Somewhere between getting the right to vote and 2011, the things that women have to do to impress men got lost in translation. So I’m going just lay a few things out there that we (men) don’t give a flying fuck about.
Your credit rating
I know Yo Gotti may have led you to believe that good credit is part of the credentials of a 5 star bitch, and it probably is, but half you chicks are 3 stars at best. Trust me, your credit is not what we were looking at when you hopped out of that 98 Camry. Unless he’s a D boy, and he’s tired of getting everything in his momma’s name, your credit won’t be an issue. No need to rush and pay off that overdue Discovery card balance just yet.
Designer handbags and shoes
When I see a chick with Louis, Gucci, Hermes, Nine West, Michael Kors, Jimmy Cho or whatever the fuck else hanging from her arm or strapped to her feet, I always think the same thing, “Oh ok; that’s nice.” To be completely honest, I have never been in the presence of my male friends, and the topic of female designer bags or shoes came up. Honestly speaking, if I see a cute chick standing over there with a Louis Vuitton bag on her arm and red bottoms on her feet, chances are I’m gonna keep it moving. History has shown me that women on all that designer shit are 9 times out of 10 either (1) in debt, (2) fucking for dollars on the side, (3) spoiled as fuck by their parents, or (4) shopping at the flea market. Either way, JD wants no parts of that shit. So that cute little basic bag you saw at Zara last weekend go ahead and pick that up; we aren’t paying attention anyway. More than anything, ya’ll are impressing each other. You’re not a lesbian, but you’re spending your rent money on Louboutins to wear out with your girls? Yeah, you might need to re-evaluate some shit.
Your nails
My favorite nail polish color is clear, and that’s only because I can’t think of any color I’d like to see a woman’s nails painted. I complimented a chick’s nails once in my life; she had a French manicure… go figure. I’m almost sure that every dude I know wouldn’t give a fuck if your nails were painted shit green. That’s not something we’re checking for. Two-inch long acrylic nails definitely won’t bring all the boys to the yard. I very well may be on my third date with a chick before I notice she’s missing a finger, let alone the amount of money she donated to the Asian shop on the corner to keep her nails looking tiptop.
What you do for a living
There’re only a handful of jobs women might have that would prevent me from dating them: drug mule, parking enforcement, prostitute, assassin, and porn star. There might be one or two jobs I’m drawing a blank on right now, but that about sums it up. Pretty much, if you can handle your own lifestyle, why should your career choice interest me in the slightest? The chances of finding and marrying a balling ass chick, who will allow a guy to quit his job and become a house husband, are extremely slim. Let’s just use Steadman as a prime example; that dude still hasn’t married Oprah. If he can’t do it, then, nobody can. With the assumption that I’ll keep paying my own bills, and since most women expect men to be providers anyway, your day job really does nothing for me.
Your dreams and aspirations
Not saying that we are looking for ain’t shit bitches, but being that men are logical creatures, we invest in what’s happening here and now. We aren’t dating the future you. Although future you will be in great shape, because future you works out regularly, and you’ll also own a chain of nail shops all up and down the east coast… Present you could stand to do a sit-up or two, lives in a 2 bedroom rent-controlled apartment, and takes Strayer University classes online; that’s who we’re dating here and now. So we’ll listen and nod our heads every 2 or 3 minutes in agreement as you paint the vivid picture of your future, but it really doesn’t mean shit to us.
Your Ability to cook
There was a time when a man didn’t even touch the stove in his own home. If he didn’t have a wife, he would either starve or live off of lunchmeat sandwiches. Those days are far behind us. Besides the fact that most men can maneuver around the kitchen enough to produce an edible meal, TV dinners have come a long way. I can cook, like I can do a lot more than boil water, but those Bertolli frozen pasta dinners keep a nigga’s cooking skills at bay. Today, all you need to know is the number to the closest carryout, your way around the freezer aisle, and how to operate a microwave… you don’t need a girl for any of that.
I’ll continue you to smile and say that’s nice but I don’t give a fuck for real
Jean DeGrate has spoken
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