He’s done nothing on your “honey do list”—the dishes aren’t washed, the leaky kitchen faucet still drips, the patio isn’t swept, the clothes hamper is still full, and the living room’s a complete and utter mess.
Instead of barking at him, you retreat to your room to decompress (it’s only Monday—the Holy Spirit, and those communion crackers from yesterday, still have you in a decent mood).
Later, you ask him nicely, “Baby, did you apply for any jobs today?” And after pretending not to hear your question at first, he finally answers,“Why you pressuring me to find work? You know the economy is hard on a brotha, let a nigga breathe” (or some variation of that).
Suddenly, your blood pressure rises, the hair on the back of your neck stands up, your eyes twitch, your hands clench into fists, and the lighthearted approach you began using turns to rage and profanity-laced, verbal aggression. The bitch in you emerges despite your effort to suppress it; and without warning, you scream, rant, rave, and argue him into oblivion. Sisters, how many of you have experienced this scenario at home? In response, how many of you have called your boyfriend a “trifling nigga,” “punk ass bitch” or used any other emasculating designation? How did he respond?
Sisters, if I had to guess, chances are your significant other (assuming he has adult-sized testicles) doesn’t respond particularly well to vicious name-calling and broad-based attacks on his character. So here’s some advice: avoid confrontation by using your mouth for a different purpose—sucking his “you know what” (otherwise known as fellatio).
Yep, drink it in (no pun intended).
It might be hard at first (pun intended), but after you take a second to clam down, approach him with an offer he can’t refuse (and if he does refuse, he’s either gay or creeping with another woman).
Take it to another level by giving your best “Nike” impression—“Just Do It.” Don’t prepare him for the tongue twirl—be spontaneous. Simply walk over and give your man the best damn oral sex he’s ever had (think SUPAHEAD minus Mr. Marcus and his diseased privates).
Sisters, (in case some of you don’t know), I’ll let you in on a little secret—men cannot think during sex (especially if what you’re giving is good). Our brains turn to mush—we become children again, happy, naturalized, highly-manipulatable, ready and willing to follow any command you give, even if we don’t agree. You know the saying “men think with the head below, not the one above.” Ladies, if your head game is up to par (which can be achieved through rigorous practice) you can move mountains at home. And if you are truly clever, ask (no, tell!) him to perform chores while working your magic on his Johnson. After it’s over, your boo-thang will hunt down a moose, skin it, knit you a fur coat and cook you a meal (if you ask him to).
So Sisters, next time you’re upset with your guy—don’t yell, get him to swell. I promise he’ll perform every task on your “honey do list,” and the nigga might even get a J-O-B (here’s to hoping).
Common side-effects of performing (good) oral sex: finally getting that wedding ring you want, weekly manicures and pedicures, trips to the Caribbean, shopping sprees, five star meals, feet and back rubs, a blimp flying through the sky with your name it, any damn thing you want!.
Happy Singing (on his mike, of course).
Based in Southern California, Cory A. Haywood is also a certified personal fitness trainer. Contact him via:firstname.lastname@example.org and/or visit his websites: www.coryhaywood.webs.com andcorythewriter.blogspot.com