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Written By: The Unsung Romantic

Her Codename: Mini-Carrie Bradshaw

Category: Fairy Tales

I know what you might be thinking. Any time that a girl uses the word “big” and associates it with a man, the first thought is that she must truly be referring to the size of our penis. What else could it be? On the other hand, there is the dreaded “big teddy bear,” which in lies the problem that you are nothing more than a cuddly, wuddly safe friend who in our male psyche we do not always grasp and still believe that even a teddy bear can get laid. The truth is that when this mujer stated the words to me, “You’re so like my big …”, she was referring to the television bible for women of the last decade – Sex and the City (SATC). 

My reactionary internal monologue – “%^&$! that god damn whore of a show and the incurable STD it gave this city.”

Yes, I know who Mr.  Big  is in that dreaded show.  Just like all good soldiers I was dutiful and watched this crap over the course of its never ending run through the scores of SATC influenced girls I dated. Not only was I dutiful, but three steps ahead of the game on female counter intelligence operations. I usually save this for the end, but here is a quick piece of advice: Watch the show, plus the two movies. On top of that, make sure every time you are at the doctor’s office or at any location where females are the primary customer, read Cosmo. Do you think I am crazy? I am not fucking joking around with this. Cosmo, was the old SATC and in a strange universe, they’re  both one in the same. The array of misinformed, subjective and irrational advice given in that monthly rag, coupled with a decade of Carrie Bradshaw and her inconceivable escapades have transformed the landscape of rational (if there ever was such a thing) expectations women (girls) expect of men (not boys).

Look, we can get into a whole debate about how that show empowered women across the country (especially carpetbagging transients who moved here from middle-America in search for the glamorous city life,), but this kind of crazy manifestation of a new breed of women has nothing to do with the show being a top-notch production. It was, I tip my cap to that. It’s about the drowning effect it had on millions of women who are between the ages of 25-40 in present day. It created a false sense of reality. It made all of us fellas into living, breathing embodiments of all the male characters in that show. It made us men to be fictional beings. And for an unknown percentage of the women who watched the show, it turned them back into little girls in search of the great knight on his white horse. I’ve dated a lot of these women retarded into girls, but it was this one particular Big incident that made me realize I had two choices: 1) Either be her “Big” and let her ride out the fantasy, or 2) Convince her I am not “Big”, but I’m better than him and I’m real.

So yes, I know very well who Big is, but I still  have no idea what that fucking means to this day. Do you? Maybe you can help out on this one. Here are my quick  theories on what the incarnations of real world “Bigs” are:

Big 1: I’m a perpetual commitment-phobe. When the kitchen gets to hot, I toss her a fire extinguisher and dash for the nearest fire escape. I’m never around when she needs him. I’m sensitive to her cries at night, but only from a phone call or text away – never in person. I just don’t want anyone controlling my life. I am not cheater, but I need eternal autonomy and distance when I please.

Big 2: Charming. Dashing. Loving. Shares all my adventures with her. Make her feel as if she is the only girl in the world. Tell her she’s the most perfect thing he has ever met in my life, but … I won’t ever get married.

Big 3: I’m in love with women. Not one, but many. She wants me to be just in love with her, but she cannot change me. She knows I am this way, but will refuse to leave me. She hates me and she loves me equally. I can only show love for her, but she cannot understand how I can love so many. I must just hate her.

Big 4: I love her. I want marriage, but not now. I want children, but not now. I want to divert my energy from my career to my future wife, but it’s not time yet. I don’t want, think or flirt with the idea of another, but she tells me that can’t be because I am a man. I believe we live slow, beautiful lives, but we are moving too fast now for that to be. I love her and will marry her, but just not now, therefore I don’t really love her enough.

The truth is all of those versions of “Big” have a lot of truth in how these girls, maybe even women, see us. It’s their projections of how they want us to be so their insecurities, fears and emotions remain unhinged by the reality of a real guy in the world. You see, the television show ended with Carrie quietly winning over Big over the course of many years, therefore never having to doubt that he may still have been one of those guys mentioned above that will do nothing more than break her heart. It’s that fairy tail many girls want to live.

It’s the tail that beauty can control the beast, with one major difference in the stories. Beauty never changed who the Beast was, she just unveiled the real him. Carrie did end up changing Big, which only will lead to one thing … the return of the real Big.

I said above that I had two choices: 1) Either be her “Big” and let her ride out the fantasy, or 2) Convince her I am not “Big”, but I’m better than him and I’m real. I chose number 2 and that eventually led to the end, but she still does contact me. Why? Because this “Kind of Crazy” is the fairy tale kind who will forever see her life as the greatest drama ever told in story. Your choice is whether you can handle the crazy of a fictional tale for the sake of love or show her that non-fiction is a much better story because it hasn’t been written yet.

Background Check: Mini-Carrie Bradshaw also ended up being a fan of another great work of art, Grey’s Anatomy. Drama knows drama.

Do you have a “That’s Kind of Crazy” you want to share? Spill it and we’ll tell it.

Cheers,

The Unsung Romantic

He’s right, every dude should study up on Sex and the City to know what kind of bullshit they’re feeding women these days

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Miss Singlefied will be answering dating questions LIVE tonight on Uvidy.  You can also get your dating questions early by submitting here.

 

Hope everyone stays safe.  And most importantly, go get laid already.

 

This post really has nothing to do with dating advice, but it’s still a pretty random story.  Basically, this weekend I walked into a store to try on ugly dresses and walked out with a wedding gown for $0.01 (a penny).  I’m looking to donate the gown!  Please find the full story here: www.OneCentWeddingDress.com.

Singlefied.com recommends ZICO Pure Premium Coconut Water, now on sale at Amazon.com!

Please welcome our second male contributor, The Unsung Romantic, who will be alternating posts with Dick Lambert.  The Unsung Romantic is what many would call a Euromerican. He is a lover, a hunter and a fighter all rolled into one overly complicated contradiction of a modern day American playboy. He’s dated mother-daughter combinations, Thai nannies, has almost been married, has fathered unborn children and has more fetishes than noted on your favorite porn site. All this aside, he loves the essence of woman for every perfect imperfection they have, believes there really is one woman (at least) out there that makes a man lose all sense of consciousness and understands men are from Mars and women are from another completely uncharted parallel universe.

“Heroes take journeys, confront dragons, and discover the treasure of their true selves.”

– Carol Lynn Pearson

Wanna win over a girl? Try these magical lyrics. I don’t know what girl wouldn’t put out for a line like, “She began to blush, I heard her coochi whistle.” Full lyrics below and this site explains what each line means.

How you like your eggs, fried or fertilized?
The way you move your hips, girl, make me hypnotized
How you like your eggs, fried or fertilized?
Fried or fertilized?
Fried or, fried or fertilized?
Fried or, fried or fertilized?
Fried or, fried or fertilized?
Fried or, fried or fertilized?
The way you move your hips, girl, make me hypnotized

[Verse 1: Yung Humma]

Yung Humma
Early in the morning, ’bout nine o’clock
Had a freak last night. Made her body rock
Feeling kind of groggy. Stomach toss and turning
She said, “Was that your belly or was it birds chirping?”
I said that I was hungry. She said, “Baby, me too
Why don’t we go out and get us some breakfast food?”
We ain’t gotta leave to get no breakfast food
‘cuz I’m a lady tamer and a chef too
So I began to cook
Could tell I had her shook
She wasn’t ready for the recipe in Humma’s book!

[Verse 2: Yung Humma]

She said, “I love the eggs. What did you do to ’em?
The way they smell and taste really got a girl drooling.”
I knew that you would like it. Why you so surprised?
How you like your eggs, fried or fertilized?
Fried or fertilized? Baby, I’m confused!
Don’t be offended. You got it misconstrued
When I say “fried,” I’m talking breakfast eggs
But when I fertilize, those the eggs between your legs
She began to blush. I heard her coochie whistle. (Whoo-whoo!)
She was fiending for the heat up out of Humma’s missle

[Outro: Yung Humma]

I ain’t playing girl. Don’t think you realize
How you like your eggs, fried or fertilized?
I ain’t playing girl. Don’t think you realize
How you like your eggs, fried or fertilized?
I ain’t playing girl. Don’t think you realize
How you like your eggs, fried or fertilized?
I ain’t playing girl. Don’t think you realize
How you like your eggs, fried or fertilized?

I must be on a video kick lately. There are just so many good ones! I mean, how could I not share the love of smanging?

Are You Winning?

Posted: 03/03/2011 by Singlefied in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

You would be winning if you were getting Singlefied emails.  Apparently some of you subscribers are getting our emails in your junk folder.   Sure we talk about dating strippers and how to keep your cock hard, but shit, we don’t need you to wire money to Nigeria to save your dying uncle.  Please double check that our emails aren’t being discriminated as spam.  Those fuckers.

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If email’s not your thang, there are other ways to keep connected.  We’re like a really good girlfriend.  We wanna:

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Know where you are on Foursquare (j/k, we’re not that psycho)

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Posted: 02/08/2011 by Singlefied in Technology, Uncategorized
Tags: ,

If you happen to see it, let me know.  Gotta make sure this ish works.