Storytime, Again

Let's go back in time, to a magical place called The Mecca, where a younger, a slightly more rotund Big Man was seeking an education and sex. Not necessarily in that order.

My brother likes to say that I've always had a bit of "Betty Crocker" in me. For you folks not from the South, that means I'm a "cake baker" or the kind of cat that has been known to spend an unacceptable amount of time or effort in trying to have intercourse with unworthy females. I wasn't a full-blown "trick", but I've been known to make some questionable choices.

Anyway, back in the day, I made a date with a young lady who would eventually go on to be my wife. I'd been plotting on this woman for quite some time, but had held off on talking to her because I thought she was still dating a cat I played football with in high school. We weren't close enough friends that I wouldn't date her after they were through, but we were cool enough that I wasn't going to try to cuckold dude.

Anyway, I finally found out that Future Wife and Former Teammate were dunzo, and I made my move. Got the digits, used them to make plans for a movie date, and then began to wait for the Magic Hour.

Unfortunately, as I prepared for our outing, disaster struck in the form of my male ego and my ridiculous cheapness. Up to this point, I'd had some less than favorable experiences with taking young ladies out to what were considered "nice places" in college. By "less than favorable", I mean I wasn't getting the drawers. (Shout out to Martin Lawrence.)

Now, most likely this was due to other flaws in my game, not to a gold-digger mentality among these women, but, like many men, I didn't notice my flaws and instead blamed it on the women. I was young.

As I contemplated this state of affairs, I decided that I wasn't going to spend any money on Future Wife, and would instead invite her to have a Blockbuster night as our first date. By my logic, this was a good way to see if she was after my meager stacks or a decent young lady.

Sadly, when I broached this change of plans, Future Wife refused, and I would later learn that she was very sad that I saw her as a Blockbuster-in-the-dorm room kind of girl. We would eventually move past this in the months to come, but that's a story for a different day.

Anyway, I spun that yarn because I read a piece recently on the blog "Black and Bourgie" about the "pay to play" dynamic. Basically, the idea that men expect sex whenever they spend a certain amount of money on a woman. Each man has a different threshold, but apparently, all of us have a threshold. The blog post looked at the issue of what is an acceptable situation to have this expectation and what is not.

This issue fascinates me. I remember discussing this concept with my wife, and actually being horrified that she felt that it was reasonable for a man to expect sex if he spent money on her when she was younger. The fact that I was horrified might seem a little strange, since I had broken our very first date because I had the exact same expectations of women, but let me explain.

Like many men, what I WANTED to happen when it came to me getting the drawers, was not the same thing as I would RESPECT a woman for doing.

Does that make sense?

Sure, I would have loved for every woman to agree that a trip to the Cheesecake Factory was the Golden Ticket to parting some hairs, but I doubt I would have respected the women who made that choice. Like many young men, what I wanted from a woman was at odds with what I thought was respectable.

I know ladies, men are just as crazy as y'all.

Coming back to pay to play issues, I think that most men feel like if a woman allows us to spend money on them, particularly a lot of money, they should show some appreciation. And not that pat-on-the-back, "You are so sweet" kind of appreciation either. We want to know that you understand that for many men, spending our money is just as big of a deal as you laying down with us. Particularly for a cheap bastard like me, and my ilk.

But, on the flipside, we don't really want it confirmed that a woman we have actual feelings for, is up for sale. I mean, no man wants to know that the woman he cares about has a price tag. The next question in our minds, at least in my mind, becomes, "Who else can meet the price?"

Just like the always dangerous discussion about who many folks have notched your headboard, letting a man know that you think certain expenditures guarantee sex is a dicey move. Sure, you might have a cat who agrees with your sex threshold, but it's just as likely you'll find someone who finds your cost-benefit-analysis hopelessly skewed too high or too low.

My advice is that women should never reveal that any expenditure means guaranteed sex, and they should never reveal that they had this idea in the past. Avoid this conversation, or debate, the same way you avoid the "numbers" question.

In addition, women should be very careful about how much money they allow a man to spend on them because an uneven exchange of funds has to be balanced out at sometime. Yes, free meals and gifts are nice, but the first rule of economics is that there are "no free lunches." Your tab is growing, and you have no idea how the man you're dealing with is expecting you to settle up.

For men, I would say never spend your money expecting sex. It's a losers' gamble. If a woman doesn't pay out, all you have left is complaining and whining and that's definitely not going to get you any cat. If you're spending money on a woman, just look at it as a loan to your momma. That money has no strings, and no expectation of return.

Finally, on last thing for the fellas. Always have a really good explanation when your wife asks why you thought she was only worth a Blockbuster night on y'all's first date.

Trust me on that.




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