Today’s Word is… STANDARDS

[Editors Note: Issa throwback…well, with a director’s cut.]


Attractive. Educated. Independent. Sweet. Confident. Compassionate.
(I just described most of my exes. Hell, I just described me.) 

Minimal baggage. Career. Non smoker. Social or not Drinker. Been in long term relationship. Classy.
(Still got most of my exes, a few eliminated, i’m still there)

Knows how to cook. Hair stays done. Always groomed. Puts it down in the sheets. Sense of style.  Body’s stacked.
(Still got some of my exes…no self respecting man will call themselves stacked, that’s where I bow out.)

5’9 and under. In shape.  Knows how to defer to a man. No trust issues. Diversified interests. Mentally stimulating. Great chemistry.
(I’m hearing chatter…now who do I think I am, what am I bringing to the table)

Low maintenance. Good with hanging out at home. Understands discretion.  Can make lasagna. Open minded in the bedroom. Wants kids. Fiscally responsible.
(This negreaux think he Idris or something…)

Standards are funny, as are the people love/hate them. No one ever has issue with standards unless it inconveniences them.  I don’t care that if you’re only chasing 6’4 lightskinned dudes you’re going to miss out on great guys, I care that I’m not 6’4 or lightskinned and I will never be, therefore I’m not invited to that table.  I didn’t want to sit there but now that I can’t, suddenly I want to sit there?  For who, for what? My list was very p.c, however if I got my mac on (You ever read something you wrote years ago and roll your eyes at how lame you were…this was one of those times) and said I want an exotic chick, hourglass figure, all natural…sistas would come for my head.  Reason #1, they’ll be damned if I don’t want them even if they don’t want me cuz…principality. Reason #2, who the hell am I to have such strong demands.

As you get older, and still single suddenly your standards are too blame.  The Beast could’ve let Belle just go have brunch with her girls and they would’ve told her that he’s tall AND has a whole castle, dont. block. ya. blessings. and she’d probably go right back.  Men don’t get it nearly as hard, I can probably hand wring myself to loneliness until at least 33.  Men aren’t told they are being unreasonable, or they are expecting perfection even when they are.  I have a homeboy who for the most part splurges on instajawns and to my knowledge never had an actual girlfriend.  I’m sure his mama might ask, but no one else cares.

Your standards represent you, your priorities, your traits, your aspirations.  It shows if you’re looking to just be treated good, f cked right, or want an actual relationship.  It shows your self confidence and what you believe you bring to the table.  Women say that men are constantly pestering them to lower their standards to accommodate them; I’m actually the opposite, show me you demand all that.  This goes both ways, you can’t be all over the club scene and social media and then demand someone who isn’t all over the club scene and social media.  You can’t demand a woman who’s cultured when all you watch is sports and action movies.  You can’t demand a man with his own place and a car when you staying at a homegirl’s and working part time.  I mean you can demand but spoiler alert, it won’t work out well for you.  Those independent, ambitious people you seek…well, they want other independent ambitious people.
There has to be some accountability for who you choose to let into your life, who you expect to come into your life and how they’re treated when they’re there.  The time spent on people who aren’t on “your level” adds up. It’s a lesson I’m still learning, my phone just full of women who I know weren’t what I was looking for, but #Ihaveneeds.  I can’t be taken seriously if I’m not taking my own standards seriously.  I know what I want and I’m not settling for less (maybe a few things, the lasagna game is non negotiable tho), in the meantime I #minuswhale use my time as productively as possible so I become the offer she can’t refuse.
-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… SPAM

WHERE. IS. THE. FOUL?!?!


June 6, 1999.  The day I won’t forget (okay I googled it but still).  It was the Indiana Pacers versus the New York Knicks.  My mother, an Indiana native loved her Pacers, so in turn I loved them too like you would that cousin who is a little too old to be hanging with you but y’all still had to kick it when they came over. So the game is going to the wire, my mother is stressed, about a bunch of more important things, but this game wasnt helping.  I really wanted her to have this one, just for a night.  So, I prayed for the Pacers to pull it out.  Then the improbable happened…Larry Johnson, forward for the Knicks, goes up for the 3, drains it and gets called for the foul. (Ain’t no one even touch his ass) A four point play, the Knicks would win.  It was like God himself was like, “stop playing on my phone, B”.  I haven’t rooted for the Pacers since, even when they went the Finals that next year. (Sorry Ma).  
At that tender age of 9, I learned don’t be out here praying for silliness. (I’ve also spoken on my struggles with prayer more earnestly here).  Many people never got that lesson, every tense sporting event you see fans praying in the stands, for the result of a game that has little to no effect on their lives, except maybe that dude with the gambing addiction who probably bet his mortgage on the game…really sucks to be that guy.  However, even for him his prayers are probably going unanswered. Why? Because our God has other things to do, sports fan prayers are definitely going in His spam folder.  I would say His spam folder consists of:

– Aforementioned sports fans prayers

– R Kelly’s “U Saved Me” album

– Anything from Eddie Long (What, too soon?) or molester catholic priests

– Prayer for something bad to befall someone (besides, that’s what karma is for)

– His name said in vain during the throws of passion

– That time OJ Simpson thanked God like he didn’t kill 2 people

– Prayers for your cousin to get out of jail like he didn’t kill 2 people

– Prayers for something to happen to the teacher because your behind ain’t study

–  Prayers the test is negative even though you know she wasn’t cheating

– Writing “amen” on some Facebook post even though you have no idea if it’s true or not

– Prayers for Creflo Dollar to get his jet

–  Grace said with a mouth full of food (yeah I said it)

– This.

Prayer warrior gon’ pray


– Prayer for someone’s wickedness when everyone knows you just being shady, Sister Audrey 
– That ignant prayer from Baby Boy

That time Jay Z won the Grammy and said he wanted to thank God a little bit

– Whatever that shorty in Mary Mary said before she shot up that car

– Everything Pastor Ma$e said after he became Murda Ma$e again

– Those “thoughts and prayers” tweets from members of Congress after a mass shooting when they refuse to do anything about gun control

– Prayers for her to come back when you both know you ain’t changed

I mean every now and again you can slip one by, you made to work and back with your tank on E.  Maybe some sports fans did slip one by because the Cubs are defending champions. And now Trump is (their) President. See what happens? Stop playing on His phone, B.  

-Stan-

 

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Today’s Word is… FLIGHT


The “fight or flight response” is our body’s primitive, automatic, inborn response that prepares the body to “fight” or “flee” from perceived attack, harm or threat to our survival.  You could say the same applies to our overall well being, particularly in dating. Your relationship hits a snag, do you fight or flight?  I feel like the generations before fought; adversity just came with the territory.   We all know of the old married couple who damn near hate each other and now they’ve been married 50 years because who wants to start over even after 10.  Then of course there was the whole women couldn’t work, don’t want to leave the kids, cost of divorce, etc so they just rode the wave of a decision they made at 18 years old and waited for the other to just die already.   The pickings were slim and when you had one you kept it.  Abuse, affairs, aloofness, alcoholism  (alliteration for the win) you rode it out.
These days, having seen what they went through we are flightier than ever. We stay in airplane mode.  It’s easy to move on when every single person in a 30 mile radius is right there in an app.  (Or further than that; if you’re into that kinda thing) Is it an overcorrection?  Perhaps.  Dating has become fundamentally flawed because everyone has one foot out the door because they won’t be the ones looking like BooBoo the fool.  We’ve gone from slim pickings to option overload.  We’re casually moving on the next one and effectively not learning anything. Where’s the incentive to?  I learned recently some women won’t even save your number until you prove yourself.  A contact, B?  We are so dismissive about dating that it’s like why do we even bother?  Or is it we are just really careful.  We hook up, explore options and when we’ve had our fun we turn around and then settle down with no regrets.  Maybe we need a word for the stage when you are dating but are fairly certain you haven’t found your forever worth fighting for.

 My fight was the skrongest.  I fell hard and fast and turned a blind eye to things that I probably knew better to.  Now, it’s a fight to even want to fight.  I’d become a pragmatist, we probably won’t get married so this is just borrowed time anyway.  It wasn’t even that I didn’t care for these women I just couldn’t disabuse myself of the inevitable.  I’m an INFJ, I project and shit.  It wasn’t fair to them (even though I’m pretty accurate with these things), the magic 8 ball in my head told me this wasn’t going to last and I acted accordingly.  Now because of me, she is pretty much over geminis, dark skin, beards, accountants, and dudes with blogs.  So she’s cold to them and they take it our on the next girl. It’s the circle of strife.  

Maybe one day we’ll reach that middle ground where you aren’t hanging on to a dead end relationship but also aren’t blocking numbers because you haven’t spoke in a few days.  Where real feelings aren’t being hidden by passive aggressive memes and being yasssssed by the same home girls who are eyeball emoji’ng his pictures.  I used to be patient, I used to be persistent and even I have to catch myself from sinking the whole island when I’m peeved.  I’ve stayed too long in situations and probably gave up too easily on others. The former likely the cause of the latter.  You fight and get your ass whooped your instinct is probably flight the next time.  And flight is the safest way to go if you never want to be hurt, but it’s also means you’ll never win either.  

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… CON

Previously on the Trumpocalypse:

Wait, wtf you mean he won?” 

The Cheeto-Elect

The NAHguration

Don’t Trust Race Bannon!

3/6/17 (Day 116)- It’s the remix to the ignition, hot and fresh out the kitchen, Twitler just dropped another Muslim Ban, a slightly altered edition.  He basically scratched off Iraq and turned it right back in.  I expect it to be struck down again because, again illegal as fuck to do so.  Meanwhile, the media is casually running with the Obama wiretap story because apparently no one has taken social studies or at least watched Season 5 of The Wire to know it’s again, illegal as fuck to use a wiretap on a private citizen without a federal judge’s approval.  Yes, even for Presidents.  Thankfully so, for the President we have now.  Because if I were to bet on which President would be the one to abuse such a power, it would be Orange Foolius in a landslide.  

3/7/17 (Day 117)- One of my biggest pet peeves is the fake woke inward on Facebook who believes generational economic disparity could be solved if black people just stopped buying Jordans.  I have textbooks that cost more than sneakers and if we keeping it a buck the sneakers are probably worth it because the book was worth 50% less the second I walked out of the store.  That impulse to blame the poor for bad priorities rather than acknowledge the flaws in the system is just beyond stupid.  It felt like only *WE* was hit with that faulty logic like white kids don’t buy shoes too.  So today I couldn’t help but be tickled by the fact that the game flipped up finally.  As Republicans scramble to defend their inexcusably bad health care bill, they have nowhere to turn but on their own constituents.  Now it’s not about the higher co-pays and deductibles, but rather how low income Americans prioritize their spending.  The irony is delicious.  Instead of fixing the problem, it’s easier to spin how people aren’t as poor as they think.  Except, no matter how much one saves, one long hospital visit can wipe out their savings and then some.  So then what?  

3/13/17 (Day 123)- Sunkist Stalin thinks they’re cameras in the microwave.  I’m perfectly OK making fun of him while recognizing I grew up with aunties who turned off the TV during thunderstorms.

Stay Woke

3/15/17 (Day 125)- Just waking up and the President is beefing with Snoop Dogg. No big deal.  This feels like a wacky dream sequence on a TV show, hell it WAS a wacky dream sequence on a TV show. 


3/16/17 (Day 126)- When you watch enough basketball, it’s easy to spot a heat check.  It’s when a player if feeling himself so much that he’ll take shots further and quicker just to see how “on” he is.  I feel like the Nacho Nazi is in a heat check. He’s just pulling up from 40 just to see if it goes in.  2 Muslim 2 Ban was blocked, as expected. His budget is so awful I doubt it passes, his healthcare bill will take away 24,000,000 subscribers and even his signature wall seems dead in the water.  His entire campaign, a heat check it went from a boast to party frontrunner, to nominee and now he’s President and all he wanted was a few tax breaks for him and his cronies.  It’s as if he himself underestimated the power of white mediocrity.  

3/19/17 (Day 129)- Mere days after proposing cuts to heating assistance, meals on wheels, affordable housing, combating homelessness, a law was passed allowing states to require drug testing for unemployment benefits.  When it’s Friday, you ain’t got no job, and you ain’t got shit else to do…drink, apparently.  The war on poor people wages on, and as long as Dwight P Poe think they are sticking it to Shaniqua they won’t notice these attacks are on them as well.  

3/20/17 (Day 130)- At a campaign rally even though he’s already president, Toupee Fiasco boasts to his uneducated fans about how the NFL is afraid to sign Colin Kaepernick because they don’t want to feel the wrath of his tweets.  *reads that sentence again because this can’t be life*.  Young Cheez-it has made a habit of referencing companies by name online causing small spikes or dips in their stock, you would think a President would recognize this and stop doing so but he continues to push the button because he’s a giant orange man baby.  Kaepernick, who is 29 years old, could find himself out of a career because he dared stand up for something he believed in. Meanwhile, Senate hearings begin today about whether the President colluded with Russia.  Oh, the irony.

3/24/17 (Day 134)- “Obamacare is the law of the land” – Speaker Ryan
Just gives you chills like saying “Mufasa”.  The AHCA aka Trumpcare aka Get Rich or Try Dying aka Lightskinned Aunt Viv Care aka Great Value Care failed spectacularly today.  Even with a GOP majority.  Isn’t closing deals supposed to be his thing?  Mango Musselini’s response, “meh.”  I remember when Obama first mentioned healthcare, I remember “YOU LIE”, I remember all the town halls, I remember Mitt Romney running for President promising to repeal it like he didn’t sign it into law in Massachusetts in the first place, I remember the Supreme Court rulings.  Trump tried to force a bill without even getting the cost of it, gave a 24 hour ultimatum and now that it’s failed it’s as if it never happened.  All in vain to quickly snatch the legacy of the first black President out of the history books. The people who voted for him, they voted against Obamacare without realizing it went against their self interest. If the AHCA wasn’t so disastrous for women I would’ve wished it had passed just so they could learn the hard way. 

Foreshadowing…

3/27/17 (Day 137)-36% approval rating, Muslim Ban failed twice, healthcare failed, and there’s still the wholetreason thing looming.  This is “unpresidented” failure.  Except his rates at Mar a Lago and his hotels have gone up, the secret service has to pay him to protect him and his name is a registered trademark in China. Is he a comically inept President or just a really shrewd con man?  I honestly believe it’s both.

3/30/17- Then a hero comes along, with the strength to carr-, oh it’s just Mike Flynn.  Who has resurfaced with an offer of testimony in exchange for immunity.  The same “Lock her up” Mike Flynn.  Mr “if you’re given immunity it means you committed a crime” Mike Flynn. General “oh you meant THAT Russia” Mike Flynn.  Could he finally end the Trumpocalypse once and for all?  
3/31/17- Immunity denied.  Welp.  See y’all next month. Until then, stay knucked. Bucked. Ready to fight.

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Today’s Word is… THERAPY

So, I tried therapy before.  No shame in it, I was dealing with some things and my employer provided free counseling  (y’all should really check if you got EAP benefits) and I’m like, why not?  I go to my session, it’s an older white man, really nice guy (even though he used to to do this thing where he would quote relatively known people and ask if I heard of them, yes nilla I heard of Thomas Jefferson; he probably raped an ancestor so we kin).  So I went into the first 3 sessions, and well, I felt like I was talking to one of you.  He was just too into the story, and I mean I’ve lived quite a life but I wasn’t feeling like I was getting what I needed there. I won’t say it wasn’t helpful at all, there were some things he pointed out that still sit with me that I may not ever had. However, at the end of the employer sponsored sessions he asked (did I have real insurance…I almost booked a session just so he wouldn’t think I couldnt afford it…I’m self conscious, maybe I should see another therapist about that) and if I wanted to continue to see him, I decided thanks, but no thanks. I just felt like a middle aged married white man just wasn’t getting me and wasn’t going to.  Nothing against him, but he (it) just wasn’t for me.  

I’m quite aware I sound like the stereotype, studies show black people are 20% more likely to have psychological distress than white people, which, duh…being black in America is fugging stressful.  7% of black men will experience some form of severe depression in their lifetime. Studies also show black people make up less than 2% of the mental health field so I mean, the options are pay a microagressive shrink or just deal.  Like I said, being black in America is fugging stressful. All of this came to mind the other day at the barbershop as I was watching my barber the other day. It was just an ordinary Saturday, I was about 15 minutes late for my appointment and got leapfrogged (which…how you just gonna leapfrog me, B? All these years? I had plans that night, this nigga ain’t have no plans, he was gonna take a few pics for the gram and sit in there house playing 2K…I almost prayed his hand slipped and he messed up but God don’t like ugly).  Anyway, Toupee Fiasco was on the TV for some reason and Young Leapfrog went off.  Just ranting about everything and my barber just nodded and agreed, focused on his craft (to my disappointment he never messed up) giving his own points when he could.  It was like witnessing a therapy session. So as I sat watching and hating I thought, yo heprobably has had this same conversation all day every day for months.  At the end of the cut, you feeling fresh and empowered.  For $27 dollars a session. Plus tip. So basically, barbers > therapists. I’m kidding.

I know therapy works great and is productive for plenty of people.  We need it as a resource, as a staple, because we’re hurting out here.  And I mean of course a barber isn’t as qualified as a mental health professional.  The solution is more of US as professionals in the first place.  In the interim, men might trust their gfs and barbers over therapists just as we probably trust Naturalista6969 on a message board over a white dermatologist.  We find comfort amongst our own.  However, therapy in general…I just don’t think it’s for me. Nor is brooding and coming home to a bottle of scotch and trying to live vicariously through my sports teams because thats the “manly” way to emote.

So, I just incorporate my own ways to cope, unwind, find peace.  Or as the streets say, self-care.  I pray, I sleep, I blog, I play video games, I shoot hoops, I run (walk briskly and sprint a couple times so the numbers add up), I facetime, I play hooky from work once a month, I clean, I listen to music, I get massages, I send selfies, I block numbers,  I see family, I draw, I fuck, I shop, I wander, I tweet, I vent, I Netflix, I turn up, I flirt, I drink (tea),  I travel, I eat good, I laugh a lot.  None singularly are THE answer, they all are.  Keep your heart, 3 stacks.

Some find therapy more helpful, some find self care more helpful, but you don’t need to be a Kendrick or Drake fan about this; it doesn’t have to be one or the other.  It’s possible to apply both.  Perhaps, preferably so.  I’ve had homies bare their soul over an ass whooping in Madden.  I’ve learned so much about myself in these posts, some drafts will never see the light of day because they got too real.  Black men may not go to traditonal therapy, but will pillow talk their girl to death.  Me, Kid Cudi and Kanye got through 2010 together. 2016 brought many people to new church homes, hell, even therapy.  We all just trying to find our way.   Or maybe it took me going to therapy to realize all of the other ways I practice self care because I’m not comfortable in that setting. Boom. Mind blown.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… TALE

My life is a comedy of errors sometimes. Every now and again, I find myself in situations and I can only laugh because of course it would happen to me.  Gather round boys and girls, its story time.

*cues Story to Tell instrumental*

So I’m at a happy hour with some folks, I meet…let’s call her Nancy.  Nancy and I hit it off, she was an engineer of sorts did something I wasn’t smart or sober enough to comprehend.  She talked abut how she loved to travel but that’s what every woman says.  Her and her homegirl are about to take off, she’s like okay so what’s your instagram?  *record scratch* Like I remember I saw that in an episode of Atlanta but I didn’t know this happened in real life.  So in my head I’m like issa curve.  The next day she DMs me like I forgot to give you my number.  Curve reversed. Iight bet. So anyway, I don’t really use it because I’m me. (and I got a man crate so I think I’m seeing someone but that’s another story for another time). Anyway, Nancy would hit me up randomly,  we have casual conversation.  Then one day, she’s like hey I’m doing an event in your area would you like to come?  I’m like sure why not.

She sends me the address, it’s the dance studio down the street.  I go and she’s really happy to see me, a little weird because we barely speak outside of quick convos but hey.  She introduces me to a bunch of people, and because it’s a studio there’s music going everyone is just dancing amongst themselves, it’s like a scene in Step Up.  So then the music stops, and everyone heads downstairs, there’s a bunch of chairs around a projector. I’m like okay her event, I figure it’s some sort of community service project of sorts.  There’s plenty of chairs she comes and sits on my lap.  Again, kinda weird but I just roll with it.  Then, this dude I met earlier gets up to speak….

…it’s a Pyramid Scheme.

So, I’m trapped.  I sit through the presentation. I hear all the red flags and I can’t help but judge her. (Again, she’s an engineer).  So at the end she pulls out her phone like so I think we should do it. (She was clearly in one of the photos).  I’m like…uh…I’m not quite sure.   Some other sucker signed up as a platinum member at that, everyone gets up to hug him and welcome him to the family.  This is beyond a pyramid scheme this feels a little culty.  I get up and ready to slide out, Nancy is like if we do it together we get half off or something, I’ve done sales I know game when I see game. I excuse myself to go the bathroom…she follows me upstairs.  Posts up by the door.  If there was a window I might’ve considered going for it.  So because I don’t do awkward well, I’m like I need to sleep on it.  She’s like well, I can sign you up and you pay me back.  She really didnt wanna be saved but I did. Told her I actually needed to sleep on it.  I get a text from a  random number, like “welcome to the family”.  She didn’t. She couldn’t.  “I hope you don’t mind but some people wanted your number.” She did.

So then we leave I walk her to her car, she gives me some literature and leans for a kiss goodnight.  I give her cheek and I never wanted to get home more.  The remainder of the night I would wonder if I was the mark or if she really liked me as I was flooded with texts from members of the travel cult.  I don’t know if she lied to her “family” or actually signed me up to save face and well, I tried to save her from herself.  They seemed like cool people outside of the whole cult thing, but I’ll just stick to the savings and fare glitches I’m used to. Nancy has hit me up since, I haven’t had much to say.  I guess travel cult pyramid scheme is a dealbreaker.  And so concludes my tale of how I almost maybe might could be in a cult. Or may possibly end up on People’s Court.  Hopefully, Judge Judy…she’d definitely take my side. Because this is just how my life is sometimes.  Escaping through the window would’ve been a funnier ending tho.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… FLYOUT

true love story unlike any other…Boy tweets girl. Girl tweets boy. Boy DMs Girl. Girl gives Boy her number. Boy likes Girl. Boy lives at A. Girl lives at B.  Boy invites Girl to A.  Boy and Girl do adult things. Boy drives Girl to Gate.  Girl misses Boy. Girl intentionally misses flight to be with Boy. Boy has plans. Boy thought he was done with Girl. Boy ignores Girl.  Girl shows up at his place. Boy still ignores Girl.  Boy calls cops.  Girl is escorted away. Girl tells Twitter. Twitter laughs. Boy tells his side. Twitter laughs. Twitter loves no one. 

Flyout horror stories for whatever reason are pretty common on Twitter.   While I would never set myself up for that type of failure, others need to vent to somebody, anybody, and Twitter is always open.  The most common theme is being left stranded or after you fall out talk about how wack the sex was or how filthy the crib was that you clearly had no issue having sex in. (They always miss the irony in that).  In this day and age, meeting someone you met online is more common (because these days some women don’t ever want to be approached, looked at or thought about in real life).  As much as I enjoy a good flyout disaster story with my cup of coffee in the morning, I wish people would be smarter about it and follow the Flyout guidelines.

1. Stop leaving your house without money.  Didn’t your mama, auntie, hairdresser, neighbor, favorite reality TV star tell you this.  No matter how many facetimes, texts, and naked pictures you’ve shared, this is still a first date.   Act accordingly.  Have enough to get home, have enough to get a room.  

2. State your intentions. All of them. Be adults about the whole thing.  About sex and the relationship going forward.  You don’t want to fly out and end up in their dungeon or end up on Maury.  Get tested, wrap it up.  Be real about what happens next, is this something that’s sustainable or was “New Orleans just New Orleans”.   If you’re not looking for a relationship, let them know before you meet.  If you are looking for a relationship, let them know before you meet. Don’t play with people’s feelings, and more importantly, their bread. 

3. Get a hotel- You don’t know them.  They don’t know you. More importantly, you don’t know how clean their bathroom is.  If things break bad you can play sick, go home and know they can safely find their way back without you (Sorry.)  At least for the first meeting, then after that you just look married as hell

4. Neutral site- Perhaps just a personal preference of mine, if I’m paying for a flight, hotel, dinner….why not make a trip out of it?  (and Boston kinda small).Find a city convenient for both and meet up there, explore together.  

5. He goes first- Recurring theme here, let him court.  If he’s bout that life, he’ll make the time, effort and trip to see you.  Even if it’s on Spirit. Okay, maybe not.  If you just happen to be in town….iight bet, but just don’t miss your flight. See opening anecdote. 

Sounds reasonable, right?  Treat the stranger you’re meeting from the internet to have sex with like a stranger from the internet you’re meeting to sex with, but that’s too pragmatic I suppose.  This is ebae, you have feelings, you trust them, they’re different yada yada yada.  Where is the line between being too trusting and too cautious?   Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.  If you’re going to do it, do it, with an open mind and an open heart. And if it does go bad, tell your friends. Don’t take the L on Twitter.  Because again, Twitter loves no one. Carpe DM tho.

-Stan-

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