Von

Remember the Things Women Can Get Away With—But Men Can’t blogs I’ve posted the last couple weeks?

Well, I decided to flip it and show y’all that it ain’t all bad for us men.

Here are 16 things that men can pull off—but y’all (women) can’t:

1) Asking the opposite sex for their hand in marriage: Men get married on OUR terms. We’ll ask y’all when we’re good and damn well ready. You have NO say in when it happens—AT ALL. Deal with it. 

2) Eating as much as we want without looking like a pig.

3) Not caring if their potential mate is shorter than them: Women see a short dude as someone who isn’t worthy of their time. We see a short woman as an opportunity to do tricks.

4) NEVER having to take birth control orally: So let me get this straight: Y’all have to spend a ton of money on birth control pills. Take ‘em EVERY day (if you miss one dose—it don’t work?). And repeat the same thing every month? Men? Our birth control plans consist of running down to Target to pick up a 12 pack of jimmy hats…and that’s about it.

5) Owning 5 pairs of shoes or less: A dude will own less than 2 testicles before a woman will have less than 5 pairs of shoes.

6) Not knowing how to dance: It’s perfectly acceptable if we can’t dance. But fellas, are y’all really tryin’ to take yo’ girl to the reggae club if she can’t “wind it up”?

7) Going 24 hours without using the phone: Just a lil’ FYI, ladies—we hate talking on the phone! ‘Cause we can’t pay attention to you and the game at the same time?

NEVER having to wear uncomfortable shoes—that hurt our feet after wearing ‘em for less than 10 minutes.

9) Surviving a 24-hour period without receiving a compliment from someone of the opposite sex: Weeks—even months—pass without me getting a compliment. And I’m OK with it. Can the same be said for women?

10) Having huge feet.

11) Urinating in public: We can just go in the alley and relieve ourselves without anyone knowing. I saw a girl “squatting” by a tree once—I am now scarred for life, dog.

12) Not having to wait in line to use a public bathroom: Know when the last time I waited in a line for the men’s room? NEVER!

13) Owning porn: Fellas, I don’t know about y’all—but I’d be kinda freaked out if I walked in on my woman watchin’ Saving Ryan’s Privates.

14) Never having a bad hair day: Know when the last time I had a bad hair day? NEVER (well, unless you count the times in high school when I had trouble making sure my high-top fade was even)!

15) Getting ready to leave the house in no less than 20 minutes.

16) Not having to endure the horrible, excruciating pain of childbirth: Thanks for takin’ one for the team, ladies! Just have the doctor call us when it’s over and we’ll pause our game of Madden and be right there.

I went out for a night on the town Saturday night.

I had fun.
The music was cool. There was a nice, professional crowd.
I ran into a few folks I hadn’t seen in a while.
Another young lady mistook me for my evil, diabolical twin brother (“I could’ve sworn I knew you from somewhere”).

It was good times, dog.

At one point I was on the sidelines chillin’—when my concentration was broken by someone callin’ my name.

I turned around only to be face to face with none other than my young, flaky club chick friend.

You know—the 23-year-old I met a few months ago.
Ol’ girl who asked me to dance. The one who gave me her number and insisted I call.
The one I actually called—despite my reservations about meeting women in clubs.

Yeah, her.

I hadn’t spoken to her in a while. Actually I’ve only spoken to her once since the night we met.

It was not too long after she gave me her number. We played phone tag for a few days before I finally got a hold of her. The 3-minute conversation consisted of me asking her stuff—followed by her giving one or two word answers.

Me: How was your day?
Her: Good.
Me: Uh…what’d you do?
Her: Just worked.
*short, uncomfortable silence*

Yeah, it ain’t go well.

That convo—combined with her age and where we met, were confirmation of what I already suspected.

She was indeed a flake who wouldn’t be getting another call from me.

So imagine my surprise when she rolled up on me out of the blue at the party like we never missed a beat.

She even remembered my name (it took me a while to remember hers).

We talked briefly before she, again, asked me if I’d like to dance. Soon she took my hand and led me to the floor where we danced for a bit.

But she excused herself after a couple songs: “I’ll be right back.”

Uh huh. I’ve heard that before. Nine times out of 10, they ain’t comin’ back., dog. It’s a common flaky chick brush off. I wasn’t about to stand there like a simp waiting for her to return. But before I left the floor, I was curious to see what she was gon’ do. Initially she walked toward the ladies room—then made a sharp cut (like a receiver running a comeback pattern) and disappeared into the crowd.

Did she really have to do all that? Was it that serious?
Was the Bourne Ultimatum-type espionage really necessary?

How hard would it have been to say, “Thanks for the dance. It was good seeing you again, Von”?

Wouldn’t that have been a lot easier than lying? Or playing kiddie games?
It’s ain’t like I would’ve started crying. Or balled up on the floor in the fetal position.

Hell, I was minding my own business when she asked me to dance.
And it’s just a harmless dance. It ain’t like I was about to propose.  

At this point in my life, I don’t even get mad no more. I’m just amazed at how these young women will make shyt so much more difficult—when in reality, it’s really simple. Just be honest.

But I guess if they were honest, I wouldn’t have much to write about…

Epilogue:  Later that night, I was dancing with another young lady when I happened to notice the young flaky chick. She was dancing alone—but eyeing me. A few moments later, she was still makin’ googly eyes at me.

What the hell do you want from me, dog?

Unbelievable. I’ll never understand.

Remember the Top 5 Things Women Can Get Away With—But Men Can’t blog from a while ago?
What about the Things Women Can Get Away With—But Men Can’t (the cutting room floor) blog?

Well, here are 13 MORE Things Women Can Get Away With—But Men Can’t:

Turning down sex: When a dude gets shot the hell down for trying to “get some” late at night, we just have to accept that shyt. Grin and bear it. If a woman gets her sexual advances declined—it shatters her fragile ego to the point that she has to launch a full-scale internal investigation as to the reasons why (he’s a DL brotha, he doesn’t find me attractive anymore, he’s just not that into me, etc).

Never having to take out the garbage: Something a man will never be heard asking his significant other, “Honey, can YOU take out the garbage?” Bottom line: if there’s a man around, a woman ain’t NEVER gon’ take out the garbage. EVER!

Not owning a car: Fellas, when’s the last time a woman picked YOU the hell up for a date? Can’t remember? Wanna know why? ‘Cause it ain’t never happened.

Gossiping: Can y’all really trust a dude who’s on TMZ all day and runs around talkin’ about everybody else’s business?

Sneaking food into the movie theater in the summer: The ONLY time we actually like women’s purses.

Not knowing how to fix a car: Ain’t no thang if a woman can’t fix her ride—they’ll just call a man to do it. If a guy can’t fix a car—His manhood is questioned.

Having a successful, high-paying career based solely on the size of your booty: My ass is pretty big—but ain’t nobody offering me tons of money for videos, calendars, club appearances, etc.

Using the opposite sex’s bathroom in public: I’ve been to concerts where the women have used our bathrooms because their line is too damn long. And it’s acceptable? If I tried to use the women’s bathroom? I’d be “escorted” out by a team of 300-pound security guards and removed from the premises.

Having 99% of their friends be of the opposite sex: When’s the last time you heard a dude say, “Mostly all of my friends are women. I just don’t get along with guys”?

Becoming a celebrity by making a sex tape with a famous person: If I could get rich and famous by making a sex tape with Whoopi Goldberg—I still wouldn’t do it.

Having a ménage a trios’ with a member of the same sex: If by chance I ever end up being included in a threesome, another dude is NOT gon’ be participating.

Wearing fake hair: A gentleman with a toupee or hairpiece is a laughingstock. A joke. But women with weave encompass more than 50% of the female population.

Getting aroused in public without anyone knowing: If I happen to get a boner at work (it has happened before), I have to stay at my desk until that muhfukka goes down? Women? They can stroll around the office with hard nipples and moisture—and no one would be the wiser.

I caught this older lady staring at me the other day.

I’d just left the dollar store when I noticed her walking through the parking lot—lookin’ right in my car. She looked kinda familiar (an older sista) but I couldn’t figure out why, exactly. Seemed like she wanted to come over and say something, but I guess she decided against it and kept it movin’.

That was odd, I thought.

It wasn’t until I pulled off that I remembered why she looked familiar: ol’ girl had approached me before. 

It was about a year ago.

I was in the Bally Total Fitness parking lot when that same lady approached my car.
She was loud and incoherent—asking if I had a few dollars to spare.
Said she’d had surgery, but her son didn’t pick her up afterwards.
Now she’d have to walk home—unless she could get some bus fare.
She even showed me the disgusting, post-surgery buildup on her arm to confirm her story.

I felt kinda sorry for her to be stranded out there on a hot-ass day. I had a couple dollars in my pocket. Would I really miss a couple bucks?

I decided to give her the three dollars.

She thanked me. Then walked away.

I felt good about myself for helping someone in need.
That’s never a bad thing, right?

Minutes later, I finished my protein shake and went to grab my gym bag when I noticed somethin’ strange.

Ol’ girl was talking to someone else in another car a few feet away.
I thought it was odd. When she walked off earlier, I assumed she was goin’ to the bus stop.
To use the money I gave her to get home. If that were the case, then why would she—

I put two and two together: she was askin’ them for money too.

Son of a bytch!

She didn’t just leave the hospital—she was probably walking through the Winston Mall parking lot all day.

Giving folks that same spiel—tryin’ to make ‘em feel sorry for her. So they’d give her money.

And I fell for it.

I got GOT!

Gat dammit!

I was furious! Ol’ girl played me—and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
I should’ve gone the hell over there and took my shyt back.
‘Cause times are too hard—stakes are too high—in this downtrodden Bush economy for me to givin’ out free money.

But instead of confronting ol’ girl, I just went into the gym and took out my anger on the weights.

So imagine my surprise when I saw ol’ girl roaming that same parking lot—a year later.

I thought about it: she probably does the same shyt every weekend. Goin’ around askin’ good folks for money to catch the bus ‘cause her son didn’t pick her up after surgery. That’s probably how she makes “a living”—off other people’s charity.

She was probably about to approach me again—until she remembered that she got my stupid ass already.

I learned a valuable lesson: no matter how much of a nice guy I am, sometimes you just can’t help folks.

‘Cause some people live off of others’ good will—their sense of responsibility to help those in need.

Not too long ago a dude asked for money because his car broke down: “NO!”

Last week a lady asked for 80 cents to get on the bus: “NO!”
(why the hell would you come downtown without enough money to get home?)

Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice…