Swirling (Big ‘Uns @ 2 O’Clock!)

…continued…

I noted with quick satisfaction the arched left eyebrow of my daughter, and the clasped fingers of my wife. I knew them both like the palm of my hand; they were waiting to see my reaction to this. Would I stutter, shake, or, even worse, lick my lips?

Fret not, dear friends; this tale is being told by a Smoove Operator, First Class. One of the first things you learn in Smoove 101 is how to handle the Presence of Nubile Females in the Presence of Your Significant Other.

Rule: 1—Look Em’ In the Eye.

Rule: 2—Refer to Them as “Ma’am.”

In order to pass Smoove 101, you must master these two rules. Nothing, and I mean nothing is more distressing to a female than your inability to keep your eyes UP! I’m not sure why; seems like it would be an affirmation of the fact that she’s chosen a real man to converse with, but noooo, it’s not. One of those forever unsolvable mysteries, I suppose.

Anyhoo, I did. I looked that big-racked heifer in the eye, and said quizzically, “Ma’am?”

Well, my daughter relaxed a bit at that, her being a bit inexperienced and all, but you know my wife didn’t move a muscle. Not that I expected her to; I’ll give her props for that.

“Is that ersters you eatin’?” she repeated.

I merely nodded, and said, “Yes, Ma’am.” Rule #2 is there for a reason. Gives you the opportunity to let her know you’re not flirting, and gives you time to see where they’re coming from, if you get my drift.

“Is that true what they say about ersters?” she asked.

“Phhhht,” my wife said. I looked at her. She was asking for it, that’s for sure. But now wasn’t the time or the place. Besides, when we would discuss this later, I had to make certain that I held the high cards. Rookies, when you’re in this kind of situation, where a good-looking female is asking you questions in the presence of your Significant Other, you have two options…

One—Defer To Mate.

Response # 81B, Honey, What Do You Think? serves 2 purposes, namely, it takes you out of the conversation, and causes your mate to participate in her favorite activity, talking. Never forget Man Rule #2—Women Love To Talk. Remember, you can’t get in trouble for something she said. Well, yes, you can, but that’s another story.

Two—Shift to Lecture Mode.

This one is a bit tricky, and should not be attempted with any subject matter that can be construed as flirty or a double entendre, because guess what? You will be accused of being flirty, and every word will be taken as having a double meaning, and there is nothing you can say or do that will convince her otherwise. AND….This conversation will be played back to her girlfriends/mother/female relatives/etc/ad infinitum/ad nauseum, for the rest of your life. “This conversation” includes every facial expression, every lifted eyebrow, every pursed lip, every smile….

You get the idea.

So, what did I do?

I probably would have Deferred To Mate, but those two “Phhhhts” let me know that she would have said, “You know I don’t eat them, I really don’t know. You have to ask him,” causing me to squirt the hot sauce on her blouse, and the resulting, uh, conflict would not be good, not at all. You learn these things as you go.

So, I was stuck with Lecture Mode, which really wasn’t too difficult, just remember the basic rules: Eye-to-eye, begin every sentence with “Ma’am”, keep the sentences short. No smiling; an annoyed frown is the Default Expression. She’s not a pleasant interruption, she’s a bother to be quickly disposed of. Better rude than crude, got it?

Easy, right?

Ha!

to be continued…..

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Swirling! (Women Are All Alike)

I looked at White Guy, to see how he handled S.S.S.’s request for wine, oh, wait, I’m sorry, cold wine. Would he order it by the glass, or would he order a bottle, with a side of ice? More importantly, did he understand the ramifications of S.S.S. being served alcohol? I slurrrped another oyster, while Wife/Daughter munched their shrimp and pretended not to notice the swirling going on around them.

“Waiter,” W.G. said, holding up a finger and ordering while S.S.S. beamed. She did a lot of that. Beaming, I mean. I hoped she wasn’t one of those who enjoyed swirling just for the idea of having a Trophy From Another Race.

I was considering becoming annoyed with her, just on General Principle, but then she threw a move on W.G. that let me know she considered herself to be The Trophy. She shivered slightly, and said, “It’s a bit cool in here, don’t you think?” and hugged her…um…er…self (yeah, that’s it, her self!), effectively hiding all of God’s blessings from W.G….

But…

Subtly suggesting that the Glory of God could possibly be revealed, if…

IF…

He would sacrifice his jacket and hand it to her, no, drape it around her shoulders, making sure that Super Soul Sister was warm and comfortable for the duration of the SwirlDate. Would White Guy concede Super Soul Sister’s inherent Trophiness?

Would he???

Be not silly; White Guy almost broke his ankles sprinting over to Super Soul Sister; a moment later, his Ralph Lauren jacket nestled snugly against the puppies. Most of the men in the room envied ol’ Ralph.

Not me.

I said, not me. (Prove otherwise, or shush!!!)

“Humph!” Both of them, nearly simultaneously, but there was a sliiightly different tone to each of their individual grunts. My daughter’s had a slightly wistful note; I’d have to deal with that later. My wife…..hmmmmm…..I’m not sure. Regret? I looked at her; she sat pat with Expression #5—Neutral Boredom.

Like I said, hmmmmm…..

But, no time for all of that right now; White Guy was sprinting again…..

What now?

He really, really needed to spend more time in Smoove Operator class; all that sprinting leaves women, especially Black women, with the wrong idea about getting their needs fulfilled by men. Like, it’s actually possible for a man, especially a White man, to do.

Chile, please!

“That fool done went to the restroom,” my wife said.

That explained it. Cramping, while expected/accepted in women, is never, I repeat, never, tolerated by men; we must relieve it ASAP, especially in the presence of a female we have designs on. Add to the fact that this was his first journey into The Jungle…

Huh?

What now?!?

I meant The Jungle of Interracial Romance in general, not….

You people have issues!

And I’m not a therapist. Well, I am, but I’m not charging you therapist prices.

Hmmmm…..I should write a new book! Therapy For Wounded Black Women…now there’s a market just ripe for the picking!

Hey, I’m merely relating a story. Just keep reading, and stop it with all the sensitivity!

Does everything have to hurt your feelings???

That’s part of your problem, you know. You desire conversation, but you shun honesty; you seek intimacy, but you want it on your own terms. Men are afraid to show their true feelings with women who penalize them for the effort….but that’s another blog at another time.

Huh?

You’re saying that the use of the term “Jungle” is not an appropriate word to describe swirling?

O…………k.

(So, I suppose that the world of interracial dating is not fraught with seen and unseen dangers, emotional turmoil, filled with misunderstandings, ignorant stereotyping, old societal taboos, etc, etc??? Sounds like a jungle to me.)

Let me finish my story, and leave you to your tea and crumpets. Where was I?

Oh, yes, White Guy was sprinting to the restroom, using a gait I instantly recognized as Official Guy Reaction #2, I Got A Good Look At ‘Em, Now I Need To Adjust My Slacks. He’d be MIA for about 15 minutes, give or take a few. Depends on how long it was since the last time he’d seen some.

(Guys reading this are nodding their heads. We’ve all been there.)

“Why is he walking like that?” my daughter asked.

“He has to relieve himself, baby,” I gently answered.

“Phhhtttt,” my wife muttered. She wiped her lips with her napkin, and went back to Expression #5. Yes, we definitely needed to talk later.

“Excruse me,” a voice said, “is that ersters you eatin’?” I turned, and found myself face-to-face with Estrogen Valley. While I was watching the rapidly vanishing figure of White Guy, Super Soul Sister had gotten out of her chair and came over to where I was sitting, strategically (I suppose) parking them big ‘uns riiiight where I could see ‘em……

(Guys: Never mind how they looked. Go read your Bible, you heathens!)

(Black Women: No, I did not have to go to the restroom!)

(White Women: “Ersters” are referring to one of several Ebonic pronunciations of “oysters,” including “icesters,” “oisters,” and, of course, the more common, “What the hell is that nasty-lookin’ stuff? You been datin’ White wimmens ag’in?”)

Ha!

…to be continued…

Interracial Dating–Keeping Female In Check!

“Rats!” I thought, inwardly grimacing. I had forgotten Man Rule #17c—Never Refute Female Criticism of Another Female. A Rookie Husband might have had to fall on his sword, but, of course, not moi.  In my book, Keeping the Females Who Infest Your House In Check, page 53 clearly states:

…in cases when Man inadvertently refutes Female criticism of another Female, crisis can easily be prevented by evoking in the Female the basic instinct of Curiosity. Remember, “Curiosity killed the Cat…”

Expression # 92—I Had More To Say is a must here. The key is to not allow your face to fall into Expression # 2—Guilt.

Females, especially Wives, jump on Guilt like a lion on a limping wildebeest. Expression # 92, however, evokes the Sniffing Response, “What Else Was He Going To Say?”

A caveat here: Never hold Expression # 92 for longer than 5 seconds, or the Sniffing Response will turn into He’s Full of Crap. Count to three, then segue smoothly into # 9—Whatever.

# 9 is powerful, trust me. Be prepared for a snarled “What???”

The Smoove Operator has mastered the Art of the Quick Shift; in this case, # 9 to # 103—Oh? You’re Listening Now?—Quick Shift to # 40—Let Me Lower My Voice, I Don’t Want Them To Hear What I’m About To Say.

The Quick Shift must be practiced every day, preferably while she’s watching The Lifetime Channel. Believe it or not, those soapy tear-jerkers provide for plenty of opportunities for changing facial expression quickly.

The Movie of the Month: My Husband Winks At Our Babysitter: What Does That Mean? is great for training. (Don’t worry, you haven’t missed it. It’s going to come on 5 times this week, at least.)

I noted with satisfaction that both Females had entered into Estrogen Cycle One—“What Is It?” Other than making sure I said something significant that hadn’t occurred to either of them, I was in good shape. They say you can’t herd cats; I say you don’t have to, they do a pretty good job of it all by themselves…..

“Huh?” I said, “Oh, yeah, don’t be so quick to judge. You know this is her first time…” I slurrrrped an oyster, “with a White man. “You know how that is.”

You see, they had been so busy processing the idea that a Swirl Event was taking place less than ten feet away, plus the fact that S.S.S. had decided to let the puppies out for fresh air, that they forgot the idea that they were witnesses to a Woman’s First Time.

Guys, it really doesn’t matter what the first time is. To Females, any First Time is a noteworthy event, to be processed and discussed with each other, as well as every friend possible ad infinitum, ad nauseum. Two cell phones would be getting a workout tonight, trust me.

To paraphrase Betty Wright’s old 70’s R & B hit:

“Tonight is the night…that you…make me a Swirler…”

Oh, I forgot. That song was before your time. Here, click this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fztEye8LqRg