The New Age of Parenting

This is yet another brilliant idea of mine. I was talking to a new mom friend of mine yesterday. She just recently created her second life. I have not created any lives. Ever since she and I started hanging out back in 2011 I decided that she and I were pretty much the same kind of person. In reality we are vastly different, but we had several parallel personality traits and drives. We don’t speak much anymore ever since she moved away, got married, and started making babies. Not to mention we were once a pretty tight trio including my ex-girlfriend. So things are very different now. Everyone is in a very different place.

She was talking to me about how her daughter in her terrible twos doesn’t listen. After having my nephew live with me at that age, I learned you really only have two choices with children at this level. You can spank them or you can bribe them. What terrible choices. I personally have the policy of not negotiating with terrorists, so I refused to bribe my nephew, regardless of the fact that his mother kept chips or candy on hand to get him under control. Not me. I would just suplex that little boy.

It’s exhausting. So here’s an idea. We need shock collars for kids. Before you call the authorities, hear me out. White people have ALREADY opened the door, putting those damn leashes on their babies. Baby leashes are perfect and necessary if you think about it. Babies are suicidal. They are looking for every opportunity to run out into traffic the second mom isn’t looking, and get their parents thrown in jail for neglect. Selfish little bastards. Of course they don’t know better. Anyway, since we already have leashes, why not go all the way and shock em to stop em.

“My whole life now is changing diapers and saying stop and sit down” -Candi

Ok I’m kidding. That’s not the idea. I actually brought up something during our conversation that made me wonder why this doesn’t exist. With millennials being so much more free and in tune with themselves, they aren’t getting married as much as their parents. Women in general are growing to be ok with not having a relationship and instead focusing on themselves and their career. It’s a new age and marriage is dead. However, marriage can’t die. At the moment, there is no better environment for a child to thrive than within a strong marriage. But strong marriages are a dime a dozen. So maybe it’s time to reinvent the wheel. And the funny thing is, we are almost there already. We have sperm banks and all of these avenues for individuals to become parents. Here’s another one that I think may be long overdue due to societal norms and how controversial it would be.

There are way too many dating sites. They all have one of several goals in mind. To set us up with someone to spend our lives with, or at the very least someone to spend the night with. All circumstances that ultimately lead to emotion filled relationships that often lead to children. Let’s get that emotion the fuck out of there. How about a “matchmaking” website that simply matches two people who want to pro-create. Before I continue, let’s ponder on this. As usual, let’s jump to a song or stand up comedy clip to further analyze the concept:

Louis CK feels like he is the best version of himself as a parent under his current circumstances of divorce. Think of what he had to do in order to get there. The roller coaster of a relationship that ultimately did not work out. Divorce (and the bad relationships that it stems from) fucks adults and kids up. I think it fucks kids up because it takes their normal, tears it apart, and puts it back together in a different way. Worse, sometimes the parents can’t work out a mature agreement the way Louis and his ex-wife have and the kids are caught in the hurricane of it. It’s not healthy.

So back to my idea. Give consenting adults a tool (website/app) to do research and make a conscious decision to co-parent children without the love or marriage to another person. It would simply be an agreement between two adults to create a new life together and split the parenting. It’s basically jumping to the divorce phase of a relationship without all of the feelings involved.

I know..

It would be the most controversial thing since the 2016 election. It would create a new issue for Republicans and Democrats to completely take opposite positions on like abortion or gun control. I can already see the website headquarters being fire-bombed by religious fanatics. I can also see the creator of the website essentially being crowned the next Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Steve Bezos, or Steve Jobs as a forward thinker. Why? Because it would essentially pioneer yet another thing to enhance human beings beyond our current limitations. This is not to say that love is a limitation. Love is a beautiful thing. But at the same time it’s a drug and we often make bad decisions on drugs. However one’s love for their children. That’s probably the best love there is. There is nothing more powerful. So let’s stop coupling that love with the fleeting love that comes and goes with relationships and marriage. Forcing them together is probably what is creating so many fucked up human beings. I mean.. aside from all of the mayhem that goes on outside of rich countries.

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Be Thankful

I am thankful for Netflix

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I am thankful for breadstix

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I am thankful for Shock Top

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I am thankful for hip hop

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I am thankful for Aziz Ansari tho

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I am thankful for Super Mario

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I am thankful for Catan

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I am thankful for plain naan

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I am thankful for Moski & Punky

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I am thankful I’m only an internet junky

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I am thankful for XBox One

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I am thankful for the clip on man bun

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I am thankful for the man that raised me, my dad

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I am thankful for the option to be lazy, my bad..

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I am thankful for sunshine

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I am thankful for a fun time

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I am thankful for the 90s

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I am thankful I don’t need a shiny timepiece

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I am thankful for the force

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I am thankful for divorce

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I am thankful for Bluetooth

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I am thankful for new shoes

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I am thankful for my Mac Book

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I am thankful my step mom taught me to cook

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I am thankful for bandaids

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I am thankful my dad taught me to landscape

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I am thankful for everything I have been through

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I am thankful for the strength to continue

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I am thankful for orgasms

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I am SO thankful for orgasms

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I am thankful for being black and having rhythm

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I am thankful for a high metabolism

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I am thankful for Louis CK

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I am thankful for sales on eBay

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I am thankful for urban soul music

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I am thankful for technology and knowing how to use it

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I am thankful for Instagrams and Snapchats

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I am thankful for a pretty smile and a fat ass

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I am thankful for coffee and booze

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I am thankful for eyes and boobs

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I am thankful for my birth in 1984

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I am thankful I’m not too young for anything anymore

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I am thankful for my white mother

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I am thankful I can check “other”

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I am thankful for these gas prices

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I am thankful for the last slices

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I am thankful for education

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I am thankful for graduation

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I am thankful for penetration

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I am thankful for masturbation

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I am thankful you’re still reading

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I am thankful I’m not bleeding

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I am thankful for love and angels

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I am thankful that I can be thankful

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Mr. & Mrs. Smith

My favorite kind of movies are the ones that give you something new on later watches. The kind that give you enough to follow the plot and the characters the first time but when you go back and watch it again, you feel something.

That is not to say that Mr. & Mrs. Smith is one of those movies given that the title of this post is based on that movie. However, after sitting yesterday for a moment considering that movie, I did get something new out of it.

It’s more than just a movie about two spies working for competing agencies who happened to get married. It’s a movie about the climax of marriage. A movie about marriage at the point of destruction or resurrection.

Let’s talk about marriage for a moment.

We meet. We fall in love. We decide based on that feeling and several other factors we find important at the time that we want to spend the rest of our lives with this person. We spend a few years with this person. We eventually realize we don’t know this person as well as we thought. We fall out of love with this person, but we hold on to them for one reason or another.

Something happens. Something tragic. Something wonderful.

Whatever it is, it either makes or breaks the relationship. If we do survive it together, we come out of it learning something about ourselves and this person. This strengthens our bond. And then we live happily ever after.

Or do we? I guess we’ll see..

Am I Verbally Abusive?

I don’t think I am, but I am a savage from the mean streets of Detroit, so I could be mistaken.

According to all of the forums I have read about verbal abuse, I am probably verbally abusive in my relationship. This is not an admission of guilt or denial. Not yet. Let’s dig around for a bit..

I have a temper. I do the same things when I get angry. I either yell and curse or I withdraw. I don’t really enjoy arguing in my relationship (at least not consciously). It takes a toll on me. I feel the stress of it in my entire body. I get headaches from stress. I am a naturally anxious person, so arguments flick the anxiety switch on and it pretty much stays on until the conflict is resolved.

However, I am not one to give in, especially if I feel I am right. Also, I am very good at holding on to my anger (i.e. bad at calming down). So either we are going back and forth and I am trying to show you where you messed up, or I am not engaging because I know that arguing is futile in my anger and I just need time to calm down to rationally hash this out.

Discussions turn into arguments with me pretty quickly. All it really takes is a passionate disagreement. Then I find myself trying to logic you into my way of thinking. It never works. But that’s why I think subconsciously I may get some kind of thrill in the fight.

I enjoy winning. I am a gamer. It is a natural trait for a gamer to enjoy winning. And games, at least compared to life, are easy to win. It’s safe to say I am addicted to gaming. Something inside me craves whatever it is progression in a game provides.

I enjoy competition, especially if I can win. I will drop my plans to play Settlers of Catan any day of the week. I have been playing since college. I can’t say so about many things, but I have mastered Settlers of Catan. I teach everyone I spend an evening with how to play and then I pound them into the ground for thinking they could take on their master. So come get you some sometime.

These traits are no good for relationships. A competitive spirit and the will to win has no place in an argument with your significant other.

I know this to be true, yet I still do battle. The bell rings and I use every weapon at my disposal. Especially profanity. This is where things get a bit tricky. I don’t say things to my woman like “You ain’t shit, bitch”, “Fuck you”, “Eat a dick!”, or “Cunt!”. I may have said “well fuck you then” a time or two. It’s always defensive. It’s when something she said somehow penetrated my man armor, such as implying that I am somehow not good enough for her. I know we fake it well, but we feel too.

Anyway, mostly I swear when the anger reaches a boil and I am unable to suppress the bad words. If you read my tweets, you know I am a vulgar person deep down. The words are always there but my Bruce Banner keeps them hidden. When tensions are running high, an innocent statement like “Where are we going?” goes Incredible Hulk and becomes “Where the fuck are we fucking going!?”

Whenever that happens, she stops and gives me a look. If looks could kill and reincarnation was possible, I would have lived a hundred lives.

The words that follow the look: “You’re not going to talk to me like that!”

My usual response: “You’re not going to tell me how to talk!”

If the argument was progressive in any way at all up to this point, this is when it falls off the rails.

So.. Is that verbal abuse? I think it depends on who you ask. My woman was taught not to let someone (especially a man) swear at her. However, if you are over 18, you can cuss at me all day and I won’t flinch. I had an alcoholic stepmother and I attended elementary and middle school in the inner city. Cuss words directed at me lost their sting in my adolescence. If anything, I’ll just try to come back with better cuss words than yours.

A woman who swears probably won’t feel verbally abused. My woman, however, is a delicate flower. My savagery accidentally stomps out her feelings on a daily basis. That’s one way to tell it. The other way is that she does not want to be the kind of person who uses profanity. She projects much of what she wants in her life onto me. When I break that mold, she tries to reel me back in, not knowing that I wasn’t there to begin with.

I love her, so more often than not I cave. I tell her that I won’t use profanity when fighting with her. And then I do it again. It’s exhausting. After reading about verbal abuse on forums, I told her today that it’s probably never going to stop happening, so she either needs to learn to deal with it or leave. It’s that simple. Don’t take nobody’s abuse.

To be continued..

Fight Night

Last Friday, Herb Dean or Mills Lane must have been hiding in my apartment somewhere because shit got crazy between me and my fiancée real quick. Not fist fight crazy. I would never throw hands at my woman. Got a dropkick in my back pocket if I need it tho.

That’s a joke. Chill, internet..

Here’s how it started. I was sitting at the table putting a little bit of time into a side project I am working on. My sweet dear fiancée who I love and I cherish comes home from a long work day. She is currently working four 10 hour days per week for the sake of one day off, a prize for doing some shit at work that I obviously forgot because I don’t listen. In addition to that, she has been doing most of the house work at home. She cooks semi-healthy dinners. She loads and unloads the dishwasher. She maintains a reasonably clean shared space in the apartment. And me? Well I sit on my ass because somebody around here has to!

I don’t have as much time to spend on household chores because my side project takes up a lot of my at home free time. I do sit on my ass most of the time, but it’s in front of my computer for hours getting paid to create something amazing. So basically it’s a second job that I wanted and I took on for the benefit of my wallet and my career.

I do some things at home. The obscure things. I hide the step ladder and oblige in reaching the high places for things that are unreachable for the more vertically challenged among us. I defeat the toilet goblins that invade the bathroom once or twice a month. I cuddle the cats as punishment when they misbehave. I point out when things are out of place or could use a bit of maintenance. I manage. Not her. Anyone listening. It’s usually her that has to oblige though because she doesn’t keep those damn cats in line.

More jokes. Fucking chill..

Anyway, she gets home and I have left a single dish in the sink. It’s the only dish. She asked me that morning to put that dish in the dishwasher so that it would not be lonely. The loneliness of a dish is the least of my worries so it slipped my mind. She asked me to do it again then went to change out of her work clothes. I went to load the dish but then I noticed that the dishwasher nightclub was entirely full and this dish was going to have to wait for people to leave or go find some hot chicks for whom there is always room. So I put the dish back in the sink and went back to working at the table.

When she came out of the room, she glanced in the sink and had to make a decision. I cannot presume to know what goes through a woman’s mind but I won’t doubt that cracking me upside the head with that plate wasn’t outside her realm of ideas. However she took the high road and simply inquired:

“I thought you were going to put your plate in the dishwasher.”

It was at this point that I should have known I was in trouble. It was true that I was originally absent minded but this time I had actually attempted to do what she asked when she asked for it. I simply replied:

“The dishwasher is full.”

I was not ready for what was to happen next. I figured this resolved the issue given you can’t add to something that is already full. I was wrong:

“So why didn’t you start the dishwasher?” she snapped.

OK folks. Let’s take a look at what just happened here. I forgot to do something she asked, which created a bit of tension. Then I seemingly disregarded her final request, which pretty much started the fire. The fire started the moment she saw the plate in the sink yet again. My defense had no weight regardless of the logic behind it. Starting the dishwasher wasn’t necessarily the next logical step, but it would have been a proactive gesture to ease the tension given I was wrong in the first place. From her perspective, that gesture, though not directly requested, was the expectation and I failed to do any of it. The tone in her voice caused me to react negatively. And so the bell rang and the match began.

We spent the rest of the evening and the weekend fighting over household responsibilities. She doesn’t want to feel like a housewife. I don’t feel like I have the free time for house work.

It took a toll on everything. I still have the bullet wounds.

The lesson I learned was something I already knew. There was a split second on that Friday when I knew that I should back down, admit guilt, and promise to do better next time. Instead I defended. It’s not a battle if you don’t defend. So on Sunday, I waved the white flag. I sent her a text message soon after a recent bout telling her that I would try to do what she wants. Next time I need to figure this out before shots are fired and half the house is burned to the ground.

Why Do Nice Guys Finish Last?

Because she has to come first. *wink*

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Hi. I’m your friendly neighborhood Nice Guy. All I want to do is meet a nice girl, fall in love, get married, make a few babies, and live happily ever after. I try to live by the love songs on my iPod and the romantic comedies on my DVR. If you give me a real chance, I’ll be everything you want me to be and more. I’ll pay your rent. I’ll buy your clothes. I’ll cook your dinner too. As soon as I get home from work. Cuz you’ve got that whip-appeal, baby.. Face it. I’m the one for you.

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Are you experiencing these symptoms? You may be suffering from being a total pussy. Grow a pair of these and call me in the morning..

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OK. That was mean.

I apologize, Nice Guy. It’s not your fault. You think being good is the sure-fire way to get the girl. I understand. I’ve been there.

*flashback*

Once upon a time there was a young mulatto that thought he found everything he was looking for in the girl up the street. She was a sweet and beautiful tender roni that had his heart from the day he met her. He thought that being a good guy was all he needed to have what he assumed was probably the love of his life. Eventually this young mulatto learned from the boy across the street who swooped in and took her virginity while the mulatto was in pursuit that girls want more than just a good guy. It was a hard but necessary lesson.

The truth is that women, especially the young/hot ones, have no idea what they want. Here’s an experiment. Ask a woman what she wants. Any answer other than “I don’t know” is probably hogwash with a hint of poppycock.

Mmm.. Spicy..

She may give you a laundry list of contradictory significant other traits that range from nice guy to P. Diddy in 60 seconds. “I want him to throw me against the wall during sex and cuddle me afterwards while I tell him my hopes and dreams.” I’m not your Superman, Karyn White! Actually.. No.. Wall sex and cuddling is quite reasonable. I’m sorry for yelling.

Some women do know what they want, but they don’t want to TELL you. They want you to use your magic stick to extract those thoughts out of their brain and into your Pensieve a la 50 Cent.. err.. I mean Harry potter. If you can’t do that, then you will end up in The Friend Zone.

Now here’s where things get interesting. You mad cuz YOU are in The Friend Zone. You can’t blame her. You can leave anytime. If you want to be her friend, then you should be happy that you are in The Friend Zone. But you want those benefits that the guys on the next floor get, huh? The Friends With Benefits Zone at least, right? No worries. When she has sampled ALL of the candidates with a More Than Friends Pass, you will have your shot. Just sit tight.

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Or..

Move the hell on! Have you not grown a pair yet?! We may need a second opinion. If you are in The Friend Zone, chances are you are over-reaching. You can’t reach for the stars and then be mad at the stars because you never reached them. Either you persevere or you fall. There is no charity in love and war.

So what do women really want? Only Mel Gibson knows.

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Here’s what I think. Women want a man they find interesting, has a little swag, is confident in himself, will please them in bed, is driven, can make them laugh, and is attractive in their eyes. You can’t define what these things are to her, but if you have enough of them (give or take) plus a few personalized likes of hers (nice guy, bad boy, whatever), then you are in there. If not, then she’s not the one for you anyway. Don’t forget, Nice Guy, you have standards as well, and I pray that it goes beyond a pretty face and a nice body.. Or you will lose EVERYTIME. But that’s a blog post for another day. Now go out there and be somebody!