The Cow & Suckas // Death of a Gentleman

Last night I had the pleasure of joining my favorite Magic Trick and his boys at a familiar water hole. Now, I may hate on the Cow for its hit-or-miss crowd and its erratic musical selections (from Def Leppard to Elvis Crespo to Lil Wayne) but when it comes down to it... I always have a good time there. That's the point, isn't it?

Lately, I have kept my distance from the Cow. I was slowly getting tired of the same slim pickings that I usually encounter there (not that I go to the Cow in the hopes of finding my Prince Charming). But last night I was pleasantly surprised by a young Latin gentleman who had the ability to lead. Yes, ladies... a gentleman. Not some random sucka who sidles up next to you, gyrating off beat saying, "You're so hot! You're so hot!" while stepping on your new shoes and spilling his AMF all over your arm. Not some drunk ass Jabbawockee wannabe grabbing onto your hip trying to make babies on the dancefloor then calling you a stuck up bitch when you turn around and say, "Um, no thanks."

I say, he was gentleman.

Not only did this guy take me by the hand and pull me towards him to whisper, "Would you like to dance with me?" in my ear, homeboy maintained a respectable distance by busting out Salsa twirls and leading me around the dancefloor. This is what dancing with a partner is supposed to be like! When I finally gave him the greenlight for a little contact, he did not smell like sweat, hard liquor, or cigarettes. And the best part is, he let me go at the end of the song. He let me shimmy and shake back over to my company and left it at that. He didn't follow me around like a stalker or whip out his cellphone with the false hope that one dance could turn into romance. At the end of the night (which is now 1:30am at the Cow, wtf?!) I ran into him and we said, "Goodnight, thank you for the dance" with a handshake and a smile. Game recognized game.

As I was saying good-bye, however, I also ran into a dude who I had been dancing with earlier in the night. He stood off to the side, watched the gentleman and I chat and felt it appropriate to declare, "That guy's whack, he ain't got nothin' on me" in a brazen attempt to get my attention. But, he failed. No pie for you, sucka.

So, for you fellas out there who are secretly reading this (I know who you are!), here's a few tips on shedding your sucka status. Now, I don't claim to be a know-it-all in playing the game, but I do understand simple rules of engagement. The only way to win is to be the best player in the field, right?

1) Act like a gentleman at all times. As related in my story above, it is impressive and quite refreshing for women who encounter suckas on a daily basis to meet a man with manners and class.

2) Drop the defeatist attitude. I once had a conversation with a sucka who did nothing but whine about his life. Instead of accepting responsibility for his state of discontent, he proceeded to air a laundry list of names, dates, and places on which he placed blame. His vernacular consisted mainly of, "I can't" or "I don't know" or "It's not my fault." After 45 minutes of complete negativity, I summed up all the tact I could manage and said to him, "Grow a pair. Stop complaining, start doing." No real lady is going to want a man who can't do for himself first.

3) Be cool. And I'm not talking about dressing like Kanye or dancing like Chris Brown. Check your ego at the door. If you don't know how to handle your liquor, stick to Shirley Temples and Rob Roys. Watch your choice of words in front of the ladies. And for fuck's sake, keep the machismo to a minimum. There is nothing more unattractive than a sucka who needs to puff his chest and blow steam to prove that he is a man. Handle yourself appropriately, like my boy Josh once told me, "Never lose your sexy."

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Portrait of a Gentleman:

"If you don't have enemies, you don't have character."
Paul Newman

01.26.1925 - 09.26.2008