This post has been brought on by a bit of a coincidence. My good buddy Chancellor Sherman sent out one of his classic e-mails to a list of us the other day decrying how many women in his life expect him to do things a boyfriend does (rides to the airport and the likes) without doing things that girlfriends do (you know what’s up). The Chancellor’s pain was felt.
Two days earlier, I had to inform a friend of mine–who is married, no less–that she really shouldn’t call me on my day minutes to tell me a somewhat mundane story about how her boss aggravated her during lunch break. That story definitely fell under well-known heading known as, “lemme tell you what this (chick, girl, broad, ho, bitch, whatever) did at work.”
This also falls under the purview of your man. In that case, your husband.
Why bring these things up? Because I think it’s time that someone made it clear that there are some things that your man should be taking care of, not me. Why not me? Because unless your last name is Knowles, I ain’t your man.

1.Rides to the airport for 6am flights. See, Young Baba has had to pay a lot for parking at the airport this year. Why? Because it is always my preference to catch the first flight out when I’m taking a trip for business. That means that whoever would be taking me to the airport would have to come and get me at 4 to get me to the airport at 4:30, just in case I have to go through the full Osama at the security checkpoint.
I ain’t askin nobody to take me to the airport at 4 unless we got a lil’ something goin’. And by a lil’, I mean a lot. The only time I’ve asked for help doing that involved me parking my car at a hotel in Atlanta because my buddy worked there, catching a shuttle to Hartsfield, and then asking him to drive my car home. Why was that okay? Because I dropped the car off at 5 and he drove the car home when he got off work at 7.
Ladies, want a ride for that 6am flight? Don’t call me. That’s right–go getcha man. Ain’t got one? Learn to appreciate the convenience of not having to wait for your ride home.
2.Lemme tell ya what this _____ did at work. Got a secret for you, ladies–even when we’re your mens, we don’t wanna hear those stories. We do it, but not because we love you. We do it because we have to. But see, if I ain’tcha man, I ain’t gotta do jack. If your man don’t wanna hear it, I promise you your boy don’t wanna hear it. If your boy sits through it, chances are that he wants to be your man. That’s not cute, is it?
So ask yourself–does the person I’m calling at 3pm wanna hear this story? If you’re not sure, put the phone down. More importantly, ask yourself this–is this story even funny? Out of the ordinary? Does it involve midgets on crutches or something else that seems impossible to imagine? Worth pulling out the camera phone? If not, then keep it to you.
And definitely do not call twice in two days. Go getcha man.
3.Moving. Another suggestion from the Chancellor. I’m of the belief that you learn who your friends are when you’re getting ready to move. Default Dave will always be my boy because he helped me move into Bomaniland, as did Ashy Larry and Young Ernesto.
Now ladies, gotta be real careful about who you call on moving duty. Really, I think I can name every woman I’ll drop it all to help move. Their names are…ummm, Leonore. I think that’s it. Leonore has a man, but I’ll help her move because she’s fam. That, my friends, is about it. Otherwise, getcha man. He’s got friends.
I do have a friend here I’ll help move, but only because her spinster training is going too well, and she’d be waiting until the day they have the Baghdad Winter Olympics to get someone to help her move.
The rest of youse–go getcha man.
4.Am I fat?
Maybe, maybe not. But here’s the thing–chances are you won’t believe me when I tell you you’re not, and you’ll get pissed if I say you are. So, ask your man. He has to put up with that stuff. I don’t. Need a token compliment to make you feel better? Go getcha man.
5.Wanna go to the mall?
Hell no, I don’t wanna go to the mall. What, walk around carrying your bags? Please. I can’t even get at no chicks when I’m at the mall with you. So you wanna go get cute for the summer, go get your girls. Even better…go getcha man.
I’m sure there are more on this kick. What do you think is a reason to call your man, not your boy?
That’s right–go getcha man. You know the deal.