THE DOCTOR IS IN (A.K.A. THE MIDNIGHT THERAPY SESSION)

JEW-MUNJI!


Okay, so I'm a fairly intelligent guy.

On the low, I'm smarter than most people I know. I've had my IQ tested before and it's pretty impressive (to me anyway). I'm not Mensa smart, but I'll hold my own in any conversation with any person you put in front of me.

The thing about my intelligence is this…outside of this particular post, I don't promote the fact that I'm smart. It usually manifests on its own, despite my attempts to hide it.

With that being said, in my 35 years, I've come to the conclusion that intelligence is intimidating. More specifically, hot girls don't wanna fuck brainy dudes. Not that hot girls can't be brainy too, but most hot girls want hot guys. And statistics show that hot guys aren't brainy. So what I've been reduced to doing, and truthfully I don't mind doing this, is sometimes dumbing myself down for the sake of having a social life.

Allow me to explain further. Not everyone is into what I'm into (science, sociology, religion, playing scrabble with a religious fervor, or porn). Okay so maybe most people are porn-friendly (lol). And not everyone likes to be around smart people or people they feel they have nothing in common with. So what I've learned to do is simply “bring myself to where they are.” And by that, what I mean is that if they only know entertainment news and gossip - guess what - I know that too. If a person stopped their education at high school, I bring it to where they're most comfortable. It's no biggie.

In embodying this methodology, I've been able to socialize with many different types of people and placed myself in a position to be all things to all people (more on this in future post). Is this system flawed? Am I doing these people a disservice? Who's to say, but it works for me.

But every so often, people get to me and force me to unleash my inner nerd. I don't like being the “smarty-arty guy” but sometimes I have to - which reminds me of a date I had one time.

There came a time I tried to be strategic with my dating on Black Planet (henceforth referred to as the devil's playground). Most of my liaisons were generated rather randomly, which was cool too. But I wanted to get a lil more specific with those I met via this vehicle. At the time, BP had just started this BP Dating feature and they were pushing mad hard for people to sign up for it. With this new service you would be able to search for people with similar interest and more specifically, you could search for people located in your immediate vicinity. That part caught my attention. I was tired of driving distances when I met brawds.

So for a period of one month, I paid the $19.99 and assembled a list of targets…I mean potential dates that lived within 5 miles of my house. One of the young ladies that I matched up with fairly well (on paper) lived close to me. So I sent her a note, we got to knowing each other and it was on and poppin. I suggested to her that we get together to meet fairly quickly. It was no point in having this big telephone build up only to be disappointed in person or not be attracted to each other. There was a Burger King located midway between both of our apartment complexes. We decided to meet there on a Wednesday night.

I beat her to the BK and grabbed a booth in back to observe her come in. On her picture she looked very sexy (it was a Glamour Shot photo) and her profile helped bolster my decision to meet her. No kids, age 25, lived alone, college educated, earned a decent salary and was a professional - all good stuff. She walked in and I took it all in, going over her appearance with a fine tooth comb. While she didn't look as hot as the pic (then again who does - Glamour Shots be hookin' niggas up), she was still cute. She was about 5'3” and about 130lbs. Her physique was impeccable - shapely legs, small waist, average palm sized-azz and these huge double D's. I would later find out that she ran track throughout high school. As far as her dress, she wore a nice pair of jeans and some semi-dressy boots (always a good combo) and a tight sweater top to match the boots. I looked at her and thought to myself, “I'd hit that.” Lol

I felt her sizing me up too, but I couldn't get a read on how she felt about the way I looked. Not that I cared. We sat and talked for a bit and then I asked her if she wanted to go back to my place, which was pretty much located around the corner. To my surprise she said yes. So she hopped in her Neon, which coincidently enough was the same exact color as my Green Machine, and followed me back to the lab.

Normally when I have company, I “chick proof” the spot. What that means is that I eliminate any thing that eluded to previous female company. For example (thanks to a fellow blogger for telling me about this one) drinking glasses in the sink or condom wrappers in the garbage. Chick Proofing also included unplugging my answering machine. That's how you know this story is old - who the hell still has an answering machine. Well this particular time, I didn't Chick Proof the crib. And I purposely didn't do so. Mostly it was because I had no vested interest in this girl, but also because I really didn't give a fuck.

We get in my place and I'm taking her around the apartment and wouldn't you know it the phone starts ringing. Damn you Mistress Fate - maker of ironic life occurrences. The phone is ringing and she asks me if I'm going to answer it. My response, “naw that would be rude, I'm just gonna let the answering machine get it.” Which woulda been cool had not the answering machine been located in the very living room we were standing in and the volume not been turned all the way up. {Why did I keep the answering machine in the living room you may wonder? Well there's a two-fold reason. One, I didn't enjoy being in the bedroom with a special someone about to get busy and then a chick's voice comes over the answering machine - it tends to spoil the moment. And two, I used to enjoy entering my apartment and seeing that blinking red light on the machine. That blinking light meant a left message and a left message meant that someone liked me (lol)}. Anyhow… the machine picks up.

Caller: Hey Serial, this blah-say-blah, I just wanted to call to let you know that I was thinking about you. Call me when you get a chance.

I was a little embarrassed by the message, but it wasn't so bad. We could've chuckled about that and moved on, but unfortunately that wouldn't be that last call. What I experienced within a 15-minute span was borderline absurd. The messages kept on coming and from different women.

Caller#2: Hey baby this is blah-say blah. Last night was wonderful. I hope we can do it again soon. Call me.

Caller#3: Hey Serial we need take care of that thing we were talking about. Give me a call when you get a minute.

Caller#4: Hi sexy man, this is blah-say blah. I was wondering what you were doing this weekend. I'm hoping maybe we can get together and do something. Call me. Bye-bye.

I swear it was like that answering machine skit from Biggie's first CD, Ready To Die. After the second caller and message, I was going to cut off the machine. But ole girl asked me not too. In her own words, “No don't cut it off, leave it on, I'm thoroughly getting a kick out of this. You're quite popular, I see.” And she wasn't wrong. During that time in my life, my doability was at an all time high. And I was exploiting it to the fullest degree.

I was pleased to hear that I didn't mess up my opportunity to smash her off with all those intrusive phone calls. I might be wrong about this, but I almost think it was those same phone messages that put me “in there.” I think she was impressed that I was so sought after. Which brings me to another conclusion - Women only want a man that other women want too. That's probably why I got so much attention when I was married.

With both of us seeing that I had date options for the upcoming weekend, she put her bid in quickly. We made plans to get together and go to the movies and possibly dinner - my treat. That Saturday we went to see the first Harry Potter movie, I believe. Don't ask me how we ended up choosing that movie, because I don't know. While I'm a huge Lord of the Rings fan, I don't do the whole teenage witch thing. But nevertheless, she picked me up and we went to the movies.

After the movies we kept things simple. She was a big fan of Boston Market, so we went there to cop a meal. Up until that time, the date went pretty good and convo was straight. But then, there at a table at Boston Market, things went terribly wrong. Terribly wrong. Before I get into this, I have to say that I observe people quite closely. I picked up a couple of things about her that could be conceived as negative, but I thought that I could handle it. She was one of those smarty-arty know-it-all chicks, who liked having the last word and thought that she was extremely intelligent. Because of the fact that I wanted to bone her, I ignored a lot of things. But then she drew blood. Lol

To this day, I still don't know how we began talking about Jews, but we became engulfed in a huge debate about the subject.

Serial Dater: I can't believe you are sitting here in front of me, telling me that Jews are a race of people.

Brainy chick: Of course Jews are a race. Why else would they all look like that, have those last names and those big noses. The races are Blacks, Caucasians, Asians, Hispanics, Middle Easterners and Jews.

Serial Dater: You've got to be kidding me right. Jews are not a race. Jew is a colloquialism for a person who subscribes to the religion of Judaism. Anyone who accepts this religion and all its principles and ordinances can become Jewish.

Brainy chick: That's incorrect. Jews are a race. I know plenty of Jewish people and they are all that off white complexion have those larger shaped noses and their last names are similar and end in “itz” or something like that.

Serial Dater: I cannot believe that you're college educated. What are they teaching you at Towson University. Don't you know that Jew refers to religion not race? Did you know that Sammy Davis Jr. (the black entertainer) was Jewish? Or that in Africa (the motherland) there is a large sect of African Jews? When you filled out a job application, did you ever see a box available for Jew next to the ones for blacks, whites, Hispanics and Asians?

We couldn't come to an agreement and the conversation went down hill from there. By the time we ended that conversation, I couldn't finish my meal and wanted to go home. I wanted away from this pseudo intellectual in the worst way. I was pissed at myself for not driving. We got in the car and didn't say anything to each other the entire ride back to my spot. As a matter of fact, I didn't even let her come to a complete stop when she pulled into my parking lot, I just opened the door and jumped out. I closed the door behind me and went inside. She sat there in the parking lot for a minute looking dumbfounded and then pulled off.

I was so happy to be away from her. No pussy was worth that ignorance. And I've put up with some ignorant shit to get some ass. When I got in the crib, I cut on HBO and chilled for a bit. It was a Saturday night and it was only ten something, so I contemplated dialing up someone else to spend some time with, but I was spent from my outting with Ms. Encyclopedia Brown, so I decided to call it a night.

At about midnight my phone starts ringing. Now I got a house rule about midnight phone calls. If you are woman calling my crib that late at night somebody better had be dying or that call better involve coitus. If neither of those things are the subject of your discussion, I'm going to be peeved. I answered the phone and it was none other than the pseudo intellectual herself, Brainy Chick.

Brainy Chick: You got some nerve! I can't believe you acted like that! How dare you behave like you're pissed at me. Not going talk to me in my own car and then jump out like you mad at somebody. If anyone should be mad, it shoulda been me. You were the one acting like an ass.

Serial Dater: First off you callin' my house in the middle of the night with this bullshit. I should be pissed. And I didn't talk to you because I was tired of hearing what had to say. You know what? I ain't got time for this shit {click}.

One minute later, the phone rings again. I picked up and it was her again. This time she sounded like she was on her cell phone.

Brainy Chick: How dare you hang up on me! You got a lot of nerve. Nobody hangs up on me. You…

Serial Dater: Goodbye Brainy Chick {click}.

I thought that would be the last of it, but somehow deep inside I knew that it wouldn't. She didn't seem to be the type of person to quit in a battle. She didn't let up at Boston Market and I couldn't see her letting up now. I figured I'd hear from her again at some point, but I didn't think that it would be that night, so I went back to watching TV.

About 12:30 a.m. my doorbell rings. “Who in the fuck is that,” I said to myself. At first I was furious as I walked to the door. Somebody was about to get ripped a new one. But then something came over me before I got to the door - a sense of calm you could say. I simmered down and looked through the peephole. It was ole gurl standing at my door fuming with her hands on her hips. I couldn't help but to chuckle. She looked so cute in her angry bitch mode. I got an immediate sense of satisfaction in knowing that I affected someone that way. I had that crazy brawd make a special trip to the crib. Oh you Internet psychos.

I opened the door and smiled. She stood there and continued to ice grill me. I turned and walked back to my bedroom leaving the front door open. She came in and closed the door behind her. She then came into my bedroom like she was fittin' to wreck shop up in that piece. I just laid out on the chaise lounge and looked at her.

Brainy Chick: Just who in the fuck do you think you are hanging up on me! Nobody does that shit to me. I go out with your ass and you catch an attitude because I don't agree with what you're saying. That's very childish on your part.

Serial Dater: Why do you even give a fuck? Why do you care that I didn't want to talk to you? You the one looking real crazy right now. I didn't get out of my bed to drive to somebody house in the middle of the night.

Brainy Chick: You are rude and your ass don't know how to talk to women. And furthermore….

By then I had had enough. Playtime was over and it was off with the kid gloves. If she felt that bold to come to my house in the middle of the night to read me the “riot act” and “tell me about myself” then turnabout was fair play. I was going to tell her herself. I interrupted her vagina monologue.

Serial Dater: Allow me to tell you about yourself Ms. Thang. Since you feel so compelled to share with me. Do you know why you're probably single? Do you know why you don't have a man? Just look at yourself. Look at what you're doing right now. You can't help your self - you think you know it all and you don't know how to shut up. Do you know that men don't like chicks that think they know it all and who don't know when to stop talking. You're one of those chicks. You're combative and argumentative for all the wrong reasons. You do far too much talking and not enough listening. And even when you do listen, you aren't listening. Nobody can tell you shit because you know everything already. You're the type of chick that men don't wanna be around. You argue for the sake of arguing and mostly it's over dumb shit. You need to learn to be more humble and learn when to pick and choose your battles or else you're gonna be single for a long time. You might be attractive but your personality leaves a lot to be desired. Work on that and you might become a woman that men want to have.

For the first time in my life, I told a woman everything I actually thought about her. And it felt good. I didn't care what happened after I said it, I just wanted to say it. However, I wasn't prepared for what actually did happen after my spiel. Brainy Chick a.k.a. Ms. Tough as Nails looked at me and broke down. She began crying uncontrollably like someone had stolen her dog. I couldn't believe it. I had gone too far and hurt this girl's feelings I thought. Feeling bad, I jumped up to console her. I held her in my arms as she wept and then I apologized.

Brainy Chick: You don't have to apologize. You're right about what you said (she said sobbing).

Serial Dater: What do you mean?

Brainy Chick: You're right about what you said. This is not the first time someone has told me this. I just couldn't believe that I'm hearing it from you! You don't even know me. But yet in a period of spending time with me for one day, you were able to tell me the same exact thing my friends have been telling me for years. Even my mother has told me some of the same things that you said.

Serial Dater: Naw I didn't mean anything I said. I was just giving you shit {lie}.

Brainy Chick: No but you're right. How could you tell me the same shit I've been hearing from friends for years. You don't even know me. But you said the same things. I guess it just hit me differently coming from a complete stranger. I wasn't expecting you to analyze me so accurately. I gotta work on some things about myself, I suppose.

Serial Dater: You know what? We all have things we need to work on about ourselves. And you know what the good part is? It's never too late.

Brainy Chick: You think so?

Serial Dater: I know so. And you know what else? It's not too late for us to start over and be friends.

Brainy Chick: I'd like that.

With that I hugged her again, got her a napkin to get her face together and then I put her out. She left feeling pretty good about herself and we made plans to hook up again sometime in week. The next day at work, I spent the early part of my morning researching and writing. I was researching information on the Jew Race question. After assembling my data, I wrote a research paper, including a bibliography of sources, discrediting her theory that Jews were a race of people. I emailed it to her job (lol). I may have forgiven her, but I didn't forget.

She called me at my job to surrender. She was indeed wrong. I felt vindicated. So began our friendship.

And what's the lesson here….Never challenge a Virgo!