Despite my relatively sympathetic entry about the Schwarzenegger situation the other day, my utter abhorrence for cheating is well-documented. I’ve written about it numerous times, included a couple chapters solely devoted to this abhorrence in our book, and even distanced myself from a few friends because of their habitual cheating. But, while my feelings about this subject are well-known, the impetus behind these thoughts has never been made public…at least until today.
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It stems back to the second semester of my sophomore year in college. I became enthralled with Concepcion Jenkins — a fellow sophomore — and everything about her. Her laugh, her booty, her knack for well-timed (and surprisingly undetectable) spades renigging, her endless collection of Old Navy bubblegooses (or is this bubblegeese?), the fact that she was a black girl from Detroit with a name that was maybe 85% too Hispanic, everything. And, after I allowed her to buy an omelet with my meal plan when she was short on cash one day, the feeling was (almost) mutual. Although we hadn’t slept together yet, she’d always run up and grind on me if we were at a party and the Chi-Chi Man song came on, an act that somehow made everyone assume we were having sex. We had a complicated relationship.
Anyway, I actually met Concepcion through her best friend, Marisol (another chick from Detroit with a excessively Hispanic first name. What the hell is up with that city?) who happened to be dating one of my teammates (Frank) at the time. Now, Frank was a dog. In fact, Frank was such a dog that we wouldn’t even introduce this man to our mothers. (What? You think Delonte West was the first man to ever sleep with one of his teammate’s parents?)
Predictably, Frank messed around on Marisol, and she was very distraught. Of course Concepcion found out about this, and, after spending at least a week consoling an a bit too tearful and dramatic Marisol (I mean, I understand that she was upset, but they were only dating for like 5 weeks! No need to be dropping out of class and shit), they made some sort of “black chicks from Detroit with Hispanic first names” pact to never date athletes again. No more Concepcion time for the young Champ. Drats!
Anyway, Frank’s inability to keep it in his pants gave me the “dog” brand by osmosis, messed up my dating prospects, and forced me to forever feel a certain way about people who cheat with no conscience. Habitual cheaters like him are just one of the many types of lame dudes who ruin dating for everyone else, and here’s 4 more.
2. The Lame dude who posts every single thing they do with their significant other on Facebook
How does she (yes, 99.99999% of the time, this lame dudes is a she) ruin things for everyone else?
Well, this Mistress of Lameness surely has friends who follow her Facebook feeds. These friends see her perpetually bubbly updates (“Oh My God! He just drove all the way to my job just to bring me a bowl of Wheaties! Thank you God for this man!!!“) and, predictably, these friends wonder why their men aren’t bringing them bowls of Wheaties to work and shit. Feelings are hurt, panties are bunched, and men end up spending the entire day wondering why he just got a random “I think we need to talk” text from his girl.
Not to be out-done…
3. The Lame dude who does waaaaay too much for their mate
How does he (yes, 99.99999% of the time, this lame dude is a he) ruin things for everyone else?
This is the cat who does a 60 mile u-turn just because his “baby forgot her phone charger,” the asshole who tags himself on his girlfriend’s heart in each of her Facebook pictures, the piece of shit who’s the reason why his chick is making every other chick green with tales of his otherworldly awesomeness. While regular guys are taking women to the mall food court or the Walmart sushi bar, this dude is flying first dates to Aruba.
What makes it even worse is the fact that these guys are usually serial monogamists, so while you’ve actually managed to get past the honeymoon relationship period and you’re knee deep in reality, this dude is hopping from chick to chick every six to eight months, ruining the relationship expectation curve, and making every man aware of his treachery want to spray a can of Tinactin in his eye.
4. The Lame dude who hasn’t been happy since the season premiere of Boomtown, and seems intent on ruining dating for everyone else
How do they ruin things for everyone else?
Calling this person a turd in the punchbowl would be a gross understatement. They’re a shit in the milk carton, a cockroach on the wedding cake, the cat urine on your toothbrush. Their life sucks, they hate each and every member of the opposite sex, and they won’t relent until you share their feelings.
They’re your friend so you don’t cut them off, but their relentless melancholy ends up affecting you by osmosis. Before you know it, you find yourself trolling message boards and blogs at night, fabricating reasons to explain exactly why black men, people who like black men, people who have sex with black men, and people who’ve given birth to black men aint shit.
5. The Lame dude in your crew who always have a curfew
How do they ruin things for everyone else?
It’s Friday night, you just got paid, and you’re ready to go hit the clubs with your homegirls. You get there at 10 to take advantage of the “all women with green thongs get half-off mojitos before 11″ special. By 11:00 the DJ has warmed up, you’re perfectly tipsy, a few cuties have just walked in, and…your homegirl tells everyone that she needs to get home by 11:30 so she won’t sleep through her 5:00 am knitting class again.
You can’t just tell her deuces because her lame ass drove, so you all have to pack in her Scion, angry, horny, and tipsy. So angry, horny, and tipsy that you decide to call your just-released 6th man booty call to take care of you. He comes through, gives you five and a half good pumps, bounces, and now you’re trolling blogs at night (again), writing 1000 word comments on 200 word entries about why humans with penises aint shit.