Complement or insult? It’s funny how you may have to work so hard to distinquish the two, and yet still fail miserably. Like how do we as men really want to be viewed? Don’t we all want women to find us attractive, sexy, desirable? But as we get older we may find there is a odd feeling that comes with it. It’s like you think, yes, I'm a bachelor, single, can be a playboy for as long as I want and have the ladies swooning over me and making me feel like da man, but then there comes the revelation, how do women REALLY see me? Am I someone they can picture having a relationship with? Or am I just the minute man?

Mainly this feeling may hit you if you have allowed yourself to became the married womens sidekick dick. The thing is, whereas women who mess around with married men are understood if they feel rejection or the i’m just being used feeling on holidays or when the sunday night dinners are going down, you know the poor little mistress thing? Yes we UNDERSTAND their pain. Whereas brothas aren’t giving that same sense of being understood. You aren’t suppose to complain, you are suppose to be glad for your freedom, glad you aren’t weighed down with a wife and kids, glad you only see the ladies at their very best physically. Yeah you’re suppose to feel like you’re da man, and men aren’t suppose to crave a commitment, that’s for ladies only, right?

Isn’t it odd how we have all, men and women, allowed ourselves to be put in molds as to what we should feel and what we should not when it comes to the opposite sex. As adults we tell kids to not allow themselves to be pulled along by peer pressure, to be your own person. But in reality, how unique are WE as adults? And do we brothas really have to wait until we mature, meaning until we reach 40 sumpin’ before we stop caring whether our other male friends think we’re da man or not, but rather, whether we are individually behaving as men.

Compliment of insult? I guess the truth is being the other man, can be just as insulting and foul as sistahs being the other woman. Because it still makes you a momentary thing, a deletion of your self-worth, or just a minute man.