I NEED A WOMAN by Fiction Writer Anthony Darden

There are new rules to the game now. It is naturally suppose to be attraction. Rich or poor. Don’t matter. But now the eye is like a radar. Too clogged up with analogical views.

Don’t get me wrong, but if I call you a bitch, I’m just speaking my mind. You know, you call ‘em as you see ‘em. Not that I don’t have respect for women. I do. But a good woman is hard to find. There are some nice ones. But most have too many moving parts. At least for me, that is. Maybe I’m just different. Because the older I get, having a full time relationship makes me less inclined. You know when your kid has a baby, you love it, you adore it, and you’re glad you can give it back. That’s the way I feel about women these days. After a while they start sounding like Charlie Brown’s teacher.
I wasn’t always this way. At one time I considered myself one of the good guys. I was a gentleman. I opened doors, catered to needs, and all the necessary things a good guy goes through when he appreciates a good woman. But I found the more you spoil a woman and give her a sense of entitlement, the bitchery they become. I’m not saying all women don’t appreciate a good man. I’m just saying the crop out there right now isn’t prospering much. Like trying to find a needle in the haystack.
Plus you have to be very caution these days. With the cosmetics, the weaves, and alterations, you never know what you are going to wake up to the next morning. And when it takes a woman three hours to get ready every day, you might end up with a Jake Spade Cherry. You know, the movie, I'm Gonna Git You Sucka , produced by Keenen Ivory Wayans in 1988. Well, there was this scene where Jack Spade, played by Keenen Ivory Wayans, and Cherry, played by Anne-Marie Johnson, are about to get down and dirty. She smokin hot. He’s horny as hell. But first they want to be honest with each other. It is the funniest thing you will ever see. Which gets me back on point. When I take a good lookin woman home, I expect that everything is on the up and up. That you are a real and natural beauty. I don’t want you to come out of the bathroom, wig gone, and bald nappy head. I don’t want to know what happen to those breast that were so round and perfect, and that ass that looked like a basketball. I don’t want to know where you hide the girl in the bathroom and thought you were going to take her place, that I had somehow become blind and stupid. My mother didn’t raise any fools.
I prefer a natural, downhome beauty. They come with a personality and not a brand. The kind of woman that goes to bed beautiful and wakes up the same way, from the inside out. I don’t want to roll over and scream, and wonder what you did with the woman I came home with last night.
Thank you eighties, of independent women.  You spit out some real winners. All you have to do is send them a “Like” or “Poke” them, and you’re on their page. But you can’t blame them. They didn’t have any home training. Their hero, the likes of Eminem, has sold 49.1 million albums. Kim Kardashian has broke the internet. You can’t blame a detached child for not having emotions, especially if the only thing you provided is payouts to the nanny or anyone else you palmed them off on when you should have been parenting and guiding them away for the storm. So your children don’t have to struggle you say. Money don’t make emotionally stable kids. Emotionless with money. Now that’s a real problem.
And boy, would I want a mother Kris Kardashian. I hear she likes them young. Everyone likes a good success story. But history and reality tells you, every bright stars buns out. Fame is like a candle. A slow burning wick. All the money in the world is not going to save you in the end, especially when you start to become the punchline at the end of the camera. When things start to go bad, and the domino effect starts, watch out. The storm is coming. It always does. Repent is the evolutionary work of Karma.
There are new rules to the game now. It is naturally suppose to be attraction. Rich or poor. Don’t matter. But now the eye is like a radar. Too clogged up with analogical views. The first is the dress code. If you pass the dress code, you get the second look. The second is the credit score. If that checks out on the second look, you’re on your way in. The third is accessing the home, how you are living, and if you have any bank. You got all that, you’re in the playing field. You got something they can work with.
And don’t go off script and fall for a poor man. That’s where the hater friends keep you in check. How dare you get emotionally involved with an honest broke man looking for his Queen to build a world, when there are a million and one knuckleheads willing to give up their child support money just for you? Plus he can’t afford you. You have too much class for him.
This isn’t just for the women. Men have their rules. They go through the same process. That’s good for a booty call. But a wifie call, you better know how to cook, clean, and do all the things needed to take care of a home. You get to poppin’ in his face about what you need, how you don’t cook and clean, and that you are too good for all the maid work, you better have your own money and able to hire your own staff. Which is a plus, because you are enriching both your life and his. But just don’t let it be poppin’ off at the mouth. You may get a check your ass can’t cash.
Life is moving too fast these days. Technology has made everyone crazy. When I get home, I turn my phone off, to keep out all the noise. I know if I leave it on, as much as I say I’m not going to answer it, it has already programed my response. This is me time, that lost time that I long for. In my head, I’m coming home to a beautiful woman to find peace and solitude. I’m coming home to see her smile, to bath in her inspiration, and enjoy the comfort of her touch. Two times I thought I had that. Two strikes, not looking for a third. Both times I left everything behind. Just woke up and walked out. A small price to pay for being a good guy.
The more disappointed I get, the more I find myself rushing home to salvation. Sometimes getting laid, isn’t worth the hassle. And even functioning in a world of endless drones, is getting harder day by day.  A world without any real human connect. How do people operate that way? When I shake a man’s hand, I want it to be honest and true, and with real conviction. When I hold a conversation, I want it to be enlightening, and not aimless and vague.  When I connected to a woman, I want to be connected to her mentally, as well as emotionally and physically. Even in family, I don’t want to go home to a bunch of strangers whose life I don’t know anything about.
That’s not my world. That’s someone else's world. I inspire in my control. My mother once told me, “boy, a man controls his own world.” I may live in a screwed up world. But what is in my heart and mind, I own. It’s not cheap. Which brings me to the point. I’m not looking for cheap, either. Some I’m going to set some rules, and I’m going to make them very clear.

The first rule. No fake parts. Only the parts your mother gave you. If you are intelligent, give me a call. If you are dumb, give me a call. If I can’t teach you anything, it’s only because I couldn’t stand listening and hung up. The second rule. I do not deal with second hand baggage. I will not burned you with mine, out of respect, and I expect the same. I can cook, clean, do laundry, shop, do the yard, hold down a career, have a few hobbies, build a house, and love kids and small animals. If you are all those things, beyond build a house, I think we got something going. The third rules. You must be caring, consider, respectfully, and have a mind of your own. Two great minds build a team. They set goals together. They build a life together. And one, cannot function without the other. The fourth. Loyalty, devotion, affection, inspiration, and admiration, to keep me strong and vital. The key to any great  man’s success.       

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