I Choo Choo Choose You

Ah, Valentines Day. Has me reminiscing for the days when girls sent themselves (or their fat friends) carnations in high school to feel loved. I feel like 7-8 carnations made you fly back then, whereas one just made you look like you sent it to yourself. Of course being an over-zealous boyfriend, I might have spent a whole ten dollars to make my lady feel important, and an additional five to stalk someone else (if there was a picture of the one, the only Jen Fields out there...I would have linked to it here). Valentines day meant candy too, tons of that shit. Whoever created those candy hearts with not so clever messages written on them was a a modern-day genius. Well today Valentines Day means something quite different. I have a question for the collective lady out there (do we have any female readers?): if I bought an engagement ring - or pretty much anything - from Zales, Kay Jewelers, or Jareds Galleria of Jewelry, would I even make it to second base that night? I'm no expert, but I'd rather have a life size wall magnet of Triple H than a journey pendant. But I don't want to put a damper on an otherwise festive/depressing time. So during this time of worldwide love, I ask myself: Big Firm, what makes a casanova a casanova? Well I've been around the same girl since I had braces and thought it was cool to let my boxer shorts hang below my umbros, so the fact is I have no idea. But having no idea never stopped me before, and it won't stop me now.

Confidence. Even if it's false confidence, confidence is the name of the game. There's always that guy out there w/ the stank breath, fucked up teeth, scrawny arms, and terrible threads that holds his own w/ the ladies. And why? b/c he has confidence, however misplaced it may be. For the record i'm watching a commercial for something called ibot. It's some sort of five foot tall wheelchair that allows the handicapped to play basketball w/ middle schoolers. I'm very confused. In any event, back to confidence: if there's one thing I'm confident about it, it's that confidence can't be sacrificed.

Style. Black dudes got all the style in my book, especially tall black guys. They get away w/ anything! Black guys pull of the short sleeved button down like its nobody's business, while white guys only catch wreck for the same conduct. Even orange jumpsuits look better on a black man. Ok, that was below the belt, but you get my point. You tell ME how one guy can look so damn smoooove rockin the oversized white tee and the other guy so damn hopeless. Style is hard to pin down, but some of the fellas just got it, and most of us don't. Either way, if you can wear a jacket that has more buttons than you have pairs of socks, do that thang, and do it proudly. Style is about taking risks, but doing it w/ confidence. See that's where these categories start to merge together. One can't come w/o the other. Casanovas know this. Casanovas live this.

Hair. There was a day about 5 years ago that I looked in the mirror and noticed that my hair was falling out. I like to call that day "the day of black death." But hair is of the utmost importance, and again, I must draw the distinction b/w the black folk and the white folk. God is punishing us white people by making it so much harder to go bald than it is for our darker brethren. Why does a black guy with a shiny dome look like the man while a white guy rockin a horseshoe just looks more jewish? There are of course the rare exceptions to this rule, but honestly, hair is huggggggggge. Fabio became a fuckin icon on the strength of his hair. That nerdy Indian kid from American Idol who couldn't sing for shit even made a name for himself b/c of his hair. Point being that a true player has quality hair, or in the alternative, is black and makes having no hair look good. You think Six liked Joey Lawrence b/c he wrapped flannel shirts around his waist? Or David Silver could climb the social latter and start dating Donna Martin b/c he wore hammer pants in ninth grade? Nah, homey, it's was the hair.

Alcohol Consumption. A true casanova knows the fine balance b/w losing inhibitions and offending the women he seeks to sleep w/. That's one of the reasons why this guy isn't a ladies man in my book, and this guy is. Think of the guy by the window of the bar, toothpick in the corner of his mount, pointing and winking at the ladies at the bar, lightly drinking those vodka tonics and keeping it light but fluid. Little do they know he's been popping pharmeceuticals all night and plans to take it out on some unsuspecting coed, but he looks cool, and by the time the ladies figure it out, he will be out the door and telling his friends all about it. Ok maybe thats my own personal dream, but i still think finding that balance is an essential element of player status.

The intangibles: is there anything more important than a sense of humor? Funny men pull chicks they have absolutely no business even being allowed to stalk, even when said funny man looks like a 7th grader. So do magicians, which gives me hope b/c im repeatedly told I look like David Blaine. Which is better than looking like Andy Pettite right now, but I digress. A fella who can make the ladies laugh and otherwise forget his many shortcomings is sure to come out on top. Carrot Top finds his way to the Playboy mansion on a regular basis, and even fat comedians make the ladies swoon. If you can't turn them on, you my as well make them laugh as they walk away. Other intangibles: teeth. You simply got very little chance w/o them...even if they are a disgrace to orthodontics; Composure: If you are the man, chances are everyone else hates you. It's only natural for jealousy to manifest itself in this manner. But if there's one thing the ladies don't like, it's a hot-head. So just when you are about to lose your cool, deep breaths, punch your own hand, and walk away. That or drop the motherfucker Kimbo Slice style.

Car. Hard to be the man without one, at least in most places. Hard to be the man in a shitty one everywhere. SEPTA is cool, but public transportation is no place to get your swerve on. Well maybe the R8, but not in the depths of Olney. I rolled in a 1989 Ford Taurus and it was hardly player-prolific. But when I upgraded to my mom's 95 camry-station wagon....wooooooo-eeeeeeee, that electric seatbelt, a more natural panty dropper there has never been.

Linen collection. Gots to have that bathrobe w/ the initials on it. A true casanova rolls out of bed, throws on the B/F terrycloath, grabs the newspaper, slippers, and starts making breakfast while his jawn stays submerged in his smooth silk linens. Let me be clear: I have never done this, nor do I have silk linens, but it's what I imagine someone w/ class and money would do. And I bet that person has great hair too.

Hotel Selection: It's easy to fake the funk like you are the man when staying in a hotel. not so easy when you take your lady back to the apartment and it's a real shithole. I learned this lesson way back when Semi had the dope jacuzzi going and the florescent empire state building wall decoration and that alone got him a lady even though he's all gummy and shit. So clearly, apartments help...but fuck an apartment, the hotel is where you can look impressive. Take a lady to a fancy hotel that you got a good deal on, pretend it cost 450/night, pick up the phone and place a few complaints to look assertive and you are in like flynn.

On a completely unrelated note, I think it's time we all applauded Peter from the Cosby Show. From riding Cliff's knee in a completely inappropriate manner to playing backup center for the Virginia Cavaliers, all while first becoming Lithuanian, Peter never disappoints. You, my friend, are an inspiration to all child stars.