While watching the first season of Lifetime show UnREAL with a young lady, I described Nathalie Kelley’s character Grace, who was essentially crafted by the fake dating show to be the resident Latina sex bomb contestant, as a “bad-decision woman.”
She asked me to explain myself. So here I am.
A bad-decision woman is preternaturally attractive member of the opposite sex who, through genetics, dedication to her body, a sartorial aesthetic, or some combination of the three, is capable of bringing any human being with a dick, a pulse and an attraction to women to heel. These women transcend “type,” in that men of any race, creed or walk of life would be interested in having sex with them – think Salma Hayek in From Dusk Till Dawn or Halle Berry throughout the entire 1990s.
The bad decision comes in when the men make very poor decisions to get next to these women…oftentimes knowingly in the interest of temporary gratification.
Now here are keystrokes dedicated to some shit that everyone already knows: men are weak, easily manipulated bastards. I’m interminably in awe at whatever mixture of biology and socialization brewing in us that allows us to throw away well-crafted lives over tits, ass and the scent of a woman.
Family, house, money, career – 90s Halle will make a dude put it all on the line. As I type, some dude is sitting somewhere with his head in his palms, surveying the ashes of his life, trying to figure out exactly what the fuck he was thinking by putting his wang in Jenny from accounts payable who filled out that pencil skirt so well.
Every time some homely white politician purses his lipless mouth as he stands his ignorant ass in front of a podium to apologize for all the hurt he’s caused his family and constituency, I think “c’mon son.” Most of these clowns engage in a series of bad decisions and behavior fully aware of the chemical fire that’ll happen when they inevitably get caught. Anthony Weiner was on his way to becoming mayor of New York City, but is now an imprisoned felon thanks to a long and mind-blowing string of fuckery that I’m not even sure ever resulted in him touching any of these women.
But see, I can only cast so many aspersions on others. I, too, am guilty of chasing after bad-decision women. My motivations have been driven by the fact that I grew up with negative game…never getting the girl I wanted, or any girl for that matter. My ability as an adult to command a woman who’d be considered universally attractive motivated me to chase after them – disregarding the specific personality types that I gravitate toward – as if I were making up for lost time.
For example, I’ve wasted time and words on women who are extremely religious just because they were fine as fuck, all the time knowing that the interaction would wrap up quickly if I revealed that I’m an outspoken heathen. Essentially, I’ve wasted both our times.
There are also the bad-decision women I’ve actually dated: a couple years ago, it was a woman with whom it took about three minutes of conversation to realize we had nothing in common intellectually. Her brother even admitted to me that the whole damn family wasn’t the strongest beer on tap. But hell, I can carry a conversation with a stuffed animal, so I took her out for drinks and meals.
Why did I do all of this? Simple: she was in her late 20s with a gym-cut frame that would make a grown-ass man cry, and she put out. Considering I’ve had several relationships and long-ish-term “situationships” with women to whom I was perfectly attracted and I enjoyed their company, there was no real reason for me to engage in something I knew would end uncomfortably within one pay period. On the only Saturday morning she woke up at my place, she had me counting the hours until she had to dip off to her job and I no longer had to stretch my brain muscles to their limit just to entertain her.
The most ridiculous and infuriating part of all this is that, while we love the existence of bad-decision women, we openly slander them because we’re fucking hypocrites. Our eyes bug out of our heads at gorgeous, scantily-clad ladies, but we insist that we don’t want our daughters dressing like them. We make it rain at strip clubs but shit on the exotic dancing profession. We’ve turned porn into just shy of a $100 billion industry but no one wants to admit aloud that their dollars got it to that point.
It stands to reason, then, that most men don’t seek to wife the bad-decision woman. No man I know (and my closest black friends are well-educated, well-compensated black men) has held out for a Bernice Burgos type to be the mother of their children; they married women they’re attracted to and with whom they could see spending the rest of their days in marital and familial bliss (the good-decision woman?) But I do wonder how many of them would compromise everything they worked for if Burgos rolled up on them dangling the magic poon…
I think social media, and the ease with which it allows ladies to flex their sexiest selves, will remain a haven for bad-decision women and the silly niggas who hit the “like” button or slide into their DMs shooting their across-the-court shot. Since my own Instagram account resembles the entire marketing budget for Flat Tummy Tea, I’m sure I unknowingly scroll past some dude putting his relationship/marriage in danger every single time I open the app.
I realize that any woman can be a bad-decision woman in certain contexts. Look at the wide gap in attractiveness between Arnold Schwarzenegger’s ex-wife Maria Shriver and the housekeeper mistress he knocked up that ruined that marriage. If you’re married, bored and desperate, Vera de Milo from In Living Color will do.
I’ve never come close to cheating on a partner, and I’d like to think my self-awareness in this regard would prevent me from breaking stupid while in a relationship. But if I existed in some bizarro world in which I were married again and Dear White People’s Antoinette Robertson showed up on my porch three-quarters-butt-naked under her robe like Robin Givens in Boomerang, I wonder if I’d go ahead and make that bad decision.
Here’s hoping I’ll never be that weak.