Apparently Huggy is a big hit with a few of my readers and due to a couple emailed requests for more details on the woman behind the cuddly nickname I have decided to dedicate an entire blog post to her. An entire blog dedicated to a woman other than my mother. Well there’s a first time for everything.

Me and Huggy met under some truly strange circumstances I think. We met in the emergency room of the hospital at 3 AM. My goal keeper teammate for one of my indoor soccer teams had dislocated his shoulder and I was with him in one of the patient rooms waiting for a doctor when in walked Huggy.

Huggy was the nurse on shift that night and she was amazingly pleasant for someone working at 3 in the morning, and she even looked cute in her hospital green scrubs (quite a mean feat that seeing as how scrubs just look like pajamas to me). She was very attentive, offered us both a cup of coffee or water, and asked what we were doing playing soccer so late at night. I explained it was an after work league and we had the late game.

A sucker for flawless skin I thought Huggy was attractive and more my “type” physically than some of the women I had dated in the past. She was petite, had smooth, dark skin, one eye that seemed somewhat smaller than the other (its actually kind of cool in a weird way), and sharp dark features. But what really got my attention was her smile. The kind of smile that contrasted pearl white, pretty teeth with mahogany-hued skin. A smile that showed she had a mischievous side to her, revealed when she silently mouthed to me to hold my teammates hand while the doctor popped his shoulder back in socket. Being the manly, man that I am, I was not about to hold a grown mans hand in the hospital like that and I pretended to not understand what she was getting at. I shook my head, gave her a confused look, and mouthed back a silent “Whaaat?!” She smiled that zany, mischievous smile I have come to like so much that said “I know exactly why you won’t hold the poor guys hand… punk!” It wasn’t hard after that to finagle a phone number out of her while she filled out some release forms.

We didn’t meet again until two or three weeks after that. She was moving and had planned a trip to the Bahamas and California with some friends and was gone for the next two weeks. During that time, thinking she wasn’t interested enough, I kind of forgot about her until she sent a message to my MySpace page. She was apparently interested enough. We spoke on the phone for a little while. She talked. I listened. Then we met for dinner one day, a movie the next.

Initially our relationship never moved past the platonic. She had recently gotten out of a relationship and just wanted friends for the moment, which was fine with me. But there was a comfort level between us that I had not felt in a long time. Huggy would burp or fart or spit around me shamelessly and none of it disgusted me in the least bit as there was a femininity in the way she did even the most masculine things. Then she would just smile and look at me. The more I saw her the more comfortable I felt hanging out with her and the more she would surprise me each and every time with some unexpected action. Once she hugged me for what must have been close to an hour after dropping her home from one of our dates (which she always insisted were not dates). She just hugged me without saying a word. Another time she had me help her take her weave tracks out.

More recently Huggy has expressed that she does like me. And I like her too… but I am still a little wary. Not wary of Huggy, mind you, but more wary of myself. I have developed a tendency to “lose interest” in women not long after learning that they want more than a friendship. The residual effects of having been hurt in the past? Maybe. But for now I am satisfied with the relationship I do have with Huggy. No pressure. No commitment. Plenty of hugs.

Well thats it! My 20s are officially done. Over with. Kaput. I quietly turned the big 3-0 this weekend. There was no fanfare. No drum rolls or trumpets. No huge surprise birthday party or naked girlfriend bursting out of a giant cake. None ah dat.

Instead I spent a simple day climbing/hiking the incline – a 1 mile stretch of gravel and railroad ties. The incline gains 2,011 feet, topping out at 8,585 feet. It takes approximately 2,696 steps to get to the top. In comparison, the Empire State Building gains 1,224 feet and has 1,860 steps to the observatory on the 102nd floor.

And I enjoyed it!

I have never been one to celebrate big on my birthday. I hate when too much attention is lumped on me for something I really did nothing to earn. If anything its my mother who deserves all the praise for that right? So when my birthday finally came around this Saturday I was determined to spend it the same way I spent the last 10 birthdays – on my sofa watching TV. Well I was until Huggy called.

“Hey. What’re you doing?”

“Laying in bed trying to remember what I was doing on this same day 10 years ago.”

“Yeah? Well skip that… want to do the incline with me?”

I had heard of this incline. Heard how it ripped the hearts out of many a grown man. Tried it once. Got to the top in just under an hour gasping, wheezing and trying in vein to ignore the intense pain in my calves and thigh muscles. I had vowed then that it just wasn’t worth it to ever attempt doing it again. But women have a way of making me say and do strange things. No wonder Adam ate that damn apple.

“Uhmmm.. What time is it? 9:20? Yeah. Ok. Why not? Its just over 2000 steps at a 60 degree angle straight up the side of a mountain at over 6000 feet of elevation. Precisely what I prayed to God for on my birthday. Thank you God!”

“Oh stop being a damn wuss! It’ll be fun!”

So I drove over to Huggy’s place, picked up three of her friends, and went off to conquer the incline. At first me and Huggy paired up while her three friends, a girl (Asia) and two guys (Egypt and England), took the lead. Asia (not her real name) had recorded some pretty fast times doing the incline before and she routinely ran six miles a day and you could tell she was competitive as she started off as if there were a hot plate of food waiting for her at the top. Egypt, a skinny, self-proclaimed semi-professional football player was next. Huggy had told me that she went on one date with him and that she thought he still liked her. Maybe he thought this was his chance to impress her. England, who supposedly had a crush on Asia, was built like a boxer and had powerful arms, shoulders, and a huge chest. His legs were skinny for his size though and somehow I knew that would weigh against him. I brought up the rear, part because I didn’t care to race anyone to the top, and part because I had a great view of Huggy’s cute little ass wiggling as she struggled up the steps. Adam never stood a chance with that whole apple thing did he?

As we near the half-way mark I am finding the going remarkably easy. I guess all my football games have conditioned me better than I thought. Huggy is struggling a little and I tell her to pace herself. As I predicted, England is hunched over to the side spitting and dry heaving. There is just no way those toothpick legs can carry his massive torso. No way. I offer him some water and decide I had better stay with him before he feints. I had no desire to describe to a local news crew how this guy fell backwards down 800 steps to his death. Not on my watch.

We eventually all make it up with me and England being the last ones. England had to stop every 10 steps to either gag, or crouch over holding his head, or both at the same time. Huggy’s friends decide to go back down the way they came. Me and Huggy take the Bar Trail (a two mile see-saw windy jogging trail) back down. On the way down she stops, turns to face me, and gives me one of her zany grins (I so usually don’t do zany… but something about her… ).

“I like you.”

“Huh? What did you say?”

“I really like you…”

Now Huggy had taken to routinely telling me she liked me at the most random times. But this revelation seemed different. More serious.

“Well I like you t…”

She kissed me. Like Eve must have kissed Adam to get him to do something as crazy as disobeying his omnipotent creator. It has been awhile since a kiss had me feeling light-headed (or maybe that was the altitude).

“I like you too.”

I did like her. Huggy was so charmingly honest with me all the time it was hard not to like her. She hid nothing and was ashamed of nothing. I find that quality enchantingly attractive being as private a person as I am (yes… I know I publicly blog.. but thats different). For once I am glad I didn’t spend my birthday on the couch. Adam was probably just as glad he ate that apple.

Disclaimer: This is not really a mushy post, though it may read like one. I am a manly man. In fact I spent the rest of the day playing tackle football, shredding huge chunks of beef with just my teeth, and hunting for mountain lions. Thats as manly as it gets people. Nothing to see here… move along!

Control. Its one of the most sought after intangibles in life. We all seek control in some (if not all) areas of our lives. Unfortunately, we don’t always get what we want.

I have been single now for a good three years and counting (has it been that long already?). Previous to my current interval of singleness I had been in three consecutive relationships spanning a period of roughly eight years. Each relationship had similar starts: boy meets girl… boy finds girl irresistibly attractive… boy prays to God to allow him to get with said girl in return for promising to be good for as long as he possibly can. My approach may have been slightly on the pathetic/desperate side but it worked every single time. Or mayhap God just really wanted me to start being good. Either way I ended up with the girl of my dreams (at the time) and never had to settle.

The last three years of being single have seen an unprecedented number of prospectives come and go; none of them triggering the need to negotiate or campaign favors with the man upstairs. During this time I have observed an interesting phenomena: the more control I seemed to have in my dealings with a woman the more interested she appeared to be in me. The consistency of the phenomena has prompted me to label it the law of attractive control.

The Law Of Attractive Control; the law states that once control is introduced to a relationship between a male, A and a female, B, the amount of control attained by A in the relationship is diminishingly proportional to how attractive they become to B. The converse is not necessarily true. Neither is the inverse or any other “verses”. *

Allow me to explain. As a man you may have wondered about the accuracy of the age old saying “nice guys finish last” as well as the penchant for women to gravitate towards guys who seemed to rank a little high on the “bad boy” scale. The Law Of Attractive Control explains away these seemingly confounding situations. Men who act aloof or don’t fall over themselves to please women tend to attract more women. Is it because they just don’t appear to be desperate? Is it that women feel the need to step up to the challenge of a guy who isn’t as in to them as they should be? Or is there something strangely charismatic about a guy who doesn’t act like the world revolves around a woman, but instead has other focal points in his life? A combination of all three? Whatever the reason… place a woman on a pedestal and you risk giving her too much control as well as reducing that masculine characteristic that the woman probably found attractive in the first place.

Now its important to note that this is a law of diminishing marginal returns. Meaning that enacting an increasing measure of control over a relationship will result in increasingly less desire for the relationship. Enacting too much control will have negative results. The law is not a license to be a jerk, or ignore your woman or love interest. It’s really only a reminder to not be a doormat.

Here are some tips on how to put the law to work for you:

1. Don’t be a punk.

Women can sniff out desperation and insecurity from a mile away. So don’t act desperate, pandering to their every desire or acting like they are doing you a favor by dating you. Don’t let her use her feminine wiles to get you to do ridiculously inconvenient things (like walking in the rain at 4AM in the morning to get coffee from Walmart). All that does is result in your being sexploited and in her losing respect for you while continuing to take advantage of you.

2. Sex is a two way street.

Apart from greed and ESPN, sex has historically been one of man’s greatest weaknesses. Women know they can control men with sex. But here’s the secret… your sexuality has worth too! More worth than women are willing to admit. Sure they will spite themselves to prove a point by denying you sex during an argument that has nothing to do with sex… but thats all a part of their attempts to control you. Turn the tables a little. Don’t always initiate sex or jump at every chance to have sex with her. The more she thinks she can get it any time she wants it is the less she will want it. Remember she has to earn it too.

3. Say no to pedestals!

Women love to be put on pedestals. But this really does not work to your advantage. Instead it gives off the illusion that they are some great prize that you must prove yourself worthy to attain. Not so. The RELATIONSHIP is the prize that you BOTH are seeking to attain and must both work at equally.

4. She isn’t always right.

Sometimes its just not your fault. Sometimes she’s just plain wrong. Don’t be afraid to tell her. A woman will respect you if you are man enough to stand up to her. Just remember to be consistent with this. It doesn’t work if you are man enough to stand up to her but then agree with everything that the lady with the huge rack at the gym tells you.

* The laws of relationships do not work, in any way, akin to the laws of science: They are not consistent across the board and often are complicated by a plethora of factors that usually end up nullifying the rule in and of itself. Beware.

I noticed her while playing indoor football (soccer for you Americans). She sat in the bleachers watching someone she knew play. I casually checked her out from a distance while I sat on the bench catching a breather: caramel-brown complexion, darkly sharp (or sharply dark?) features, athletic petite build, and a mega-watt smile.

Like most guys it was probably embarrassingly obvious that I was checking her out. Like most guys I hadn’t an inkling that she was doing the same. After three more days of me doing absolutely flippant soccer tricks, scoring acrobatic, but unnecessary goals, constantly finding reasons to change my shirt mid-game while sweat dripped down my mahogany-sculpted body (so I’m conceited… bite me), and her acting as if I were a piece of white lint on a white carpet, I finally got tired of the theatrics and just went and introduced myself.

Then it all came out:

“Oh! The first time I saw you I was like, ‘Who is that?!’”

“I stayed after all my games just to watch you play!”

“My favourite part was when you would change your shirt after the game!”

What’s wrong with women?! Why is it so hard to emote what you’re feeling? What’s the worst that could happen? Rejection? Is the fear of rejection that great? Is rejection somehow worse for women that it could possibly be for men?

I remember the first time I got rejected by a woman… er… OK… I probably can’t remember the first time. But the first time that I CAN remember being rejected was when Nicole Powell told me to “get lost!” at my annual high school barbecue. Of course that was because I had also accidentally spilled a plate of curry goat on her brand new, spotlessly, white Reeboks. Irrespective of why I got rejected I was understandably discouraged from approaching girls for awhile after that. Eventually I got egged into approaching a much older lady who worked as a cashier at a jewelry store. She had to have been at least 10 years my senior, but my “friends” told me she was a sure target and one even bragged of “getting some” from her before. I was young, so, after walking casually past the front of the store at least 18 times, I went in, tried to hit on her and quite rightly got my ego battered, bruised, and trod on… several times. While the immediate result was my ego on life support at the Kingston Public Hospital, the long-term results were actually beneficial: if I could summon the courage to approach a grown-ass woman like that, then approaching pubescent girls in my age group was a cake-walk… and after the verbal and physical assault I was put through on that fateful day there was nothing those high school girls could do or say to me that would remotely compare. I guess it kind of armored me, and, based on the actions of my other male cohorts, I would assume that they too had been similarly vaccinated against rejection.

Many women seem to lack this vaccination. As a result of this (in combination with societal pressure) many women seem to think that ignoring a guy is a good way to get his attention. Acting like you don’t notice him. Looking away quickly while playfully tussling your hair when he stares at you. Walking right past him without nearly a glance in his direction. Sitting down with your arms folded and that “don’t fuck with me today” look on your face. All of that translates to “not interested” to most guys.

But don’t worry. I am here to help… here is a list of things you can do that won’t quite throw you in front of the rejection bus, but will still get your intentions across:

1. Ladies… maintain eye contact. In fact, go out of your way to make eye contact with guys. Your eyes are the windows to your vagin… I mean souls. Also learn to be expressive with your eyes. Don’t just stare with a blank expression. Try to seem mischievous or pleasant or… drum roll… interested. If the guy does not make a move no one will be the wiser. And you can make up a ton of reasons for the let down: Intimidation. Shyness. Gayness.
2. Appear approachable. I know this one sounds tricky but its really not that hard. All you have to do is stop glaring like someone kicked your puppy all the time.
3. Just stand next to us. Do you know how many women I decided not to go talk to just because I did not want to lose my spot at the bar? Better yet order a drink right beside him. If he is interested you just gave him a great chance to prove it.
4. Dance by yourself as opposed to with your girlfriend. Dancing with your girlfriend only results in the interested guy gawking and wondering if he is witnessing some bona fide lesbo action in the making. Alternatively, dance with multiple guys while he watches. This will make him think you are approachable. Just don’t over do it. You don’t want him thinking you will dance with ANYBODY.
5. Find reasons to go off by yourself without your girlfriends in tow. Women are like wolves in a pack and can appear intimidating to some guys. Guys tend to hunt alone or with his one wing man… so straying from the pack a little can open up the opportunity for the guy (provided he is interested) to stalk his prey.

I know its kind of early to be writing you and I sincerely hope that when these few words reach you, that you are in the best of health. Christmas is still a pretty long way away, but what I am about to ask for may take you sometime to acquire and package in time. So I figured I would spot you just over four months to make it happen.

You do remember that one year when I asked for a Beyonce/Jay Z break up and instead you gave me a Ciara/Bow Wow split? Or the year I got the Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction when you knew I wanted… OK so I did ask for a Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction, but it was supposed to be both tits gosh darn it! Last year I asked for a Whitney Houston comeback, but no… you had to go with a whacked out Lauren Hill. Based on over a decade of near misses I am pleading that you only get this one right. Please.

Santa, my only Christmas want this year is the perfect woman. That’s all. I know its not much, but your track record speaks for itself and hence I have decided to provide you with a list of criteria so you can’t possibly mess this one up. The following represents everything I want in a woman: 

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  1. She watches SportsCenter on the regular and believes that if there is nothing interesting on the TV that SportsCenter is the default.
  2. She NEVER turns the channel to Lifetime, Oxygen, or TLC.
  3. She quits her supermodel job after she realizes that taking care of my kids is a far more satisfying experience.
  4. She is a recovering nymphomaniac, but my very presence triggers constant relapses.
  5. She took gymnastics and contortionist lessons awhile back for no real reason, but finds interesting ways to put those life lessons to use.
  6. Years of being a Victoria Secret model has made her allergic to wearing underwear.
  7. She thinks that cleaning and cooking for me makes her feel more like a woman.
  8. After losing in the final round of Hell’s Kitchen she feels oath bound to prove to me that she should have been the final chef standing.
  9. She believes me when I tell her that she is more suited for washing dishes because her smaller feet allow her to stand much closer to the kitchen sink than I ever could.
  10. She insists on taking a 10 month vacation during her pregnancy because she can’t stand the thought of looking fat in front of me.
  11. You can scrap the previous 10 criteria if the woman you bring me is Sanaa Lathan.

I require at least 8 out of the 10 criteria unless you get me the woman who meets the 11th criteria.

Sincerely yours,

Fiyah

P.S. If I hear that you are divorcing Mrs. Claus for the perfect woman I will send notice to my fellow Jamaicans living in Jamaica of an impending gay parade on Christmas Eve heralded by a reindeer-driven float and a chi-chi man in ah red and white jump suit. Serious ting.