Welcome back, tea sippers.
Based off last week’s tea, “You vs. Them”, quite a few of you are sworn off of men with children.
I have yet to find women who were in several situations like me. But I know they are out there, cause I cannot be the only one getting hit on by all the baby daddies.
I don’t know, I just feel as if I should never have to compete. And with the situation with Deuce, I couldn’t compete with a baby. There wasn’t enough room in his heart for me- not to be sappy- but it opened up my eyes to see how difficult dating men with children can be.
If you have no idea what I am talking about, I suggest you read last week’s tea and catch up. It was pretty good to me. *sips*
Tonight’s tea stems from something I am beginning to notice lately. And not just in my life, but in the women around me.
Something that happens with longevity, but can be gone within a blink of the eye.
Something that makes you turn your head at one point, and then makes you feel like you broke your neck doing just that.
Something that makes you bite your lip, until you realize you made yourself bleed.
Something that made your imagination churn its wheels, but now it’s to a complete halt.
Something that used to make your engine purr, but not even the finest oil could get it moving again.
Something that makes you hot and sizzle when it first begins, and then a headache makes it all end.
That’s right, ladies and gents.
I’m talking about a One Minute Man.
Let’s dig in.
One Minute Man
“Break me off, and show me what you’ve got, ‘cause I don’t want no one minute man….”
If there’s anything that is on my agenda of shit I can’t stand, it is indeed a One Minute Man.
And no, I am not referring to anything sexual.
It’s always those types of guys who decide to act right, then dip in when they feel like it, stay in literally for a “minute” or so, and then they are back on their way out the door.
You don’t realize you’ve got one until it actually happens to you.
I’m pretty sure there are plenty of One Minute Women out there too, just to be fair to the men. Play with you until they get bored, and leave you at the wayside the next.
As always, Ms. Bree always has a couple of tales up her sleeve. I mean, I am the Urban Storyteller.
We’ll call him C-Note. C for short.
Trust me, I have my reasons for these peculiar nicknames I give to these characters. Just follow along.
C was this honey brown, clean cut dude with the best set of pearly white teeth I had ever seen in my life.
And yall know me, I am definitely a teeth person.
Just like Q, I happened to meet C at Wal-Mart. The same place I vowed to never look at the opposite sex again. For reasons you can probably tell…
I stood in the can good aisle stocking up on my veggie and pork ‘n beans when the continued stares were starting to drive me up the wall.
Just say something, damn. I muttered as I bent my back to get the last of the can goods I needed.
When I looked up, he flashed those pretty ol teeth of his and my eyes zeroed in on his lips.
“Hello.” The very deep baritone in his voice slapped my soul up and down as I wondered how did that sound actually come out of him. It wasn’t like he was 6’2 and had the muscle to match, but hey, your girl wasn’t complaining.
So you know, I made it do what it do, I bagged the number, and it was on and popping.
I pranced around the house putting away my groceries, taking my sweet time because of course, I was going to make him wait to receive my number. Ladies, sometimes, it’s best not to be too eager.
About two hours later, I sent C-Note a message, and things started to rocket. I found myself falling asleep when he used to make my hotline bling… sometimes at ungodly hours.
I thought C and I were just going to be friends and kick it, despite the initial attraction I had to him when we first met. But the more we hung out, the more I noticed that I wasn’t quite in the friend zone just yet.
And that’s great when it comes to women like me.
I happened to be taking my midterm exam when C-Note made my hotline bling, and he wanted to stop by before he went out to the bar with some of his homeboys that night.
I was pretty much done taking my exam, and I had over an hour left to complete it, which made me consider him doing just that: stopping by.
Before I could even answer, he said he was on his way.
“Well, you don’t even know where I stay at.” I spat with a playful attitude.
“Nah, you told me the name of your complex last week. I’ll figure the rest out.” He said slyly.
I laughed as I hung up the phone. C-Note didn’t know my rule: No one is allowed into my home.
Hope he knew that he was literally stopping by… outside.
I left my computer unattended as I slipped on my bedroom slippers and met C outside. He was already leaning on his white Nissan Altima, his cologne was too strong, and hell, I seen his teeth before I seen his eyes.
Damn, he got some nice teeth.
We leaned on his car for all of twenty minutes, catching each other up on how our week was going so far, and what would we have on the agenda for the weekend.
C was cool. It was cool when we hung out together.
But I didn’t act so cool when he leaned in for a peck on the lips as he was getting ready to head to the bar and meet his friends.
I looked like a deer in headlights when he opened back up his eyes. It startled him a bit, but he wasn’t as startled as me.
“What’s the look for?” He slowly said.
“I mean, I wasn’t expecting that.” I nervously chuckled.
“You can always expect the unexpected with me.”
And before I knew it, he came in for yet another kiss!
And scored, again.
“Call you when I get home, sweet cheeks.” He got into his car, and put it in reverse as he drove out of my complex.
I held my lip as I walked up the stairs, remembering that I needed to check my work and click submit on my midterm exam.
“Oh my damn.” I remember hearing myself say, wondering what was going to happen next.
I always find myself in a situation where a guy initially digs me, and just as I start to dig them back….
Damn, the one minute is up.
I could literally count on my hands how many more times I spoke to C after that night. We had a bomb conversation when he left the bar that evening, and we were up to almost 5:00AM.
I swear, conversations like that are rare these days.
As soon as I started to see C-Note as some potential, that’s when the actual potential, faded away.
What once used to be easy to shoot a text asking what he was up to for the day seemed like the hardest task. Phone calls that once rolled off the tongue could now not even get one syllable out.
C left your girl high and damn dry.
And of course, being a woman, the first thing I asked myself was, “Did I do something wrong?”
Hot for one minute, and cold the damn next.
I could ask this question to any guy, and most of them would probably give me this answer:
“Maybe he lost interest.”
Well, how Sway, how?
Am I the only woman who sees the difference in talking to someone every single day and then frowning up if two weeks goes by without hearing from them?
Guys love to get us women fired up and some try to get us loosened up, just for them, to chunk the deuces anyway.
That’s my definition of a one minute man.
Nothing sexual. Strictly based off personality.
Hot one minute, and freezing cold the next. Entering the Sahara just to vacate to Antarctica.
I busted my brain for two days straight, wondering what failed and was I the blame.
But baby, I can’t blame myself for actually being more than a One Minute thing.
C-Note isn’t the only One Minute Man I have encountered. The patterns of a One Minute Man are universal- as soon as you have realized that you actually have one-or had one– on your hands.
I mean, just as soon as things started to get heavy, you know, you actually think about this person in another dimension.
Then poof! Houdini couldn’t have done a better job than these types of cats.
Ladies, unfortunately, he could do all the right things in the beginning: being consistent, practicing communication, and making the active interest to get to know you and go out with you.
But there’s always the unknown in a man’s intentions.
Unless, you are indeed, dating, talking or messing with, a man.
Date with a purpose.
Fellas, if you know you don’t want anything close to serious, do not pursue a woman illustrating those characteristics.
Say what you mean and mean what you say.
And it is utterly complete bull when some guys say, “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”
MAN UP! You wouldn’t have to worry about her feelings if you would have just kept it a buck from the get go!
Men and women love to scream honesty, but hell, where is it when it’s time to actually date somebody? I mean, is dating not the building block to a successful relationship?
Fellas, stop demonstrating One Minute Man behavior, and maybe you could find something real in your life. Playing with the emotions of women is just a Karma I don’t think you would want to reckon with. Besides, what does that say about your character? Especially, as a man. Women don’t want a man who is wishy washy! Be firm in what you want and be firmer in what you believe in.
Ladies, don’t allow One Minute Man behavior. If he comes back, it’s up to you to see how much you will take before putting your foot down. By all means, you are not a revolving door. Don’t display yourself as one.
He wanted to act up the first time, I hope he is doing something meaningful while you give him a second try.
And ladies, we can be guilty of it too. Hitting up an old flame in our black book, with no intentions on taking him seriously, especially if we know that he wants us back! Ha! I love you ladies, but I have to call a timeout on that. As much as we don’t like being hot and heavy and being left high and dry, it isn’t the best thing to do it to the opposite sex, even if we do it for revenge, or just because it feels damn good.
I don’t want anything near a One Minute characteristic. I want something with longevity, something sustaining, something that will hardly ever extinguish my flame.
I date with a purpose. Despite the many buttholes and jockey straps of men I meet, I will always date with a purpose.
I encourage you to do the same. Be expressive when it comes to what you want out of who you date. Forget the fear of hurting someone’s feelings- it is best that they know.
So, fellas, if your old could-have-been-boo sees you at the mall, and she’s with your friends, don’t get mad when she hollers you’re a One Minute Man. Telling her girls that you are about the games, and there isn’t a serious bone in your body.
And when they begin to chuckle, roll their eyes, and sneer, because that girl was already gossiping with her girls, she could have threw in a lie or two in there.. You know, just to make you feel a little something.. they may end up thinking that you’re actually just that, by the true definition: A One Minute Man. No pumps necessary. Literally.
Wipe the yolk off your face, youngin’.
Listen to Toni, and just be a man about your intentions.
It isn’t that damn hard.
Date with a purpose and be about just that: your purpose.
Till next week.
The Urban Storyteller, Bree