What's A Brotha To Do

by Gregory L. Towns

It’s bad when a man’s worst fear in life becomes the walk into a restaurant having the hostess to yell out your name “table for one” all eyes are on you. Then the waiter asks as you are walking through the restaurant “will you be dining alone.” The world now knows your single and alone, the restaurant and the rest of the world knows your pathetic dilemma.

Can anyone tell me “What’s a BROTHA to do?” I’ve tried all the suggested ways of meeting and formulating a relationship with that special woman, all of which have backfired. I’ve done the personal ads, made the single scene, surfed the net, gone to the supermarket, tried church, and even craft groups to no avail. I have it on good authority that women are “WAITING TO EXHALE”.

I on the other hand just want to “Breathe”. I believe it’s not just sex – the physical part, it is not about the emotional connection, or spiritual revelation. It is somewhat simpler that all of that. Most men are just looking for someone to spend a quiet evening, share a funny thought, and have an active conversation. Something to look forward to, a telephone call or someone they long to see at the end of a hard workday. The same person that I believe men are looking for has to be accepting of spontaneous travel plans, of silly notes left on her car windshield, someone to depend on, someone to appreciate.

My simple goal this New Year is to hear Towns, party of two, instead of taking down one wineglass, I want two. I’m so pathetic, I secretly signed in to an online chat room as, get this “1loneheartnDC” and even talked for an hour to a telephone solicitor, the one that everyone tries to get rid of just to hear a female voice. While I’m driving I glance carefully at attractive women as I pass them by without as much as a return look. I don’t get it!

Let me stop here and take stock for myself. I’m tall 5’10” that’s tall as long as I’m not hanging out with NBA players, I’m dark not so much, Wesley Snipes dark, more Shamar Moore dark. Now I’m a big meaty guy kind of a cross between Denzel and a pizza truck on a Friday night delivery. Big brown eyes (one on each side of my face), hair (all of it) graying gracefully. Teeth (all of them too). I’m articulate, reasonably intelligent, in good physical health, I dress fashionable, watch my breath, practice good manners, don’t burp, scratch or grab myself in public. Mentally well, lets just say I’m functional and the brain operates at it’s own pace. Let’s see I’m also romantic, caring, soft spoken, understanding, compassionate and passionate, cuddly, sensitive, thoughtful, giving and don’t let me forget humble. All this and I’m sitting in the IHOP alone. “WHAT’S A BROTHA TO DO?”

I ask a few of my married or otherwise attached female friends to help me correct my imperfections. When the laughter stop and they composed themselves (one needed oxygen), as I was saying once they calmed down and said almost in one voice my main fault is that I’m a “MAN” antiquated, obsolete, one of a dying breed. Silly me I still believe that a Woman’s place is by her man’s side, I think that she should be treated with respect, held in high regard, adored, treated like fine crystal, savored like vintage wine, held gently. In these days where chivalry is dead I still like bowing to a woman, kissing her hand. Tipping or removing my hat when in the presents of a woman what’s wrong with opening doors standing when a woman enters a room, the next guy I see get out of a car and doesn’t hurry around to escort his companion out of that car I’m going to scream. All this in my character makeup and I’m still alone. “WHAT’S A BROTHA TO DO?”

This whole situation is down right depressing. Women do you mean if I was less attentive, ill mannered, violent, crazed, cruel or in jail I’d have a better chance with you? I’m beginning to worry that there is no clear signs anymore. In the pass a woman would let a brotha know what she expected, now some of you are willing to accept anything and everyone with making note of his character or his real qualifications.

Women often tell me there are no “GOOD” men left “Wrong” we are everywhere. You look at us everyday. It appears you look over us on your way to the nearest jail, or halfway house.

A little suggestion, take a look around you the next time your commuting to work or out running errands and you see that brotha in the uniform, carrying a messenger pouch, or the one not in the BROOKS BROTHERS suit, maybe you will give them a little attention. The mailman, UPS driver, security guard, or the waiters at your table they need love too. Find the time to consider us because we hate the sound “Table for one”.

Understand a table has four sides to sit four, or just a special ONE. Good men are everywhere; they are in various occupations at different educational levels, all sizes, shapes and manner of dress. We dress to impress you, we groom, smell good, and we gain more education, and acquire knowledge about who you are and what you want. We place our bodies before you. We place you on the highest pedestal just to be ignored, and shunned by some of you. I ask you ladies, “WHAT’S A BROTHA TO DO?”

What's A Brotha To Do by Gregory L. Towns

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