My daughter and I have some of the greatest conversations in the history of ever. I’m actually sitting here staring off into the distance smiling and reflecting on them and I can honestly say we talk about any and everything under the Sun. And because she has such a quirky easy-going attitude and wonderful sense of humor, she makes these conversations—particularly the awkward ones—so much easier for me being her awesome-ass father to project some of that genetic awesomeness of mine onto her.
The kid has really rounded out to become a great young woman if I don’t say so myself.
That’s because aside from dying about 50 years from now with my head buried deep in some stripper’s surgically-manufactured chest, my main goal in life is to make sure my little sperm champs are adequately prepared to make the best decisions for themselves within their own belief systems without any influence from me or their mother. And for me to do this, I gotta impart them with some dope ass jewel droppings from time to time. Usually, this is done within the dialogue of our self-proclaimed “great ass conversations.”
Anyway, recently, my daughter and I had yet another great ass conversation, and this one was about relationships and sex.
Obviously, this is not an easy conversation to have with your teenager daughter that is certainly teeming with hormones and curiosity and other shit I don’t wanna think about. And I’m certain the last thing she wanted to talk about with her father was anything related to the exchange of bodily fluids and creating babies. But in keeping with my mission to make sure my children don’t make dumb-ass decisions later in their adult lives, I felt it necessary we tackle this problem that will likely grow to be a big-ass thorn in her ass as she gets older.
That problem is MEN.
Understand that I want my daughter to settle with whomever loves her and respects her. And if that happens to be a male, the best way for me to ensure she knows what love and respect from a man is…is to treat her like I want her to be treated. And I’m certain I’ve done that. But there’s one thing I did reiterate with my daughter that I think all men and women need to be able to comprehend. And that is: It’s a privilege for a man to be in the presence of a woman. And as a privilege, women are completely in the driver’s seat when it comes to a heterosexual relationship.
You have to understand that women are the bearers of the world’s children. They are the nurturers of the world’s villages. They are the very fucking reason we all are here to begin with.
You see, when I say "here," I don't mean here as in brought you into this world, which women most certainly did. I'm talking about here as in where you are now in this life. Everything you are and are going to be is because of a woman’s sacrifices throughout your whole punk-ass existence.
And It all started that night at the roller rink when your mama met your daddy lookin' all fine
in his kinda dry S-Curl while roller-dancing to “Saturday Love” by Alexander O’Neal & Cherrelle.
Your mama had a few Malibu & Cranberries, one thing led to another, and next thing she knows she's knocked up with your wide, lumpy-head ass for nine very uncomfortable months craving Flammin’ Hots dipped in vanilla ice cream. She wobbled around carrying you, only to finally go through labor so painful, she best describes it as giving birth to a breach fully-grown Gary Coleman. Then she had to let you suck on her titties with that rough ass mouth of yours to make sure you were fed every two hours and changed your little nasty fucking diaper filled with shit that looked like a melted Hershey bar covered in mustard.
Women have cleaned after you. Fed you. Bathed you. Let you borrow their Toyota Corollas and not fill the motherfuckers back up with gas, while at the same time letting you live after you totaled those same Toyota Corollas they let you borrow in the first place because they actually care about yo’ fuckboy ass.
Women have been cat-called and cheated on. Women have created businesses and have built shit by themselves from the ground up without yo’ punk ass help. Women have hustled. And hustled harder than yo’ privileged ass could ever dream because society says that women can’t do the same things as men so women have to prove their worth by doing that damn same job better just to be considered equal.
Not only that, women are constantly bombarded with offers of head and dick when most of those dicks aren't even large enough to adequately support a roll of Charmin toilet paper much less sexually satisfy anyone ever. Plus, these offers are made disrespectfully in all sorts of ways from the form of a yell from several blocks away to grabbing their arm to yelling outside the passenger window of a friend's Buick Skylark. Do I even have to mention that these offers aren't exclusive, but instead are tried over and over again with multiple women until one poor soul finally falls for the desperate, fuckboyish shit?
You see, it’s because a man chases after women in the first place that puts the woman in a certain position of power. A position of control. A position in the right to be choosy as all fuck and thus, the game of love is played with the ball in her court—and there’s nothing you can do about it.
All these things are what I told my daughter and what I want her to understand. That she comes from a long history of great, strong, self-sufficient women that paved the way for her to be every bit of awesome as they were. I told her if a man has the balls to ever attempt at having his time entertained by a her, he must also understand that her presence is a privilege. That she owns the keys to how the courtship goes down. That she is the employer in the relationship and therefore, he must prove that he wants the job...and not the other way around.