday. And, as people in the greater Pittsburgh-area are wont to do after a night of drunken, WorldStarHipHop-worthy ratchetness, we went to Eat & Park afterwards to soak up our alcohol with pancakes and half-assed cheese eggs.

While most others usually opt for the menu food, I always choose to buy the breakfast buffet; a vast decrease in quality, but, when it’s 3:13am, quantity has a way of making you not give a f*ck.

There were so many of us there (I’m guessing 15) that the server put three tables together to accommodate all of us. And, since I was the only one who chose the buffet food, it meant…

A) I would be the only one eating food for the next 15 minutes.

B) I’d have to fight off a clawing pack of drunken and hungry zombies every time I returned to the table from the buffet.

The second part actually became a bit of a running joke. I’d go to the buffet, return with some bacon, and I’d have to smack the hands of my friends away as they tried to grab a slice. Sometimes I was successful in guarding my bacon, and sometimes the bacon zombies would get me. (I know this doesn’t sound like a very fun game to play, but we were all five exits past drunk, and the bacon game happened to be the funniest thing on Earth at the time. Only God can judge me.)

Anyway, although the table was filled with people who all were at the party I was just at, I didn’t know a couple of the people sitting at the other end of the table. I’m bringing this up because all the fun and games stopped when, while returning to the table after one of my bacon runs, one of these unfamiliar hands reached and attempted to grab the food on my plate.

When I made it back to my seat, I called this person out, asking what the f*ck was wrong with them (I think my exact words were “What the f*ck is wrong with you? I don’t know you, n*gga“), and basically put a slight damper on the mood.

(In hindsight, it was funny remembering the reactions of the people sitting around me, their expressions going from “Wait, Champ’s not serious, is he?” to “Um, yeah, he’s serious. This is getting uncomfortable. And entertaining. This is uncomfortably entertaining” and finally landing on “Wait, um, we’re not able to witness a couple dudes in suits fight over some bacon, are we?“)

I eventually forgave this person for their indiscretion. (We actually stood up and shook each other’s hands) The next day, as I was reflecting on the evening and remembering exactly how ridiculous that near fight was, it dawned on me that none of that would have happened if he was a woman.

You see, I was perfectly cool playing the bacon game with the people sitting close to me — all women that I knew. In fact, even if dude had been a woman I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have reacted the same way. I probably would have laughed, flirted, or perhaps even tried to steal some food off her plate when it finally came. But, because he was a guy doing something that guys aren’t supposed to do to other guys, it pissed me off enough to have the following absurd exchange with him

“Where are you from?” 

“Don’t worry about where I’m from. I’m from a place where n*ggas don’t take food off of n*ggas they don’t know plates.” 

(I apparently say n*gga a lot when I’m drunk and/or angry. Perhaps there’s another post in there somewhere)

If you’re still reading, you’re probably wondering what the hell a story about two drunk men having a pissing contest over some soggy bacon has to do with feminism, a concept defined as a collection of movements aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal political, economic, and social rights for women.

Actually, that definition is a bit too bulky to work with. I prefer the one coined by Cheris Kramarae

“Feminism is the radical notion that women are human beings.”

Regardless of how you choose to define it, feminism has some roots in the idea that (most) men, even (most) well-intentioned men, don’t regard women with the same respect we do other men.

Thing is, as shitty as men historically have been and currently still are to women, we are pretty much just as shitty (if not shittier) to men.

As history continues to prove, men will regularly intimidate, embarrass, ridicule, mock, taunt, dominate, and even sexually humiliate other men if given the opportunity.

Think about this: Wherever you’re currently reading this, you’re at a place that was “founded” some time ago as a result of a group of men invading the land of a weaker group of men and subsequently murdering and colonizing them.

Even many “educated” and “domesticated” men still regularly do this in their own way. For instance, as ridiculous as that bacon story sounded, most men reading it probably laughed at first and then thought to themselves “You know what? I probably would have reacted the same way The Champ did.” 

Why? Well, although it may have seemed innocent, that guy reaching on my plate was his way of attempting to assert some dominance over me. His fat ass didn’t want any bacon, but he did want everyone to see him taking a slice of bacon off my plate — alpha male-ing me, in a sense.

I (over) reacted the way I did because, frankly, I wanted him to be scared. Not pissing in his pants scared, but “Hmm. This guy’s tone and body language suggests that there’s a possibility that he might actually get up and punch me in the face. It’s a slight chance, but still. Perhaps I should apologize to him.” scared.

Most people would probably consider bacon boy’s act a violation of some “man code” or some other unspoken kinship between men. While this is true, the creation of “man codes” aren’t really about any male kinship or spiritual brotherhoods or anything like that. We have these rules of decorum when dealing with each other because of fear of possible physical danger, and we treat each other with this tenuous respect because there’s always the possibility that we might get our ass kicked if we don’t.

Now, I’m (obviously) no feminist scholar, but it seems like the root cause behind man’s historically unjust treatment of women has something to do with the control and suppression of female sexuality and sexual freedom. It also seems like the only reason why (many) men are “nicer” to women than they are to other men is because they want sexual access to them, and getting women to agree to want to be with you is the socially acceptable way of gaining this access.

I don’t want to believe that the only things motivating us to be kind to each other are fear and sex, but history and any read of any newspaper continues to prove that this may be true. Am I completely off-base here, or are we (men) too f*cked up to evolve to a point where the majority of things the majority of men do are done, not because we can do them or can get away with doing them, but because they’re just the right and just things to do?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Pic only chosen because I thought it was funny that this image was the first thing to pop up when googling "single black man"

While most will probably remember 2012 as the “Year Of The YOLO” (and by “most” I mean “like seven people“), it holds special significance for me because it’ll likely be the first year since 2002 where I spent the entire year single. I haven’t completed a full calender year yet — May will make it seven months since the former Lady Champ and I decided to go our separate ways — but because I seem to enjoy doing random anthropological experiments on myself for absolutely no reason (and because I’m an INTJ and INTJs apparently suck at relationships), I’m confident that I’ll make it to 2013 without having to change my Facebook relationship status again.

Anyway, if I could sum up my seven months of singledom in one word, it would most likely be “interesting.” I’ve met some “interesting” people, done some “interesting” things, made some “interesting” decisions, and, most importantly, thought some “interesting” thoughts. The most “interesting” of these “interesting” thoughts? Being a single man is kind of overrated.

Now, as I stated on the day where I wrote about orgasms, “overrated” doesn’t mean “bad.” In fact, as the careers of Tupac and Derrick Rose continue to prove, something can be very, very good — even great — and still be overrated. I’ve enjoyed being single, and will likely continue to enjoy it. But, while it seems like many assume that being a single man (a single Black man, at that) is nothing but an utopic stream of easy popsicles, cold pancakes, and syrupy p*ssy, there are a few downsides.

1. It can be very lonely

As a person who wanted to be single, is a natural introvert, and generally enjoys doing things by himself, I’m surprised by how, for lack of a better term, “noticeable” the solitude and loneliness of singledom can be. Even when seeing multiple people and/or having tons of friends, being single means that you are…single, by yourself, and there may be times when you want to have someone around but there will be no one that you want to be around readily available to be around.

Then, to add insult to injury, if you’re an angsty motherf*cker like me, you’ll start thinking things like “Wait. I’m a single man. A single Black man. My dad named me after Dolemite. Shaka Zulu is my second cousin. People who’ve never even met me call me “Champ” for chrissakes. Why the f*ck do I feel lonely right now?” which’ll make it even worse.

2. You have to wear condoms. And, wearing condoms sucks

If you’re one of the 137 people left on Earth who always has protected sex — even if in a long-term, monogamous relationship — just skip this section and move on to #3. Also, I’ve left a plate of gotdamn sugar cookies at the end of this post as a reward for your duty. Please eat them with a gotdamn smile.

If you’re not one of these people, you should be able to relate to how frustrating it’s been to go from condom-less sex to having to worry about having gotdamn condoms all the damn time. And, even if you’re not actively having sex, “Do I have condoms?” and “Since I don’t have condoms, is there somewhere close where I can buy them?” always has to be on your mind.

Also, from a logistical perspective, they’re a hassle to put on, they smell like a pack of slutty balloons, and “sex with condoms” will always be the Mike Conley of coitus.

There is always the alternative — just don’t wear condoms while single, either — but I think one Cromartie per generation is enough.

(Btw, is it just me, or has the price of condoms spiked dramatically in the past four years? I was last single in 2008, and I don’t remember a box of condoms costing as much as it does to fill a gas tank. Does this qualify as a “first world problem?” If a Black blogger bitches about condoms in the woods, would Kanye’s missing draws make a sound?) 

As much as condoms suck, they don’t suck as much as…

3. Having to participate in the dating game

In a paradox so annoying that I almost didn’t mention it today because I plan on spending an entire day on this sole topic soon, I love meeting new, interesting women but I hate the process that usually goes along with meeting new, interesting women.

I understand (and appreciate) the purpose of the process, but knowing why it’s necessary doesn’t mean that you have to enjoy it.

4. The superficial romantic connections synonymous with singledom gets old

Ironically, the best thing about being a single man — possessing the ability to have myriad short, commitment-free relationships AT THE SAME DAMN TIME!!! — ends up being one of the worst after enough time has passed.

This actually hasn’t happened to me yet. I guess I’m still in the single honeymoon phrase. But, I’m certain it will, and the thought of this happening is already depressing me.

Actually, this entire list is getting depressing. ***Making note to self to make sure tomorrow’s post is about the playoffs or strippers or something***

5. You start to realize some, um, “unpositive” things about yourself

I’ve been in three long-term — “long term” = “monogamous relationship lasting at least a year” — relationships as an adult. Each of these relationships failed, and my wanting to be single was the main catalyst behind each of these failures. Now, because I’ve always been a guy who did all the “right on paper” relationship things — I’ve never cheated, never physically or verbally abused any girlfriends, always followed the chivalry handbooks, etc — I’ve always assumed that I’m good at being a partner. But, these last few months have made me realize that I have some real deficiencies in the relationship department — personality quirks that have subtly sabotaged each relationship I’ve been in.

I wouldn’t quite call myself a trojan horse — the sabotage isn’t intentional (at least it’s not consciously intentional) — but I’m just not very good at this relationship thing right now, and I intend to spend the rest of 2012 trying to figure out why.

That’s it for me today. Fellas — single or coupled up — how do you feel about the concept of singledom? Is it all the beer commercials make it out to be, or do you agree that it may be slightly overrated? Also, ladies, are the “single man problems” expressed today at all similar to any “single woman problems?”

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

"Thanks Dad for the advice and for dressing us alike in this picture!"

In the comments of yesterday’s post, numerous people brought up the fact that the advice I’d give to a teenage son had a bit of a different feel than the advice I’d give to a teenager daughter. Paraphrasing, while the daughter-centric advice was “protective, thoughtful, and caring,” the son-centric advice came off as “harsh, snarky, asshole-ly, and cynical.”

I responded to a few of those comments to explain why the son’s advice and the daughter’s advice may have seemed contradictory, but I felt like I needed to say a bit more. Today is “a bit more.”

Both lists were coming from the same place — a father’s want for his children to have the best, happiest, and most fulfilling lives possible. But, since males and females are (obviously) very different — different motivations, different fears, different expectations — the advice did need to be different. For instance, the very first thing I told the son — he should try to wait until he’s in his early 30′s before getting married and starting a family — is, for various biological and sociological realities, absolutely awful advice to give to a young woman. This isn’t to say that young women can’t be successful if they followed that same path, but they’d have a much less likely chance of that happening than a guy would.

Anyway, realizing these differences, the advice I gave my daughter was a bit more protective and concerned with minimizing risk. Why? Certain “mistakes” such as having a baby at a young age or staying in a bad relationship far too long — things that aren’t “mistakes” per se, but will be interpreted as such — are generally more damaging for a woman than they would be for a man.

Is this fair? No. But, the fact remains that young women just aren’t able to get away with many of the things that young men are able to, and as a father it would be irresponsible not to recognize that reality. In my opinion, teaching a daughter how to spot and avoid bad situations is the best dating/relationship/man advice any father can give her.

I want both “team daughter” and “team son” to win the game. But, while “team son” needs to play to win, “team daughter” would be best served playing not to lose. The fact that women have certain “advantages” over men (and by “certain advantages over men”  means “pretty much everything men do is specifically structured around getting access to them“) means that “team daughter” starts the game with a 30 point lead, and “not doing anything stupid or reckless to give up that lead” gives them the best chance at winning.

Team son, on the other hand, will need a deep playbook, a reliable substitution pattern, an advanced scouting report, an offensive and defensive coordinator, and some favorable refs to have a shot at winning. Basically, while team daughter can be the 1996 Chicago Bulls — a team that, since they had the two best players in the league (as well as the best coach, best rebounder, best defense, etc), basically won games by just showing up at the gym — team son needs to be the 2008 Boston Celtics — a bunch of grimy, shit-talking, cheating, crafty, and resilient motherf*ckers to be competitive

Fair? No. But again, this is a reality, and (IMO) parents should prepare their children for the world that is, not the world they wished existed.

Last thing. I want to make clear that this was the advice I’d give to my children, not what I think every parent should tell their sons and daughters. It’s not meant to be universal, easily palatable, or politically correct, and it’s based on what I — as a man who’s had very specific experiences in his three decades on Earth so far — think would be the best way for them to navigate the dating and relationship world.

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”) 

"Son, I just wanted to show you first hand that there are, in fact, other fish in the sea. Hopefully my ridiculous jeans don't distract you from that point.."

The last couple days of VSB — writing a “fatherly advice” piece for my teenager daughter, and following it up with something for a son the next day — was a plan I’ve had in mind for a while. I thought they’d be pretty well-received and relatively easy to write, and it’s a topic everyone — parent or not — could relate to in some way.

Anyway, with this in mind, I sat down yesterday afternoon ready to write the post about the son, expecting it to be as “easy” as the daughter piece was, but something unexpected happened: It dawned on me that there were actually two completely different sets of dating and relationship tips I could give him:

A) 10 Things I’d Tell My Teenage Son About Women, Dating, Relationships, And Sex If I Want Him To Be Thought Of As A “Nice” Guy, and…

B) 10 Things I’d Tell My Teenage Son About Women, Dating, Relationships, And Sex…If I Want Him To Actually Be Happy

Now, I don’t mean to suggest that you can’t be a nice guy and completely happy at the same time. It’s possible and shit. And, for the sake of the entire community, it’s probably the best way to go. I imagine that cities like Portland and Charlotte are full of happy nice guys, and, if I had a G-IV, I’d definitely fly there whenever I wanted to hit an organic farmer’s market

But, giving my son the same type of “look out for your own self-interests first” type of advice I gave my daughter yesterday — which is what I’m about to do — creates a guy that, while he can still very well be a “good” guy, fathers would probably advise their daughters to avoid. ”Woman dating with her best interests in mind” seems to = “empowered” while “man dating with his best interests in mind” seems to = “asshole.”

Oh well.

1. Do not even entertain the thought of being married or having children until you’re (at least) 34 years old. 

Now, I realize this doesn’t seem like ground-breaking advice. You’ve probably heard the same thing from your mother. But, what makes what I’m saying different is that while your mom wants you to wait until you’re fully mature and ready to be a husband and father and blah, blah, blah, I’m advising you to wait for one reason: Options.

Why 34? If you take advantage of the great genes your mother and I passed on to you and live the life you’re supposed to, by the time you reach that age, you’ll be successful enough to have some sort of social and/or financial status. And, if you take care of your body, you’ll still be youthful enough to really enjoy it. If you accomplish these things, you will have a better and more attractive range of romantic options than you will at any other point in your life. Asking you to wait until then to choose a life partner is me just wanting you to make the most informed choice possible. You don’t want to be the guy who puts all his chips in too early and then gets all unsettled and unhappy when realizing he could have gotten a better deal if he just waited.

I know you like sneakers, so think of it this way. Why shop at Foot Locker when you can drive a few more miles and hit the Nike Outlet instead?

2. The best, and most consistent way to get women to want to sleep and/or be with you? Act like you don’t really care about whether you’re able to sleep and/or be with them.

This may be the most difficult thing on the list to grasp. Even grown men aware of this truth have trouble pulling it off, as doing this is the equivalent of taking a starving man to the Cheesecake Factory and asking him to act like he’s not hungry.

But, as history has proven time and time again, your success with women is usually directly correlated to how unfazed you are by them. Also, the more beautiful the woman, the more you should probably act as if you barely even notice her beauty.

3. During high school or college, there’s a chance you might be attracted to a woman who attempts to coerce you into doing “boyfriend” duties (hanging out, being a confidant, eating salads with her and shit, etc) without any actual boyfriend pluses (sex). Do not fall for this trick.

You may be tempted to think that just hanging around and being the friend will assist you in finally getting some. It will not. The longer you stay around and continue to volunteer to take her panties to the laundromat, the less likely she’ll consider you to be a romantic option.

If you’re not careful, it may even get to the point to where she’ll complain to you about her man problems — in graphic detail, no less — despite the fact that she knows you’ve been pining away like a…pining-ass motherf*cker. If this happens, dead all contact with her, and  also make sure to steal all of her remote controls.

4. First dates should always be fun. And cheap.

This is your opportunity to set the tempo for the entire relationship. It’s also your chance to vet and see if she’s the type of asshole who needs a $90 steak in front of her to have “fun.”

5. There are thousands of reasons why you should always practice safe sex, and I’m sure you’ve heard each of them before. Here’s one I’m pretty sure you haven’t: Playing the pull out game always makes you feel like an idiot.

I’m not going to lie to you. Unprotected sex does feel indescribably better than wearing a condom. No sense in bullshitting you about that. But, the jump in feeling pales in comparison to the prolonged awkwardness you’ll feel when going raw, pulling out at the last moment, wondering if you pulled out in time, wondering how the hell you managed to cum on her knee, pausing this intimate moment to perform post-coital clean up, wondering if you pulled out in time (again), getting back in bed after the clean up and finding out the hard way that you didn’t do a very thorough clean up job, and feeling bad because you’ll start asking yourself if you’re too damn old to playing the gotdamn pull-out game.

6. Only sleep with women who have something to lose.

Hoodrats and hoochies can (definitely) be sexy, but 5 to 25 minutes of pleasure isn’t worth the considerable potential downside if things go down hill. Basically, never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever have casual sex with a woman who’d consider it the best day of her life (and the lives of everyone in her family, including her son) if you happened to get her pregnant.

7. The grass is never greener.

Although all women have their own personal quirks and idiosyncrasies to go along with some physical differences, there isn’t much variance about what makes them them. Seriously, if you took 100 random men from Jakarta and 100 random guys from Jacksonville and asked them to list the 10 things that most annoy them about their wives, the lists would look exactly the same.

I’m bringing this up because there may be a point in one of your relationships where you experience a bit of malaise and start fantasizing about how things would be with someone else. When this happens, remember that a relationship with whoever you’re fantasizing about will eventually reach the malaise stage too.

This leaves you with two options

A) End relationships as soon as they leave the honeymoon stage (not the best option)

B) Make sure you commit to the right person so that your love for and attraction to her will help you deal with the inevitable “meh” period (the best option)

8. Smell good.

I didn’t pay much attention in the anatomy and physiology course I took my freshman year in high school, and the way women respond to a guy who smells good definitely makes me think that I must have fallen asleep on the day they explained that a woman’s nose is directly connected to her vagina.

9. It may not seem this way when it happens, but breaking up with a woman can be one of the kindest things you can do as an adult

Look, while we can dick around until we’re in our 40′s and still end up finding a wife and building a family, (generally speaking) women just don’t have that same luxury. If you’re in a situation where you know things probably aren’t going any further and she’s at an age where she’s expecting them to, end it. Shit, even if it’s a good relationship, end it.

You’ll both feel like shit for a while, but you both will eventually get over it and realize it was in both of your best interests.

10. From now until the day you die, your penis will be fighting a never-ending battle with your brain to see who will lord over your body, your decision making, your choices, and your future. You cannot let your penis win, but you also cannot let anyone shame you into feeling bad for being a man. 

This will not be an easy task. Your penis is tricky, dastardly, diabolical, deceiving, deceptive, and indefatigable. Basically, you know how Dick Cheney kind of looks like a penis? Well, imagine that your dick is Dick.

Thing is — and this is very important to note — I’m not asking you to suppress or ignore your sexual urges. They are not bad. In fact, they are very good. Just don’t be the guy who allows those urges to completely dominate everything he does.

That’s enough for me today. Did I forget anything? Also, people of VSB.com, what advice would you give to your teenage sons?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Repeat after me honey "If he doesn't pay for dinner, that n*gga aint a winner"

You know, I’m not a dad yet, but I might be one day. If this day comes, there’s a 50/50 chance that my child will be a daughter, and I will do everything in my power to protect, love, and educate this girl. But, if she decides to cite a hug I didn’t give her in 2018 as the reason why she can’t find love in 2038, I’ll have one message for her: F*ck you

 

This disturbingly candid (or, would “candidly disturbing” work better?) example of the type of parent I’m probably going to be is the last paragraph of “Why “Daddy Issues” Don’t Really Exist” — an old entry where I argue that if every strange thing a woman does can be explained away with “daddy issues,” then perhaps they don’t exist. And, while “please don’t blame a hug you didn’t get in 2018 for your relationship issues in 2038” is definitely sage advice, I don’t think that’s quite enough.

Today, I’ve decided to share nine more bits of fatherly advice I’d give my (non-existent) teenager daughter if she actually decides to exist one day

2. Just assume that every man you meet from now until you’re, I don’t know, 53(?) would sleep with you if given the opportunity

This doesn’t mean that every man you meet is going to try to. This also doesn’t mean that sleeping with you is all any man is ever going to want from you. There will be men who’d give their left testicle just for five minutes of your time. Men who’d build a bridge across Lake Michigan if that’s what it took to you see you. Men who will want to debate you, make fun of you, hear your opinions about “Amistad” and Meek Mill, build houses for you, sit in silence with you, lay next to you, travel with you, learn from you, teach you, learn about you, take you to IKEA, and grow old with you. But, the man wanting to sleep with you is the foundation for all of that, and you’d be wise never to forget that.

Shit, as much as I love your mother, you wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t want to tear her clothes off the first time I saw her at the Ole Country Buffet hovering over a plate of steamed broccoli while her thong was peaking out ever so slightly from her two toned silver vintage stretch pants church.

3. When in doubt, break up

Relationship drama is for grown ups. And by “grown-ups” I mean “old motherf*ckers.” If you’re 23 years old, and you and your boyfriend are going through some serious adversity, break the f*ck up with him. No need to be “working through” anything if you’re still not even old enough to serve in the House of Representatives.

I know this seems cold, but your youth should be the time when you’re having as much fun as you possibly can, not losing sleep because some janky negro with lint on his lips is going through some depression and you don’t know how to help him. You really want to know the best way to get through to him? Say “deuces” and let him figure that shit out for himself while you’re at Outback Steakhouse with that cute guy you met at the swap meet last weekend.

4. Learn how to ***insert word that rhymes with “pastorgate”***

I’m telling you this now because you’ll likely be a much happier person if you’re able to, um, “make yourself happy” without the assistance of others. If you need more details, you should probably go ask your mom. Or one of your white classmates.

5. Eat your vegetables

I hate (most) vegetables, but your mom seems to love them. Since your mom is banging — and since banging women have (somewhat) easier lives — I’d suggest you start emulating her. Eat your veggies and shit.

6. When in dating doubt, always err on the side of making things harder for the guy

He needs to convince you that he’s worthy of being in your life, not the other way around.

7. When in relationship doubt, err on the side of making things easier

You have carte blanche to be a bit of an asshole while you’re single and dating. In fact, I encourage it. Once a guy has proven himself worthy and ‘won” you, though, you can start buying him gum and shit.

8. I know I’m your father and you love me and shit, but don’t try to date men like me

I’m an awkward asshole who only tricked your mother into marrying me because I told her the Sultan of Brunei is my second cousin on my dad’s side. Your best strategy would be to avoid all assholes, awkward and, um, unawkward, regardless of how attractive and “unique” they seem to be. You can usually easily spot them, too. They’re the ones who intrigue you and make you feel a little tingly because they literally do not give a f*ck about you or anything you do.

I actually don’t expect you to follow this advice, but if you did it would save you a shitload of unnecessary heartache.

9. Throughout life, you’re going to meet women who say things like “I never really got along with other women.” Avoid these women the same way Antonio Cromartie avoids condoms. 

10. Throughout life, you’re going to meet men who say things like “I’m not like every other guy.” If you happen across a man like this, kick him in the nuts. 

If he screams, he’s exactly like every other guy. If he doesn’t, he’s obviously a eunuch, and might actually be telling the truth.

That’s enough for me today. Did I forget anything? Also, people of VSB.com, what advice would you give to your teenage daughters?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

Y’all gon’ have to forgive me, because today I just feel like sharing.

I remember when my life changed.

I don’t know if everybody experiences life changing moments or goes through events that cause them to really consider life and all of its possibilities or not, but it happened to me.

The problem for me is that the very experience that changed my life is one where somebody else’s life came to an end. And that is something I’ve been dealing with for 12 years now. I only have one real regret in life. But over time, I realize that had I done something different that night, and thereby erasing my regret, I might have ended the lives of two other people. Not just the one person who’s life did end that night.

April is the birthday month of my cousin. Or would be if he was still alive. April 21. It’s a day that for years has pained me, since for the past 12 years, I’ve never been able to get to Atlanta to celebrate his birthday with my family. Every time I do make it back to Atlanta, one of the first stops I always make is to the cemetery to visit the grave of my cousin, and now my grandmother as well, who is buried right next to him. Just as God intended them to be.

One night, in July 2000, my younger cousin and I went to the movies. We saw Scary Movie . I don’t even remember if it was funny or not. I do remember a conversation my cousin and I had about religion and our upbrining in the church and how we felt at the time. I was 21 and she was 19. The movie was over at about 1135pm. We lived on the Westside of Atlanta, Adamsville to be exact, and we were at Magic Johnson’s in Greenbriar. It takes about 10 minutes to get from Greenbriar to my grandmother’s house. We got there are about 1147pm.

My grandmother’s house has a split driveway. You can either pull into the left side or the right side. I pulled into the right side. Parked. And walked into the basement door. As I was walking in, my cousin, T, was walking out. He would go to our grandmother’s house every day at least once to check on his mother and my grandmother, who would cook dinner for him everyday. You get things like that when you are grandma’s right-hand man. I hadn’t seen him in about a week, maybe. Which wasn’t normal. Not that anything was up, he would either stop by my spot to see me or we’d meet up at my grandmother’s house to say what’s up a few times a week. We have a pretty tightknit family like that.

T: What’s up folk, I ain’t seen you like a week, cuz. What’s up, you ain’t got love for your cuz no more?

Me: What’s up T, you know good and well I love you man. I’ll give you a call in a day or two.

*dapping up in black man handshake hug*

T: Alright, folk. I’ll holla at you later. Bye momma…

He walked outside.

I started to walk towards the stairs. At this point there is about 10 feet between us. He’s outside, I’m inside.

My other cousin, who is his little sister, is between the two of us. And then it happened. He yelled, “don’t hit me folk!!!”

He was gone.

1148pm.

Shot once in the heart. Died instantly.

I honestly never heard the gunshot. And to this day that bothers me. Everybody else heard it but I didn’t hear it so for a second I was confused at what I was seeing. I didn’t see anybody else’s face. I just saw T laid out on the ground, his car door open…

A total of 30 seconds at most passed between the time I got to the driveway and he was killed. At my grandmother’s house.

Which means that whoever did it, was there when I pulled up and must have been hiding in the shadows of my grandmother’s carport, which is literally right next to the door we walked into.

Do you remember the scene in Menace II Society where Stacey is trying to revive Kaine after he was shot? That was us. We were shaking him and trying to wake him up, refusing to believe he was gone. Little did we know he was already dead. One of the paramedics told me that later that he died instantly. At least there wasn’t any pain. I had to make all of the phone calls to the family because I was the only person who could hold the phone. There were four other people in the house when it happened. My aunt (his mother), my grandmother, and his two sisters, one of which went to the movies with me. One of his sisters ran into the street and collapsed. His mother lost it as well. My grandmother and other cousin, both of who have the strongest relationships with God of anybody I’ve ever met, both cried, and then prayed.

It took about 10 minutes for it to dawn on me.

The person who killed my cousin had every opportunity to kill me. He had to have seen my face and my other cousin’s as well. For all we knew, he KNEW us. I was afraid to go to my grandmother’s house, or anywhere else for that matter for a week.

I could have died that night. Had I made the decision that would have erased my regret, and parked on the other side of the driveway, I would have seen him, and he might have killed me and my cousin in order to get away. He was clearly going to kill somebody that night. He came there to complete a job. He succeeded.

And that changed my life. I don’t really remember my demeanor before it all happened. I know I was still a happy person and that I wasn’t very negative in nature. But now…

…it’s hard for me to get upset or really depressed. I have my moments like everybody else. But losing my cousin like that, and being so close to the situation and realizing it could have been me, well, everyday I’m alive I’m happy to be here. I have quite a few friends who have asked me how I seem to be so happy or jovial so often and why not much gets me down. I nearly always respond: because I’m alive. Life has been good to me. And it took that day to make me realize just how lucky I am.

My family was scared for me for quite a few days. My father in particular. I was leaving for a summer program in DC a week later so it was a very tense week in my neighborhood for me. I was scared. But somehow, I was just thankful to be alive. I feel that way lots of times. I have a weird peace in my life nowadays. Some things suck, but it takes me very little time to get over certain stuff. I realized how much I love and value my family.

I love life and living. I appreciate every day that I get. Even the people that drive me crazy are appreciated. Not being afraid to live is one of the best feelings ever. Sure I slack at times, but I know that life is grand and that my cousin is looking down on us while he and my grandmother play backgammon in heaven, something I could never play on Earth.

For a good year, I got really nervous at my grandmother’s house. Even today, every time I walk by the spot it happened, I have to look over and stare for a while. I can’t get the vivid imagery out of my head, and I’m not sure I ever will. It’s part of me now.

I miss my cousin a lot. At least I got a chance to tell him that I loved him. Anytime we have a family function, everybody always makes sure to mention T and make sure we remember him. And because my family is tres ghetto, somebody always shows up with their RIP t-shirt. I myself have two of them.

So every April 21, on his birthday, I make sure to give thanks for his life and remember his death. My life is what it is now because of him.

Always missed, always loved. When they reminisce over you…

One thing that experience taught me is that we’ve all got stories. And that you’d be amazed what people have been through if you just listen. If you’ve got something to share, feel free. If not, that’s all good.

I know it’s heavy for a Friday, but I’ve been hesitant to write about this for years on this site. And today I felt like sharing.

Welcome to Panama’s City.

-VSB P

 PS: For your reading pleasure, check out Champ’s latest article at Ebony, “5 Reasons Kim and Kanye are a Match Made in Heaven”. And for those looking for more philosophical fodder, check out Panama’s latest at Guyspeak, “What’s Worse: The Pr0n Star or The Ex?”