The Mixed Signals of Male Responsibility

If I'm wrong, correct me, but wasn't it not that long ago that men were talking about how much they wanted an independent woman? Didn't Ne-Yo even make a song about it, "Miss Independent"? I swear it wasn't even 10 years ago when men pushed women into the world of going dutch on meals and half on rent. Men were literally saying that having any responsibility towards women was making their booties itch, and the word "provider" became up for interpretation. Boy have the tides changed!  Now, a growing community of men want a housewife who gives them full control over their lives. They now not only want to be your man, but your dad as well! This realization hit me like a bag of bricks during a conversation with Coffee. He discussed very eloquently how a woman's real value is in being a wife, and he would exercise full veto power over anything she may want to do. I mean, parts of the conversation were out-and-out jaw dropping and no, he wasn't kidding. He even said that he'd refuse to marry a woman who ever told him he couldn't tell her what to do. According to him, a woman with that attitude would rather be single. He even seems to hold great disdain for Miss Independent qualities like wanting to travel or have a say. I mean, what's going on??

The word on the curb is that the Boss Babe era is over and now the younger generation of women would rather be trad wives than CEOs. This may be true for some, but I suspect these things come in cycles. 10-20 years from now, those women will be complaining about feeling suffocated in the home, financially deprived, and wanting to get out and work. I guess it's a testimony to how well women fought for rights that today's younger girls don't even remember forced home life to the point that they want to return to it. Whoever said history repeats itself wasn't joking, but can we return to a time of gaucho pants and not to one of female suppression? 

P made a good point the other day: I'm old. He said hopefully, as the old women die off, the world can get back to a point of female obedience. I resent this idea that women have to be Stepford Wives for men to feel powerful, but that's where we are.  As the women's right to abortion has been revoked and our right to vote is now up for discussion, it saddens me to see women eagerly walk off the side of the cliff and siding with this extra toxic form of patriarchy. I guess I should be excited about this as a feminist. If feminism is about making your own choices than these young trad wives are making the choice to be incredibly dependent on a man independently. 

Homecoming Post 5: Invisiblisha: Another Drexel Wife Mystery

I ran into Golden Boy on the yard, and by ran into, I mean I was sitting down and he walked in front of me. I never miss an opportunity to hug him because I'm a creeper, and I can feel his muscles through his shirt, and if I hug him strategically, I can rub his back and arms in one smooth swoop, a move I creatively call "The Holly". But I didn't get to Holly him this go round. He seemed to be very worried and preoccupied. 

"What's wrong?" I asked. 

He turned his back to me and looked out into the huge crowd. " I can't find Invisiblisha, my wife," he said, distracted, before he ran off.

I jumped when I heard Golden Boy say wife. It was weird, like hearing a baby curse. I know he has a wife, just like I know the moon is made of cheese. However, like many Drexel wives, she is a bit of an urban legend. On top of that, it is hard to believe that Golden Boy even has a wife, considering what a mimbo he used to be. He also reminded me of a Black Fonzie from Happy Days. Did The Fonz ever get married?

The only girlfriend I knew him to have in school was older than us and scary. Bossy Boots had a way of ordering people around that should be studied by the Navy Seals. After that, it was a revolving door of girls he didn't seem too attached to, and the ones he didn't bone he'd dry hump on the dance floor. Some girls have all the luck. 

I remember I told him once when we were in school that I had heard a group of girls referring to him as a ho, but that I stepped in and told them that wasn't true. 

"Aw, yes, it is," he'd said. He had on his Greek jacket, collar popped, and was sitting in a chair with his feet up on a table in the University Center because he was cool like that. "But it's good to know someone is standing up for me out here."

I watched as Golden Boy pushed through the crowd, looking for his wife. I mean, he was really looking for her. This made me wonder what type of woman can make a promiscuous boy turn into the type of grown man who looks like he is going to cry if he gets separated from her in a crowd. 

That is where my investigation began. 

THE INVESTIGATION 

It is important that you understand my dedication to solving a puzzle to get the footwork it took to find info on this woman. I promise you, I asked every other person who passed me at the tailgate, "Do you know this lady?" And from this Pulitzer-worthy journalistic labor, I discovered two things: she is alive and biologically female. WHAT IS IT WITH THESE DREXEL WIVES?! Are they all farts in the wind? Sitting under the tailgate tent of people who didn't know me and were obviously wondering where I came from, I could feel Invisiblisha in the atmosphere. Breathing. Surveying. Thinking. Ovulating. I have never been married, so I think that a reason why the Invisiblisha caliber of wife confuses me is because if I did have a husband, everyone on Earth would know we were together. People would recognize me from a mile away. I am constantly confused by these Invisiblishas who let their husbands free, out into the wild to be groped by weirdos like me. 

Although I couldn't tell Invisiblisha from a hole in the wall, if she's reading this, I want her to know I see her in the shadows, very much giving Carmen Sandiego vibes. Funny, I don't think anyone ever found Carmen either. 

P and the Second Wife

As many of you know, my friend P has been a consistent part of my life and this blog for a while. He's my mildly douchey Muslim bff from college. For those of you who don't know, I used to like him, he didn't like me, we somehow forged a friendship despite his personality and my emotions, he went to Africa to get married and moved his wife and son here shortly after. Yes, there have been a lot of changes in the past ten years, but I think that biggest change is yet to come.
"What would you say if I told you that I was going to get a second wife?" he asked me out of the blue during one of our latest conversations.
"Would it be me?" I asked.
"No."
"Then I don't care," I quipped. That was my way of ending the conversation. Needlesstosay, I am not really down with the multiple wives deal, and we have discussed it over and over again over the years. You see, him having up to four wives is part of his rights as a Muslim man. Now, let's get to the good part: how P's personal life and decisions affect me.
For one, it is a miracle that we are still friends now that he is married. As you all know well, when my male friends have gotten a wife or even so much as a steady girlfriend they have dropped me like a bad habit. By the grace of God, his wife likes me, or at least tolerates me enough to let me stick around. Who knows what the second wife will think of me. I imagine that she will be looking at me with the same side eye that I will be looking at her with.
I'm old and I have taken a Drake outlook on life: no new friends. P is a big part of my friend circle, and if he flies the coupe, that will be a big hole to fill. Not wanting him to do something that would make him happy because of what the outcome would be for me is selfish, but it's where I'm at. My life is a house of cards. One freak move, like P taking on a second family, could cause my whole house to crumble. And quite frankly, I don't think I have enough juice life in me to try to impress another one of my guy friends' ladies. It just takes too much.
You have to be able to provide the same household for your second wife as you did the first, which takes a lot of money. So it may be a minute before P jumps the broom again. I guess this gives me time to prepare to be friend dumped AGAIN. Sigh.

Meet the Hollands

Recently, I met P's wife and sons.
I am not sure if I have updated you properly on P's life in some time, but here is the long and short of it: P now has a wife and sons. It is so crazy seeing this guy that I went to college with, a guy that used to smoke pot and try to be a player, now as a devoted Muslim with a family. I mean, it's really wild.
Since the day that he got married, I have pretty much been insistent on meeting his wife. And since the day he got married, he has been coming up with excuses as to why it would never happen. But it happened randomly and I was excited about the meet and greet...until I remembered The Miami Disaster.
I think most of you all recall the nightmare that was me meeting Brownie and his fiance now ex-wife in Miami. An evening of light conversation and drinks at the hotel bar ended in me being accused of having sex with him and him getting ditched on the curb while she stormed off in a tantrum. And then there is Quinny's wife. She has never told me to my face that she doesn't like me. I just got the feeling that she didn't when my invitation to her and Quinny's wedding got lost in the mail. As a typical rule of thumb, the lady friends of my male homies hate me.
This continued to run across my mind as I met P's wife. She is really pretty and nice and sweet. But the issue has never been me liking the girl. I felt like I was in a job interview. I really didn't want to mess up. Because if experience has taught me anything, it's that these dudes ain't loyal. I just knew if I said one off thing, I could kiss my friendship to P goodbye.
But everything went well. I really enjoyed meeting her. It went so well, in fact, that I wondered if I should try to get a redo with some other shakey situations I am in with the wives of my male bffs. I know, I know. Baby steps.