I hate that the word "Partner" is synonymous with gay people

This entry is basically do to my frustration to the fact that there is no appropriate word/title for a man approaching 40 to call the woman he’s in a monogamous relationship with.

I do realize that most people settle on “girlfriend” and move on, but I have a problem with that word. If I’m dating someone over 25 I don’t consider her a girl anymore. “Girlfriend” removes the gravity and seriousness for the relationship.

Some use the word “friend” but that is loose and vague. You introduce a woman as “friend”, and you’re just opening the door for problems, and closing the door on sex that night.

Over the last 10 years or so “boo” has been used. I basically consider this word racial, sophomoric, and ridiculous. Plus it’s the abbreviation for booty call. Didn’t know that did you? I can’t even use the word “boo” without throwing up a little bit.

The term “old lady” is disrespectful, and could be inaccurate. If I’m dating a 23 year old she doesn’t want to be called that, and if I’m dating a 50 year old she definitely doesn’t want to be called that. Also see “friend” for sexual repercussions.

“Shorty” is hood.
“Baby Mama” is disgusting.
“Honey Bunny” makes me think of “Pulp Fiction” and robbing a diner.

“Lover” is very adult and very European, but I don’t think America is ready for it. Plus when you introduce a woman to someone I don’t think she automatically wants everyone to know that you are putting your “P” in her “V” on a regular basis.

“Significant Other” is gay, which leads me to my problem. Last week I’m ending my vacation. I’m at Miami Airport half sleep at the gate, waiting for my Atlanta flight to start boarding. I overhear two gay couples chatting it up, and the conversation is replete with the word “partner”.

And it hits me. “Partner” should be our word. “Partner” very eloquently describes an adult committed relationship between a man and a woman who are partnering in the middle stage of their life. Why do the gays get to have “significant other” which they seem to not want anymore, and get to own “partner” when that is the perfect word for straight people? Is there any way we can get this word back?

I need this word. I may not ever get married. I can’t go on for the next 20-30 years avoiding a word that is so obviously perfect for me. What I’ve resorted to over the last decade is just introducing the woman by her first name and no title, but that makes the woman a little uneasy sometimes.

Now that I think of it, the reason why bachelors in their midlife submit to marriage is because they get tired or being mocked. They have gray hair, gray pubes, bald spots, creaky knees, bad backs, and don’t feel young enough to continue to use the term “girlfriend” anymore. They get tired of feeling icky so they surrender, go traditional, and marry the woman because “wife” sounds more grown up and mature. If only the gays would give us back “partner” or single women would let us call them “wife”.

I hate people that say "Good Question!"

Ever been watching C-SPAN, the Book Channel, or some innocuous press conference and see someone behind a dais fielding questions. That person behind the dais must be important to have people taking time out of their busy lives to come, and gather at the foot of the dais to witness him/her speak. Right? The dais represents the great divide between a reservoir of information (those sitting behind the dais), and information seekers (those sitting before the dais).

If aliens landed in this setting they would instantly know, for lack of a better term, the hierarchy of the room. It would be apparent, the very embodiment of the haves, and the have-nots.

Those behind the dais “have”, and those before the dais “have-not”.

So, the next time you see one of these things on TV, stay on it for a while. You’ll hear 4 or 5 queries posed by the “have-nots”, and the “have” will rattle off answers to those questions. Then something interesting will happen, a “have-not” will ask a question, and the “have” will pause, direct his eyes skyward, look down, and then say, “THAT’S A GOOD QUESTION”.

For a split second you feel good for the person that asked the question. He/she must be intelligent because a question was posed that got a big “gold star” attached to it. After the “have” announces the “good question” line he/she then begins to answer the question as if he/she had a prepared answer at the ready. And this is only due to the fact that he/she DID have a prepared answer at the ready.

A good question, if it were truly good, would stump the “have”. If the question were truly above average, there would be some hesitation or vacillation on the part of the “have”. A good question would garner some type of delay to the answer wouldn’t it?

What is simply happening, in this instance, is the “have” has played a Jedi Mind Trick on us. Most “haves” aspire to genius status so they use the “good question” trick to artificially raise the bar so when they answer the “good question” on the spot it makes them appear smarter than what they are. They announce the “good question” because they need everyone in the room to make the jump with them.

So the next time someone says “good question” to you, your follow up question should be “Why do you consider my initial question to be good?”

And for these next level tools out here that use the “great question” line, there is no hope for you.

Please die….Already!

I hate Jean Robert Bellande aka (BrokeLivingJRB)

I’ve grown to enjoy the game of Poker over the years, and with the advent of televised pokers events, I’ve grown to enjoy watching poker pros play poker on TV. I don’t know about you, but if I’m observing any competition I like to choose sides. It’s makes the event more compelling if I have a rooting interest. Over time I’ve chose my favorite players based on their skill, style, and likeability. My favorite players in order are Phil Ivey, Joe Hachem, Eli Elezra, and Jean Robert Bellande. Bellande less for his poker acumen, and more for his demeanor and personality. I root for him because he’s an underdog. He’s not a very successful poker player, but he lives a lavish lifestyle based mostly off of the people he knows, and not the pots that he has pulled.

Bellande is the everyman poker player. He wears his heart on his sleeve. He updates his fan on his twitter account and lets us know, on a regular basis, what his current bankroll stands at. I’ve seen him take some very bad beats and would often think that if this guy could summons some good luck, he could be a very successful poker player. I believed this up until last week when I saw him make the dumbest poker move I’ve every witnessed in life.

Bellande was playing on NBC’s Poker After Dark in a 100K cash game. He was playing well above the level his bankroll would dictate. He had no real edge in the game. He was playing 6-handed against. Chris Ferguson (WSOP Main Event Champion) Mike Matusow (3 WSOP Main Event final tables), Michael Mizrachi (WSOP Final Table in ’10, and multi final tables in the WPT), Brandon Adams, and Peter Jetten, very good poker players in their own right. Phil Hellmuth 11 times WSOP champion also rotated into the game. In my opinion he was the 6th best player in a 6-handed line up. Everyone at the table knew that if Bellande got felted he didn’t have money to rebuy. So Bellande has at least three strikes against him before the first hand is dealt. This puts him at a huge disadvantage.

I understand that poker players have egos so Bellande probably thought he could outplay these guys or catch a heater, and run his bankroll up. I was pulling for Bellande, and then he did one of the most inexplicable things I’ve ever seen. Blinds are $200/$400. Jetten opens light for $1400, Hellmuth flat called with 44, and then Bellande flatted on the button with AQ offsuit. Ferguson in the big blind wakes up with AK, and raises to $6900, Jetten folds, Hellmuth flats again (looking to flop a set), and then Bellande totally misreads Ferguson for weak and sticks another $36000 in the pot. Ferguson correctly put Bellande on a weak-ish holding. The very best hand Bellande could have at this moment is JJ. No one in his or her right mind would overcall a $1400 raise in position with AA, KK, or QQ. Bellande made an amateur play. He thought that his raise looked strong, but it actually looked very weak. A call would have looked stronger in that spot.

Also Bellande didn’t properly analyze the hand. Ferguson hadn’t showed a bluff all night, and the worst hand he could have had in that position is AQ. Which he would be willing to gamble with if he puts Bellande on JJ. Bellande has very little chance of making Ferguson fold. So Ferguson does the right thing and 5 bets Bellande all in. Bellande has $50000 left. In my opinion he had enough fold equity to lay it down. AQ vs AK is a 27% favorite. He still has well over 120 BB’s left in the match. But because he hates himself he put all the money he has in life in the middle hoping that Ferguson had a hand like 88 or 99. Then he compounds the error by not running the board multiple times to improve his chances. Bellande proves in this hand that he will always be a losing poker player. The 4 bet, calling the 5 bet, and not running it twice are mistakes an amateur makes not a professional. I’m officially off the JRB bandwagon. I can’t watch people I root for choke so badly in these spots.

I hate that Len Bias died

Yesterday marked the 25th Anniversary of the death of Len Bias. Many don’t know who Len Bias was, and to me that’s the shame of the entire matter.

Len Bias was the best college basketball player in 1986, and on the verge of going to the NBA and dominating. He was a freakish athlete. Imagine this. The size of Lebron, the hops of Jordan, and the shooting touch of Bird.

If you think I’m exaggerating ask Michael Wilbon, Tony Kornheiser, James Brown, and the like. He was a can’t miss prospect. He would have gone to the NBA and averaged 20, 8, and 5 in his first year.

The crazy thing about the NBA was that the Boston Celtics, who had just won the 1986 NBA championship, had maneuvered to get a chance at drafting Bias. They used the high draft pick they had and drafted Bias. He would have played alongside; Bird, McHale, Parrish. They would have been unstoppable.

Let’s play the what-if games for a moment. If Bias had lived another 10 years these occurrences would have been highly probable.

No attempt at a three-peat for Magic and the Showtime Lakers.
No repeat for Isiah and the Bad Boy Pistons.
No 1st three-peat for Jordan, and the Bull.
No Jordan retirement in 93’.
No repeat for Olajuwon, and the Rockets.
Bill Russell, not Jordan, would still be widely considered the G.O.A.T.


Unfortunately Bias didn’t live past June 19, 1986. I remember exactly what I was doing when I heard the news. I had just finished 8th grade and summer break was about 3 days old. I was lying in bed thinking about going downstairs to make my breakfast of champions (Sugar Smacks, and Pop-Tarts).

I was also thinking about a conversation I had the night before with one of my buddies. I’m a huge 76ers fan, and Bias had just been drafted by the archrival Celtics. I had watched Bias the last 3 years, and I knew he was great. My buddy was a Celtics fan, and he kept saying the Celtic were going to dominate the 76ers now. I tried to argue with him, but knew in my heart he was right.

On the morning of the 19th my buddy called while I was still in bed thinking about Sugar Smacks. He told me Bias had died. Had to be a practical joke right? But I heard the seriousness in his voice. He told me to turn on the news. I ran downstairs, turned the TV on, and there it was. It’s was a nightmare. I just broke into tears. I couldn’t contain myself. It didn’t matter what team I was a fan of, in that moment, I was a fan of life, and I felt like we all were being cheated. I was a 14-year old kid that idolized a 22-year old basketball player.

I lost my innocence that day, and the world lost a great basketball talent. In my opinion, all due respect to Marcus DuPree, Len Bias is “the best that never was.”

Rest in Peace #34.

I hate that people don't understand the beauty of the Gentleman's Club

Why do most people assume only “thirsty” men go to Gentleman’s Clubs? If you’re not familiar with the term thirsty it’s a black colloquialism that means eager or wanting. The term is usually used in reference to a man that is “too” eager to advance physicality with someone he is attracted to.

This notion can be put to bed because many highly successful, attractive men with means frequent the Shoe Show! I have to assume that these guys have access to attractive women, and aren’t in a perpetual dehydrated state.

Many women hate that their men frequent the Show. Some men don’t understand the allure. I have a few buddies that say "why get yourself all excited when you have no chance of closing the deal."

I’m not even sure those of us that go to the Show, really know, on a mental level, why we love it so. It’s just natural, like eating, breathing, sleeping. It’s in our DNA. It’s innate, genetic, and feels right, so why fight it?

I’ll attempt, using MATH, to shed some light on the situation.

First men love the Show because it’s an alternative universe. Think about it. If you could enter a different dimension that suspended disbelief, and was basically a “Bizarro” world on steroids, wouldn’t you want to take that trip?

Add to that that your safety is not compromised in any real way, and that you could leave said “Bizarro” world at any time without any negative repercussions.

Multiply that by the fact that you can go with your favorite people, and share the experience with them.

Divide this by the fact that you can enter this world for about the same amount of money that it would cost you to have lunch at Panera Bread.

Equals - NO BRAINER! You’re going!

Now, I consider the Show an alternative universe because of the social engineering that takes place once the door frame is compromised. The male-female dynamic is totally flipped. In most real life cases, men initiate communication between men and women, but in “Bizarro” world the roles are eloquently flipped. The woman is the catalyst. This is appealing to men.

Also the cash and carry economics appeal to men. The rules are set. If you order a lap dance off the menu it costs a standard amount. In our personal lives we date, and we don’t have any clue what a lap dance will cost us. We keep paying for things but never truly know when our laps are going to have a little extra company. It’s a Ponzi Scheme. Money goes in at your own risk with no guarantee of returns.

The male bonding aspect of the Gentlemen Club experience cannot be overlooked. Men are spectators by nature. We love to watch together when the outcome of an event is hanging in the balance. We love sports because of its competitive nature. On many levels the Gentlemen Club compares favorably to a sporting venue. The men go to be entertained, adult beverages are served, the dancers wear uniforms and are in competition with each other, and outcomes are unknown.

You never know what you’re going to see at the Show. I once met a woman that, up until that point, was an idea in my head. A figment of my imagination, if you will. In my mind the most attractive amalgamation of female genetics, strictly based on looks, is a mixture of Black and Asian (65%-35%). If it were not for the Show, on that fateful night in Cleveland Ohio, I would have never had the pleasure of meeting a Blasian Woman. The Blasian Woman was my mystical unicorn. Missing that would have hurt me in an unknown spiritual way. I’m thankful for not having to experience that pain.

Side bar. Blasian is the much hotter cousin of (Blackanese) the oft-used term that essentially means the same thing.

One of the most beautiful aspects of the show is that, on occasion, it gives us a glimpse at our most self-actualized counterparts. One of the most exciting occurrences at the Show is when a woman transforms into a force of nature and creates her own “Hot Spot” giving us all the ability to connect to her “Wi-Fi.” It’s amazing.

There is a point when the stage is full of beautiful women, the music is right, and the air is filled with expectations. The energy is out of control, and we are approaching a breach. A confident woman, in the distance, steps to the forefront, takes the lead and becomes a human conduit. She begins dancing right where she is. The electric current seeks her out. She is in control of everything that is happening in that time and space. All eyes are on her, and we can’t look away. The connection is unmistakable. She becomes one with the night, the music, the energy, and the moment. In this dimension woman is self actualized, and we (all of us) are living through her.

SEEING WOMAN IN THAT STATE IS THE ESSENCE OF BEAUTY AND WHY MEN CAN'T STAY OUT OF THE GENTLEMAN’S CLUB!

I hate that Stacey Dash has found the "Fountain of Youth" and hasn't divulged its locale

Stacey Dash has to be the hottest 45 year-old on record. I challenge anyone to identify something hotter.

I usually reserve my blog entries for very serious matters like, arguments for strengthening phone etiquette, debating hierarchy of sports lists, and sharing personal pet peeves; real heady stuff. However today I will make a fun exception and give a well-deserved shout out to a freak of nature.

I had kind of forgotten about Dash. I first saw her in “Clueless”. She was 29 year old in real life then playing a 17 year old. She’s hasn’t done a lot of mainstream work recently. So you know…. “Out of sight…..Out of mind.”

Monday night I had just returned home from a cross-country trip. I had spent time in St Louis, and Las Vegas over the previous 3 days, and got very little sleep. As I was driving home from the airport I was craving my bed, and looking forward to at least 8 hours of make out time with my pillow. I get home, unpack the truck, head up to the bed, fall in, and then commence to stare at the ceiling for 2 hours. I hate it when that happens! My mind could not shut off.

I turn on the TV to change the mood, start flipping through the channels, and there it was. A blue lace dress with a black goddess sown in it. Don’t get me wrong this isn’t me being creepy, it's just me appreciating something that seems to be timeless. This woman looks the same. Scratch that. This woman looks better than she looked 15 years ago.

Stacey, if you’ve found the fountain of youth please don’t keep it to yourself. I was taught growing up that “Caring is Sharing.” We need this! Looking forward to being amazed 5 years from now when you turn 50!

I hate my brain (sometimes)

The first song I ever remember hearing was the Supremes classic “Why do fools fall in love?” I remember being driven to school by my mom and hearing those words, “Why do they fall in love”. The tune was so catchy, so alive, so bouncy, I looked around the car to see if it was having the same impression on my brother that it was having on me. It wasn’t. To him it was just another song playing on the radio, but to me it was more than that. For some weird reason, that song spoke to me. It moved me. It touched me. From that day forward fools and love were synonymous. Anytime I heard the word love, I thought about fools and then I would ask why?

Why be foolish when you don’t have to be. Being a fool can’t be a good thing. Right? So why are we so hell bent on being one? Why are we in such a rush to become a fool? Why is that side of the highway so full and why is the other side, the side I’m on so empty.

I’m distant. I like space. I wouldn’t say I’m cold, but I can be a little chilly from time to time. This is how I deal with people. On the other hand, I start to get really passionate when it comes to ideas, concepts, and theorem. I guess you can say I’m a cerebral guy. How many four year olds do you know that can dissect the essence of “Why do fools fall in love?”

One could deduce from my bio that I have some intimacy issues. I do.

I’m a classic case. I come from a broken home. My mom and pop split when I was three years old. My grandparents have been together for over four decades but they hate each other. I’ve witnessed every type of argument imaginable. I’ve witnessed adultery, I’ve witnessed drunken stoopers, I’ve witnessed neglect, and I’ve witnessed abuse. I affectionately call this the “rainbow of dysfunction.” Seeing all this has helped my development as a person. I’ve gotten to see the seamy underbelly of relationships. So to me there was no place to go but up.

The funny thing about it is that you would think that all that would have turned me into some type of stereotypical man that just perpetuated all the negative things that he grew up with, but it hasn’t. In a weird profound way it has made me more determined to be a good man, to be honest with myself, and to be honest with others. The most important thing that it has taught me is to really know what I want, and not to settle for what is readily available. The common denominator in my parents, and my grandparents’ relationship is that they settled for something they didn’t want and ultimately made themselves unhappy because of it.

My mom was a free spirit; she was all over the place. My pop was conservative. My grand mom was ultraconservative, and my grandfather, well he is just off the chain. With this information alone, an outsider with little knowledge of either couple could tell you that happiness wasn’t in the cards. I’m not going to say that happiness was an impossibility; I’m just going to say that the odds weren’t in their favor. But you know what, they did nothing to improve those odds.


Through my observations, I’ve learned that unhappy is a decision not a consequence. All this reality strengthened my resolve to find real solutions and not to just go in the way of conformity. I learned that ordinary people conform while extraordinary people move the bar everyday.

So I became a student of people. I’ve watched, and observed every person that has come in out gone out of my life. I study them. I study how they talk, and what they do, and whom they know, and how all those thing meld into who they are and how they handle their relationships.

I think this is where it started for me. I observed so much that I became distant. I started to see people as subjects. There is a side of me that sees people as experiments. I often wonder how they will respond given variable changes. It’s kind of sick. My brain is mapped differently. It started young. I saw a stone-faced cold person in the mirror one day and embraced him. I didn’t run away. I liked him. He was me, and he was all I was given to survive and thrive in this world. Maybe I should have run but I didn’t.

I’d witness friends and family falling apart emotionally over things that seemed trivial to me. This was sad, but what was worse was how those emotional downfalls led to bad decision, and those bad decisions circled right back to emotional downfalls. My only way to escape this ring was to love my brain and breakup with my heart. It’s the gift/curse paradox. Those Greeks were on to something. Now I live and don’t feel regrets or remorse, but I wonder sometimes am I truly living. Emotions are all around me and I’m immune to them. I couldn’t catch an emotion if it sneezed on me, got mixed in my food or had unprotected sex with me. The ones I love and the ones that love me have them, and I often find myself thinking about what they are feeling.

Now I’m 38, and my brain is on autopilot. Years of conditioning have made it unstoppable. I’m so attached to it. It’s my identity. It’s who I am. I don’t know what I would be without it. I recently tried to change it. I really tried. I wanted to see how other people lived. I wanted to be one of them. Get along. Connect. Right when I was starting to change I ran. I wasn’t sure I wanted to break up. I got cold feet. I starting thinking I’m too old to change who I am. Would I like the change? Would I hate myself for tampering with the gift? Or even worse, what if I lost my uniqueness and became ordinary? In a world of over 6 billion people a man needs to be unique right?


You know, now that I look back on it, I’ve never been normal. I mean, I’ve never thought about things the way my contemporaries have. If everyone is going left then I want to go right. I don’t trust the crowd. I don’t believe they are thinkers. I believe the crowd is no more than a bunch of followers. Mindless robots.


Speaking of mindless robots, I’m a religious man. I was born and raised in the church. I continue to go because I believe in God, and that His teachings complete us. I’m a member of a nationwide church that has small congregations all over the country. In my heart, I believe, that religion is good and that it can make the world a better place. So in that regard I guess you could say I’m committed to God. It’s funny because I think He’s the only thing I can commit to. It’s easy to commit to Him. I never have to see Him. I have scheduled times when I worship Him. He never asks me how I feel about Him. He never needs extra attention, or for me to ask Him how His day went. Our relationship is great because He’s low maintenance.

I’ve been in several relationships. Although they never last long, I can truly say I’ve enjoyed all of them. I don’t regret any of them. They’ve all been great learning experiences for me. Funny thing is I never know if women like me because of my uniqueness or in spite of it.