Shot #1: Jack Daniels Honey

Cheers to the Wingman 

The wingman is a necessary feature of bachelorhood.  Nightlife for a single man is the oft-teetered line between victory and defeat.  Victory looks different to every man; but the consensus is that defeat looks the same—bad.  A man’s winning percentage is determined by a variety of factors including but not limited to his (1) approach (read: we do not acknowledge “game”); (2) personality; (3) looks; and (4) style (in all its forms).  If I were to take a poll of say, 50 men and 50 women, I am confident that 100% of those men and women would agree that all four of these factors are key to well, winning.  But let’s be clear, I do not intend to take a poll nor would I know how to do such a thing (I opted for College Algebra, not Stats).  Despite the ubiquity of my just-listed factors, one factor often overlooked is the presence of a productive wingman.  In our individualistic society, we look at how well the man does, not the team of men coming together for a common purpose.  Every player can’t be MVP, but even bench players get rings.  Choose your team wisely (message!). 

Nightlife can be a treacherous event/experience without the right support.  Many nights have ended in disappointment and disrepair due to a false step by an overeager and/or uninformed single man.  The sour fruits of his missteps are reduced to unresponsive text threads to uninterested women (or men) and eating leftovers in the dark (sans pants).  Even worse, the subtle-letdown-rejection at the bar by the beautiful woman with the Rihanna faux-locks, stings just a little bit more because you watched the interest slowly drain from her face due to your flaccid conversation about the latest think piece trending on your mom’s Facebook.  As you stand there with the she-just-walked-away-without-saying-anything face, trying to figure out where to non-awkwardly place your hands, you reassess what went wrong (other than your boot cut jeans).  You pulled up dolo with no wingman.  And let’s be clear, some guys can pull from deep with a full 30 seconds on the shot-clock.  I mean they didn’t make one pass, but just pulled from the announcer’s table.  But most guys are more Mark Curry than Steph Curry.  That’s why the wingman is so crucial. 

The wingman is a social savant skilled in identifying the relational nuances of the male-female dynamic—otherwise known as “catching the vibe”—which inform the success rate of a night on the town.  Ok you know what I’m talking about: baggin’, bookin’, choosin’, scoopin’ etc.  I’m also just making this up as I go.  But the key point is that the wingman is key.  It isn’t that he possesses anymore charm than you, it’s that he knows your strengths and weaknesses and therefore understands how to provide balance to a given situation.  He dances to the rhythm of conversation with you as female onlookers grow curious at the energy swirling around you both.  He buoys both of you above the fray of similarly-dressed men and their stale conversation, creating a world of allure and adventure where only the interesting and unintimidated dwell.  This is where you live when you approach her at the bar.  This is why the wingman deserves homage.

The wingman is unique to each man benefiting from the specific skillset described above.  And they come in all forms and identities.  I’ve had the pleasure of making moves with plenty of reputable gentleman over the years, but the one who can’t be replaced is Ron Boyd.  Cheers to him and anyone else who can call themselves a proper wingman. 


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Sports and Politics

10 days into 2018 and this is the first blog Iv'e wrote since 2012. I’ve had a grand total of 5 oil changes since then, but we wont jump into car maintenance (or lack there of). Today is about something I see on various websites daily.  Just for example; I've seen Lebron James speak his mind about Donald Trump and saw his fans in the comments and replies saying “you dribble a ball for a living, who cares what you have to say just stick to sports” or “you’re just a spoiled liberal”. Despite the fact that he was asked the question by a reporter so technically he was speaking to sports until asked a political question. This also got me to thinking, I can guarantee you that they’re only saying this because of his stance against Donald Trump. Instead of respecting the view of a player you’re a fan of, you’d rather talk down on his credibility because he plays basketball? How much of a fan are you really? Lebron is very credible and his views matter, typically more so than the people tapping on the phone screen leaving comments under his Instagram post. Sports and Politics will always be intertwined, rather you like it or not. so let’s please kill that notion at the earliest convenience. Thanks. 


Crazy Lust

Ive always thought love and lust were seemingly the same thing. Just energy directed in different ways. Not to get all poetic but just a thought.  Why does it seem like in your 20’s everything is just so complex? Nothing is just simple and straight forward during these years, especially when it comes to dating! This particular story is about how guy meets girl and things get weird! 

Its Summer 2016 and just an average day on set. This particular job was for a clothing brand. The model on set was really attractive, but hey thats technically her job right ( lol ) ? As the day goes, me and Rachel ( not her real name ) are casually “ vibing “.  Fast forward 8hrs and its a wrap. As everyone is leaving Rachel gives me her number.  This is cool because we had a mutual connection and great conversation. Certainly wanted to keep in touch. 

At this point its been two weeks of solid texting and hanging. Rachel and i both agreed that we didn’t want anything but to be friends and just ride the wave ( no pun intended ). I should probably also mention, this was Rachel’s idea! 

Now its week 3 and Rachel started to get a little intense. Multiple phone calls and text about “ who i was with “ & “ where i was “. This was beyond confusing to me because me and her agreed to be friends and just see where things went. Although the warning signs started appearing, i ignored them because i was infatuated.

Now its week 4. It was a Wednesday morning and i just got 3 emails about jobs that i lost. Maybe i should mention that all 3 emails came within a 2hr span. So naturally my mood wasn’t the best. Rachel texted me and i told her “ Hey. Im not having a great day, ill hit you back tomorrow “.  Later that night, i grabbed a bottle of tequila and decided i was going to drink until the bottle was empty.  Around 12:30am i hear a series of thunderous knocks on my door. Soooooo i rush to see WTF is going on and guess who it is? Did you guess Rachel, well if you did you’re correct! Rachel storms in and just swears that someone else was there and proceeds to throw stuff & a few slaps! Again this is all confusing because we are “ just friends “. Once Rachel calms down and stopped her barrage of allegations she realizes that i was alone and she severely over reacted!  At this point I’ve definitely had half a bottle of tequila and i just don’t have the energy to argue. After a talk, Rachel leaves and the next morning i end it. Of course i was called every name under the sun but meh! Oh not to mention, there was a bag filled with pieces of pictures she cut up of us on my door step.

Moral of this story is what ? Honestly i don’t know. Just sucks when you meet someone and they end up being crazy ( lol ) 

Ron Boyd

Priscialla In NYC