Never Satisfied: Do Men Know What They Want? (15 page)

“Jennifer, do me a favor and go get your coat,” I said. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“Why are men so tight?” she said while sliding her hand down between the sink and my crotch. “If I was your woman and needed help, wouldn’t you be there for me? I mean, what if I was short on my rent or something?”

And that was the last straw. I wiped the suds off my hands, rushed to the closet, and pulled out her jacket.

“Let’s go Jennifer,” I said while showing her the door. “The bank is closed.”

“Come on Jason,” she whined. “I’ll be a good girl. Just let me stay with you tonight. I’m not ready to go home.”

“You don’t have to go home, but you’ve got to get the hell out of here!”

With that I slammed the door in her face, turned out the lights, and went to bed.

Of course, this wasn’t the last dream date that turned into a nightmare. As recently as last month, I experienced another doozy. A woman whom I met at a networking party called to invite me out to dinner. Remember, I did say she invited me out. Since she took the initiative to arrange the date, I volunteered to drive. I picked her up at eight, and we were on our way. When we arrived at the restaurant, our table was waiting. To make a long story short, the food was great and the conversation was even better. After finishing our meal and having a glass of wine, she was ready to go. I left a generous tip on the table and we walked towards the register. As we approached the lobby area, I stopped to help her on with her coat, and then I excused myself to go to the bathroom. When I came out, she was standing at the register still holding the bill in her hand.

“Do you need help with change?” I asked.

“No, I’m waiting for you to pay for dinner.”

“Here we go again,” I angrily thought. “Different woman, same old game.” I was so enraged that I stormed out of the restaurant, got in my car, and left her butt stranded. I couldn’t believe she expected me to pay. Not half the bill, mind you but the entire balance. Like I said, women are all the same. They’re only interested in what a man can do for them. Well, two can play at that game.

The life of a nice guy is a difficult one. He lives in a world filled with women who don’t appreciate his generosity or sensitivity. If he buys gifts and loans money he is viewed as gullible. And if he says, “I love you,” and cries on his woman’s shoulder then he’s a punk. If he initiates the conversation about getting married he’s too clingy. After years of being misunderstood and kicked to the curb he begins to feel the pressure to measure up to the macho, cold-hearted, playboy image. And with the help of an unfaithful wife or girlfriend, he is often pushed over the edge. Keith, who is a 21-year-old college student, recently caught his girlfriend involved in extracurricular activity. Since then his attitude towards women has become cold and bitter, especially toward his girlfriend. “This drama was totally unnecessary” he said. “If she wanted to fuck other guys, all she had to do was end the relationship!” At a young age he is learning what so many other men have as they mature, “Everything that glitters isn’t gold.”

Keith’s Story

M
y mother always taught me to treat women with respect. She also taught me that if a man were honest with his woman, he would receive the same in return. But my mother never met anyone like Cynthia. She turned out to be a real heartbreaker. We met at City College two years ago. The moment I laid eyes on her in the cafeteria, I knew she was the one for me. She had hazel eyes, a beautiful smile, and she was a nerd like me. And because she ran track, her body was in great shape. What a package! But the problem with this perfect package was how appealing it was to the other guys on campus. They wanted to unwrap it as much as I did. As it turned out, she had been unwrapped and test driven several times before and during our relationship.

For the first twelve months we were together, life was great. Cynthia and I went to concerts, plays, and amusement parks together. You name it, we did it. However, the following year things began to get a little shaky. I was accepted at a University in Atlanta, and she was staying here in Chicago. I thought the distance might cause a problem between us, so I sat down with her and discussed having an open relationship.

“Look Cynthia, I’m going to be away for three and four months at a time. I’ll understand it if you want to see other guys while I’m gone.”

“Is that really what you want, Keith?” she said sounding upset.

“Not really, but you are an attractive young woman and I know these guys are going to be sweating you left and right.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that? I’m a big girl, and I can handle myself. But are you sure this idea of breaking up isn’t for your benefit?”

“You know better than that baby. I only wanted to give you an opportunity to call it quits without any guilty feelings.”

‘Well, don’t do me any favors,” she said as her eyes began to swell up with tears. “I know what I want, and it’s you.”

Needless to say, this was good news for me because I loved this woman and wanted desperately to be her first love. I had been waiting patiently for two years and I wanted to be rewarded.

During the first three months of school, Cynthia and I talked every day on the phone. But after only three months, once a day turned into once every other day, then once every three days. I didn’t think much about it because mid-term exams were kicking my ass. And besides, Christmas break was coming up and we knew we would be getting together. The day of my last test, I called Cynthia and told her when to expect me home. I couldn’t afford airfare so I decided to ride up with some friends who lived in Chicago. They were going to drop me off on Christmas Eve and pick me up the day after New Years. Everything was set until the guy whose car I was supposed to ride in had an accident the day we were going to leave. “How bad can your luck get?” I asked myself. Of course, I had to call Cynthia with the bad news. She seemed very upset and disappointed that I couldn’t make it. The emphasis is on the word
seemed
. As I sat in my dormitory room disappointed and horny as hell, good old Dad came through with airfare. I decided not to call Cynthia and surprise her for Christmas!” And as it turned out, I was the one who got the surprise.

Once my plane landed, I thought about catching a taxi. But one look at the heavy traffic on the Kennedy Expressway and I was easily persuaded to take the train. I followed the signs to the CTA train station under the airport and hopped aboard the crowded cars. The ride to 95th street took about an hour, so I killed time by daydreaming about Cynthia. Man, it’s going to feel good to hold her again, I was thinking. And who knows, maybe she’ll even give me some pussy for Christmas.

Once I snapped out of my horny fantasy, I became more concerned about how lonely she must have been without me. Her mother was out of town on business and her best friend was spending the day with her boyfriend’s family. I knew she would be home alone with no one to keep her company. I was anxious to come to her rescue.

When the train reached my stop, I battled my way through the heavy crowd and headed straight for the florist. By the time I got there all of the red roses had been sold out, so I bought a long stem yellow rose and a beautiful card instead. After all, it’s the thought that counts. When I arrived at her place, I peeked into the living room window hoping to startle her. But all I saw was a bottle of beer on the table and a nightgown hanging over the chair. Although Cynthia hated alcohol, I didn’t think much of it. I decided to go around back to knock on her bedroom window. “She’s really going to be shocked.” I thought. But what happened next shocked only me.

As I tiptoed around to the rear, I began to hear faint sounds of a thumping and squeaking. The closer I got, the louder it became. “Squeak, thump, squeak, thump!” Somebody was getting busy, and I mean real busy. Once I made it around to her window, it was clear where those sounds were coming from.

“Whose is it, whose is it?” a man’s voice asked forcefully.

“It’s yours baby, it’s yours,” Cynthia’s exhausted voice submitted.

“Is it good baby, is it good?”

“Yes, baby it’s good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

My heart dropped to the ground. And yes, I cried. Here I was playing the perfect gentleman, waiting patiently for her to be ready. Come to find out she was ready all along. I was willing to let her pursue other relationships. But no! She elected to hold out on me, while sleeping with everybody else on the side. I stood for a moment leaning against the wall in total shock, listening to my girlfriend getting banged by some dude. Then I pulled out my pen and wrote her a message on the card I bought.

Dear Cynthia
,

Today you broke my heart. I came home to surprise you, but it was me who got the surprise. For years I was fooled into believing your body was priceless. I waited on you to be ready so we could share something special. But as I have finally found out, you’re worthless, nothing more than flea market trash
.

But I want to say, Thank you. Thank you for screwing me as well as the man you were with today, although I’m sure he enjoyed it more than I did. But most importantly, thank you for a special kind of education about trusting women. It is one that I will carry with me for the rest of my life
.

Signed,
No More Mr. Nice Guy

P.S. Let this flower be a reminder of how sweet and caring a man I used to be
.

Many women will argue that men being hurt in relationships has nothing to do with why they cheat. But it is clear to me from listening to a number of these stories, that the effects can be devastating. Any relationship that has a chance at longevity must be built on trust. And if that trust is damaged, whether it happens today or ten years ago, the man will be hesitant to trust or love again. Some people may call it putting up a wall, immaturity, or even insecurity. The point is a man will do whatever it takes to keep from being hurt again. And while he’s about the business of blocking his feelings, getting even, or whatever you want to call it, guess who’s getting hurt? That’s right, the innocent woman who had absolutely nothing to do with his bad experiences. Of course, the vengeful man is unwilling to stop long enough to take this into account. In his mind, everyone must pay, the women who have injured him in the past and those who might play games in the future. Unfortunately this type of mentality is destructive and creates a vicious cycle of manipulation. The hurt man makes the next woman in his life pay for something she didn’t do; she in turn gets even with the next man she dates. This melodrama plays out over and over again from generation through generation. When will it ever end?

NOTHIN’ BUT THE DOG IN ME

W
hat examination of the cheating man would be complete without a long hard look at the infamous D-O-G? As one woman so eloquently put it, “Any man who cheats is a dog, atomic dog, under dog, mighty dog, and last but not least, deputy dog.” Now, after you have collected yourselves off the floor from laughter, we can look deeper into the mind of this pathological sex addict and player. To begin with, he has a chauvinistic attitude towards women. In his mind, women are sexual objects put on this earth for the sole purpose of satisfying his needs. Forget about qualities like personality, education, and sense of humor. Those traits are unnecessary for the duties he needs performed. As one man boldly stated, “A woman’s reading skills and Ph.D. won’t be of much use when she’s lying on her back.”