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T-Pain, Exit Stage Left

Even when my self-esteem was at its lowest, I’ve always respected myself.  I’ve always demanded respect for myself.  Not as a bitchy girl or woman, but just as someone who had a firm enough handle on reality and a lack of self-loathing.  Because I demanded respect, I always had a handful of great guy friends.  I guess they were drawn to my lack of bullshit drama, and they always protected me like they would their kid sister.  I can’t think of a time when I ever felt threatened in any situation — shifty or otherwise.  I have always dressed modestly and playing “hook up” was never my thing.  I was never good at that whole scene.  Oddly enough, I’ve listened to rap and could-be definitely is raunchy pop since I was a teenager.  I’ve always liked the beat and, until lately, the lyrics made me laugh.

I marvel at girls today just like I did when I was a kid; how they demand to be respected but can shake their ass with the best of ’em to the musical styling’s of T-Pain and Chris Brown, openly offended when guys aren’t lined up playing grab ass.  Too, I’ve made several arguments against these so-called hipster feminists who claim that, “men are pigs,” and “chivalry is dead,” yadda yadda.  Maybe some men are pigs because we’ve allowed it.  Maybe some men are pigs because we’re yelling at them for not opening a door (or for opening a door) all while pulling a Miley and twerking all over God’s creation.  Yeah.  The point trying to be made is pretty much null-and-void.  You can’t have your cake and eat it too, you double standard user, you.

But I’ve veered slightly off track and that is another topic for another day.

respect

I’ve made a personal choice just recently to not only limit but to completely cut off raunchy tunes from my playlists.  Not because I’m personally offended by the lyrics, because I’m not.  I’ve never allowed any guy to call me his bitch or his hoe, and I’ve certainly never twerked (you can all thank me later).  I’ve altered my music choices because I have two small boys in my charge.  Two little guys that I love with every fiber of my being and I’d hate to whip some butts because they disrespect people — women or otherwise.  Of course, I couldn’t very well be angry with them if they’re picking up their wit and charm because of Pitbull blaring from Pandora or Spotify.  I guess that would be what you’d call my issue.  I’m not condemning anyone for listening to secular music.  Swear it.  I still listen to secular artists.  I just don’t listen to the horny ones, is all.  I said earlier in the post that this is a recent development.  By that, I mean yesterday I was blaring Ludacris and Savage in my car.  I finally really listened to some of the lyrics and realized I’d become embarrassed.  The kids weren’t even with me at the time and all I could think was, “Gah.  I don’t want my kids talking to young women this way.”  And so that’s when I made my decision.

When they’re older I won’t be able to control what they watch and hear to a point.  When they’re in my house, there will be mine and Evan’s rules.  I’m not naïve enough to believe that whenever they’re outside of our home that temptation and peer pressure won’t be a problem, though.  Absolutely it will be.  I was a good kid, but I did some boneheaded things outside my parent’s view because I knew I could.  Nothing I’d take to the grave, now.  But then I felt rebellious.  I felt “alive”.  I was dumb, but it happened.  And I’d be ten-fold more stupid if I believed now, as a parent, that my kids will be the picture of perfection outside of the house.  They may not be complete heathens, but they’ll do some dumb shit.  Stuff they better hope to God I never find out and, to be honest, I won’t want to know about.  All I can do is teach ’em the best I can.  And part of our lesson, just like not burping at the table and always remembering our please and thank you’s, is to be respectful of every living thing.  Women, that includes you.

I want my boys to grow up and find respectable, RESPECTFUL, young women; ladies who beam class, modesty, & a quick wit.  Those girls will not be “them bitches and hoes” that are so characterized in popular music.  I don’t want Gabe or Connor finding their spouse because of how low she can drop it.  Both my little guys will learn at a young age how to treat a young lady; lessons they can only be taught from Evan and me.  This is only a personal conviction.  I have plenty of friends who love those tunes and their kids are fantastic.  Their girls respect themselves.  I will say that’s a rarity.  I’ll also say that I’m glad those individuals have taught their kids — both boys and girls — how to respect and be respected.  But it’s rare.  Because I also know too many little ones who shake their collective asses with the skill of a thousand strippers.  And it’s pretty sad.

So call it what you may; silly, what have you.  But there are far too few respectful guys left in the world.  I got a good one after I’d long given up hope.  I’m just trying to do my part the only ways I know how; I just want my little ones to be gentlemen.  I brought them in this world and I’d hate to have to take ’em out for pulling a Chris Brown.

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