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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Today’s Word is… TOUPEE

[Editors Note: So by popular demand, I decided to keep the Trumpocalypse train rolling.  First Monday of the month, every month, until I go insane or he gets impeached.  Then regularly scheduled programming every week.  K. Thanks. Bye.]

The Trumpocalypse: Part IPart II

2/5/17 (Day 89)- Sports has long been the escape for many, including myself.  So Super Bowl Sunday, I just want to drink beer, eat way too many wings and watch my favorite team play.  In what can only be strange irony, it was my Patriots against the Atlanta Falcons.  Toupee Fiasco citing his friendships with the coach, QB and owner adopted the Patriots as his own (even though he don’t even go here) and I find myself being on the wrong side of this two Americas bowl.  It was like being the one person who cared about justice after the OJ verdict, or preferring turkey bacon, sugar grits and thinking Thriller was Michael’s best album.  As much as we argue against being a monolith, no one likes being against the tribe.  But there I was rooting for the official team of #MAGA.  Then more I sat with it, I came to the realization I wasn’t about to let the Supercallousmisogynisticracistnazipotus run me off my team, he, Brady, Belichick will all be gone within the next 4 years anyway.  And Georgia is a red state.

2/9/17 (Day 93)- Federal courts have ruled against Persimmon Putin’s Muslim ban.  It’s certainly a victory for the moment.  TwitterFingers-in-Chief not much unlike a cartoon supervillain exclaims vengeance will be his, he’ll see them in court.  Yes, he told JUDGES he’ll see them in court.  65 million people voted for this man, B.

2/12/17 (Day 96)- So I’m in Chicago, some business and some R&R, as my luck would have it my hotel would be right across the street from a Trump Tower.  I remember every day walking out and seeing this obnoxiously large building, shaking my head and going on about my day.  But today was different.  There was a crowd outside the tower.  I check my phone for any news…Cantaloupe Caillou has been actually pretty silent, still licking his wounds from the L he caught from the courts.  This was a scheduled protest, largely white, they are just going to moon the tower because Trump can kiss their ass.  It’s a lively crowd, but I see this just some white people shit I carry on with my day.  But it highlighted what my issue has been with Dwight P Poe lately…They think this shit is funny still.  While late night hosts thank the lucky stars for the material (sup Colbert), this is still real life.  Trump threatened to send the national guard to Chicago, and I’m certain he wasn’t referring to the River North where we were.  Mooning a building isn’t doing anything and they know it. Yet there they was, “fighting” the power.

2/15/17 (Day 99)- It appears the news have now come around on the Trump clearly conspired with Russia thing.  The Russian connection has been a conflict for me, because yes fanning this flame will probably help get Edward Littlehands out of here but it also gives a pass to the white supremacy that got him elected in the first place.  The news can pretend #DemEmails are the reason Trump won, but I know better.  Meanwhile VP Mike Pence is demanding answers and keeping his nose clean so when the storm clouds come they’ll let him stay.  Race Bannon can’t be trusted.

2/20/17 (Day 104)- This President’s Day, because I’m a strong, independent citizen who don’t need no President,  I would like to take this time to recognize an actual great leader of our nation,  Happy Birthday Rihanna.

2/23/17 (Day 107)- The newly minted Attorney General, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions whose name just SOUNDS like slavery, is wasting no time living up to his name by rolling back President Obama’s private prison regulations.   This means more drug prosecutions, longer sentences, set your clocks back to 1983.  This isn’t even politically motivated, both Democrats and Republicans both want to cut the prison population, and Sessions just incentivized as many heads in beds as possible.  Obama vowed to make fighting mass incarceration his post Presidential legacy and this was a direct attack.  Is this going to bring him back?

2/28/17 (Day 112)- Cuuuupid….doesn’t liiiiie. (White readers y’all can google what I did there later).  So HBCU Presidents from all over the country went to meet with Mango Mousellini, because if there’s a chance to get some bread they going to take it, they grinders.  I got why they went, although I can’t help but look at them sideways because it’s like, have you seen him?  Historically speaking, HBCUs have always fared better under Republican presidents because they are all about keeping *us* away from *them*.  Trump signed an executive order, moving their objectives from the desk of the Betsy DeVos, who for reasons unknown to anyone decided to connect HBCUs to her “school choice” agenda,  onto his own, with no actual promise of funding.  Basically, they got played B.  They were better off scheduling their football team to get beat by 70 by Alabama, at least that’s a guaranteed check.
3/1/17 (Day 113)- So I watched the Joint Session address last night, or as I would call it #HateofTheUnion, and I was a little taken aback how comfortable he looked.  I simply forgot what these speeches are, board meetings.  Trump was in his element, he can spew off his alternative facts to large waves of applause.  People appear to be largely impressed, but that’s white mediocrity for you.  All he needed was an actual fitting suit and a teleprompter and suddenly people were ready to lay down their arms and accept the Great Pumpkin as their Commander-in-Chief. (Looking at you, Van Jones).  It goes to show, they don’t disagree with his policies, they just wish he’d stop being embarrassing.

To answer, 3 days.

3/4/17 (Day 114)- So remember how last week I mentioned how Jeff Sessions, the guy who was officially declared too racist to be a federal judge 30 years ago but managed to become the Attorney General and within days rolled back regulations to make private prisons great again?  Yeah…never mind all of that, HE TALKED TO RUSSIA AND LIED ABOUT IT *gasp*.  Once again, white people worried bout the wrong thing but if this is what it takes to get him out of here, so be it.  Meanwhile, Toupee Fiasco is throwing smoke bombs on Twitter, claiming Obama had his phones tapped and Arnold Schwarzenegger isn’t quitting the Apprentice he’s being fired.  Race Bannon still chilling waiting for all this to fall so he can swoop in like a work husband.  Don’t trust Race Bannon.

-Stan-

 

 

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Today’s Word is… SHARING 

It was about a decade ago (fuck, I’m old)…I had broken up with my college girlfriend.  I was so sick of love songs and I had to make the song cry all of that.  So then came time to make the breakup official for the 99 and the 07, the Facebook relationship status change. I was still new to the Facebook thing so when I did it, I didn’t know that it would literally be announced to the whole school.  With a photo we were tagged in together.  Stupid Facebook. I guess it served me right, I was obnoxious about my relationship.  I went through high school largely unchose and then I actually pulled a bad one? Mama I made it!  She wasn’t as obnoxious but she liked me so she let me cook.  But now…it was over.  And the whole school (#altfacts it was pretty much just all the black freshmen on a campus of 28,000) knew.  Stan did that so hopefully you don’t have to go through that.

In this social media age, where is the line drawn between over sharing and secrecy?  Or as the stweets would call it, stay low and build.  It feels like we’ve broken off into two camps, people who cant stop sharing and people who treat their relationships like a covert op.  We all our roll eyes at the oversharer, you know the person who snapchats their entire day, posts screenshots of their intimate conversations and you’re like can you just log off and go suck his dick or something?  It reeks of overcompensation.  Then there’s people who fool and flirt all day and you find out on Valentine’s Day they’ve actually been married for 5 years.

With me, I guess I’m somewhere in the middle.  I literally write about my life, sometimes the people in it come up in the conversation sometimes they don’t.   If you’ve been reading a while, you’ll notice a new nickname pop up and then a few months later they are upstairs with Judy Winslow.  *Pour out some tequila for Tequila*  I’ve also gotten in trouble for not acknowledging enough and purporting myself as single. My friends and family know when I’m seeing someone, even y’all might catch a hint or two but outward declarations of this is bae….nah, we gotta be really serious.
It’s not because I care if people knows I’ve broken up with someone.  Its not like when I marry someone, Ima decide to talk down on “wack” single people meanwhile my wife hasn’t touched me in weeks, and then when I get divorced get in my feelings when someone points out the irony of it all.  I was embarrassed by the Facebook breakup because I was ostentatious about it, I was embarrassed by another one because mainly because it ended very ugly, oh and the whole supposed to get married thing.  Everyone else, I mean it sucked but I was licking my own wounds and not pressed on what strangers thought.  People break up everyday, B.  I think I share with a healthy balance, I’m not ashamed of anyone I’ve been with, and I also don’t need to document every moment like I’ve never had someone before.

Moral of the story,  just be real about it. The ones who take breakups the hardest publicly usually do because the relationship was never about them and they knew it.  Just like that relationship in college was more about my #selfofsteam than it was ever about her.  (But that’s another post entirely).  If you find yourself projecting or being so lowkey and paranoid that you won’t acknowledge someone until “I do”, perhaps some soul searching is in order.  Shrug life.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… HURTBAE

o-hurtbae-facebook

So the other day on Twitter, not long after the timeline was basking in the glow of Valentine’s Day, showing off gifts, boasting how they started with a DM now they here and whathaveyou I had noticed a video was going viral.  I largely ignored it at first because in an age of vine and snapchat, a 7 minute video is pretty much a Martin Scorsese film.  Eventually, I gave in and watched.  Broken, a video from TheScene.com or as the stweets would call it #HurtBae, featured an ex couple seeking closure, and by closure the woman, Kourtney asked her ex, Leonard how and why he cheated and he pretended to care and jedi mind tricked her into thinking the entire breakup was a mutual thing.  The video itself was moving, I suppose but it made me wonder…WHY DO WE BOTHER WITH CLOSURE?  #HurtBae and her ex don’t live in the same state, she supposedly has a new man, a good man, so why did she even volunteer for this?  There was nothing this inward was going to say that was going to change anything.  He attempted to guilt trip her about her about her insecurity and why she didn’t just leave if he was clearly ain’t shit.  (I really don’t want to call dude a sociopath because he is only like 23, but this dude might be a sociopath).

I’ve touched on this last year, closure doesn’t work because the other person clearly doesn’t care that much.  They didn’t care about your feelings when they had you, why would they when they don’t.  #HurtBae wanted him to care so bad, wanted him to see that he broke her, and his only emotion was mild inconvenience.  Even after the video has gone viral and he doesn’t regret how he came off, he is just annoyed black twitter still flaming him. He started off calling her his best friend but looked her dead in her face as she cried and didn’t even attempt to reach out and console her (cuz, sociopath).  Hell, I’ve confronted cheaters and still ended up being the one consoling them (cuz, sucker), it’s just…instinct. How do you just sit and let someone cry in front of you? Someone you care for?

 

Unbothered.

Then to the elephant in the room, why did you cheat?  The answer is the same for why anyone does anything they wasn’t supposed to do…they thought they could get away with it.  If I go into a store, the clerk is so engrossed with their phone they refuse to do their damn job and I just walk out with my stuff because clearly they don’t want my money.  Rationalized? Yes. Still wrong tho.  (*sips stolen water*).  Asking someone why did they cheat is giving them an excuse to blame you for being wrong.  Fuck all of that, B.  It doesn’t matter what reasons you have, you were wrong, you knew you were wrong and you thought you could get away with it, or in dude’s case he KNEW #HurtBae wasn’t about to do shit.

I don’t know if Broken is a one off or a series, I would hope the former because I don’t see how it’s productive.  Forgiveness is very overrated.  Sometimes it’s easier to be like, “you hurt me, so fuck you” and keep it moving.  It’s not bitter, it’s not resentment, why place the burden on yourself to make them see that they was wrong?  Whether ol boy grows and learns from this wasn’t going to happen based on that conversation.  When I was her age (oh shit, I’m old), I was driving myself mad trying to get someone I loved to just try and see things my way.  Now, I just chill and wait for karma (because it’s unethical to pray for things to happen to people).  Maybe one day she’s going to wake up and realize she became everything I hoped she wouldn’t, hell maybe she already has.  I wouldn’t know. Don’t care neither.  Treat it just like I treat a certain segment of our “great” nation, when they are still poor, uneducated, uninsured and realize their mans changed sold them tragic beans, I’ll be chilling.  For #HurtBae, when ol boy is in his 30s, losing his hair, getting dogged out by the woman he wants to do right by and scrolling her social media, he might then realize he slipped up.  Because that’s how closure actually works.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… APPRECIATION

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I like Valentine’s Day, it follows my typical formula of favorite holidays: positive, inclusive and not historically linked to white oppression.  I enjoy the holiday for what it is even though I haven’t had the most luck with it personally; I mean there was the time I was blown off so she could attend her godson’s birthday party with her ex, the time it got ruined because I wouldn’t tell her how much I tipped the attractive waitress, oh and the time when a certain someone went on about how she never got flowers before, I don’t just go and get some red roses, nah that’s basic I get a custom bouquet in her favorite colors, and she basically like these are very pretty, good looks fam.  You know how hard it is to track down some lilies in fucking February…wait, why do I like this day again?  Oh, I guess I love love and shit.  Ultimately, Valentine’s Day is about appreciating your partner, something that gets lost in the sauce, lost in the game so often.  Especially for my brethren.  Where the love, B?  Do men even get Valentine’s Day gifts?  Is that a thing? They have man crates now…it’s basically a gift basket but because of fragile masculinity they put it in a crate and you can open it with a crowbar.  This is really a thing.

Man Crates….yeah, well….YOU’RE A gift basket.

We seem to have reached two extremes, women who act as though their mere presence is appreciation and well, #PickMe twitter. The former, you take her on a weekend getaway for your anniversary and she might swallow and call it even.  The latter, you text a compliment and she might write an entire essay about how she prayed for this kind of love.  I can’t deal with neither; just give me something in the middle.

So, how do you show a man some appreciation?  Hell, I’m not even entirely sure how I want to be appreciated.  For the most part, I equate access with appreciation.  “I wouldn’t be out with you if I didn’t like you” or “You’ve done UVWXY and Z and I’m still dealing with your ass” were kinda hard to argue with.  Sex was even harder. (cuz you know people all place different value on sex and all that other stuff I don’t feel like getting into right now, maybe another post, probably not though).  I would say that’s how it goes for most men, we are affirmed by access whether its a phone number, accepting a date or a come thru. For the most part we carry on in relationships where we’re validated but maybe not valued if that makes any sense.   I would also say for most men their love language is physical touch, (but shoutout to the men like, yeah sex is lit but I like gifts more though…I can respeck it).  I’m a touch and quality time guy myself, so there’s not much complaining on my end either.

I dug a little deeper and asked a handful of women, without using sex how would they show a man they appreciated him.   The answers varied from simply telling him to wait why can’t we have sex again (gotta love the pick mes yo).  The most common answer, food.  I was expecting more genuine compliments, support their hobbies, thank yous, affirmations…you know, to bust the myth that a man is so simple all he needs is sex, food, and peace.  But the more I think about it…that’s a solid hand.  Maybe we are that simple.  Quality time is cool and all but turns out my love language is actually pasta.  So I guess this valentines day, show that special someone how special they are…feed them.  Or I guess, you can just get the nigga a man crate.

-Stan-

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