Watercolor on paper. Copyright 2011 Totsymae

Last night, I was minding my own business and got to cruising Facebook. I stumble on this question that asks, “What can a woman do to find a good man?” Folks, that will be our topic of discussion for this session. After our discussion, you have the option to hit me up with a donation if you deem my from-the-streets advice worthy of a piece of your pocket change. I’ll also take donations of the paper medium too. Picky ain’t my middle name.

Now. First off, I’m bothered by the question itself, to be right honest with you. Maybe I don’t care as much about a relationship. Maybe I simply don’t know enough about the game. Whatever. I’m just real bothered by women pursuing men folk. Only second to working to put food on the table, how to hose a man down and make him theirs is a prime topic that women are talking about. I’m not a male basher but I just don’t think it’s that serious.

Sure, it’s a right nice thing to have a fella to hold your hand and let you know you could use a bit of lotion to soften up the rough spots. I’m even okay with a little snoring and a leg being thrown on me that might stir me awake. And he can criticize my cooking all he wants, just as long as he can replace what I burned with something edible. Those things are nice and all to have but I think it’s kinda grinding my nerves that women folk put so much stock into a man rounding out the picture of happiness. I mean, for quite a few men, they can be content with having a woman every now and then. If women took on the same attitude, like they didn’t give a damn, a man is gonna come atcha. They don’t like to be chased and hunted down like prey, the way women are going about it now. Shit, ease the hell up and suck on a popsicle or something. A lot of what women are chasing after ain’t even worth the chase no how.

I just don’t like women folk being out there all willy nilly and making men the center of everything that’s important. Single women folk out there, and those married ones who’ve got single friends, here’s a round of advice I want to share for those times that you’ve created in your mind as hard ass times ’cause you ain’t got no man and don’t think you’ll ever have one:

1. If need be, purchase your ass some pretty stationary. Spray perfume all over it too and get yourself a pen pal from your local jail cell. Write your ass a letter and mail it off with a photo of you with your tongue licking on your finger. Shit, some of you out here doing it anyway. You’ll have a plethora of fan mail too. I mean, some women are so easily entertained. aren’t they? Just do that shit before you get wrapped up in the real thing and end up knee-deep in the shit of a real relationship like so many women do. I’m sure the stamps, paper and your trips to the post office will be less costly and you can invest as much or little time as you wish ’cause everything will be on your terms. You’ll also be in control the way some of you like to be anyway.
2. Buy yourself some boxers and walk around the house in them without anything else on. Order yourself some pizzas, have a six-pack and don’t throw the pizza boxes away for a week. Hell, invite your single BFFs over so they can sit around in their boxers with you. Enjoy your singlehood the way men do and stop walking around like somebody’s got you by the tits and holding your happiness hostage.  I’m telling you, it ain’t that serious.
3. And if numbers 1 and 2 absolutely ain’t gonna do it for you, hell, start reading the obituaries. Wives die sometimes and there’s a spot you can fill. I know that ain’t sounding good on my part but that’s a reality we all gotta face. Plus, I know every last one of you may know somebody or heard tell of some woman making special house calls after a man’s lost his other half. Shit, I’m just  putting it out there on the for real tip. You can even get on the web and read up on this kinda information, I’m sure. Use technology to your advantage and get your ass a ticket to fly out to that funeral. You could pretend to be that long lost friend from the nursery school. Shit, he won’t know the difference. His face will be too deeply buried and crying between your breasts to think otherwise. Just remember to spray a light whiff of perfume in the crease of your bosom to intoxicate his ass and cook him up a good meal. Keep in mind, he’s weak and you want to get him at his most vulnerable moment to make him yours. Ain’t that much worse than any other trap out there.

I’m sorry to say but at the moment, I don’t take credit cards. I’m trying to keep the overhead down and the government outta my business. Call my little operation bootleg if you want but come on folks, think of some women you know. This post is at least worth a dollar, ain’t it?

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