Do you ever feel like people appear in our lives as messengers to teach us fundamental lessons of life? We may not recognize the value of their wisdom at the time, but later we look back and realize they were sending us a message we needed to hear. A few years ago I had such a prophet appear to me in the form of a DC cab driver.
I was working late one night downtown and decided to take a cab home rather than the Metro. The taxi driver was an American black guy, probably in his late 30’s. I was pretty tired and sunk down in the back seat, but not 30 seconds into the ride, he started talking to me.
Cab driver: “What’s up, man?”
Chaco: “Not much.” I didn’t want to talk.
Cab driver: “Man, my girl was a BITCH last night” (he emphasized the word “bitch” in the way only a black man can).
Chaco: “Oh?”, I said meekly, really not wanting to hear about it, but it seemed he had a lot to get off his chest.
Cab driver: “Yeah man, a bitch! And you know why, right?”
Chaco: “Uh…No?” Because you’re the kind of guy who calls his girlfriend a “bitch”?
Cab driver: “Because I didn’t give it to my bitch the night before. You know bitches get all bitchy when you don’t give it to them, right?!”
Actually, no, I didn’t know that. How could I know? At the time, I had no game. Like zero. Therefore, my first thought upon hearing this dude complain about his woman acting bitchy because he had not “given it to her” was to think, “This brother needs some sensitivity training.” In fact, I even debated whether I should let him know he should be more sensitive to women. After all, not only was he calling his girlfriend a “bitch,” he was speaking of having sex with her rather crudely. In the end, I decided that my first priority was to get home safely and not pick a fight with this dude who might throw me out of his cab in a bad neighborhood late at night, so I retreated from the high moral ground and let him do his thing.
Cab driver: “Damn, them bitches get so bitchy when you don’t give it to them.”
Cab Driver: “I guess I should have just given it to her.”
Cab Driver: “That’ll teach my ass a lesson – next time, give it to the bitch or they get bitchy on your ass!”
He went on like this for the remaining 10 minutes of the cab ride. It was all he talked about and he never stopped. I made it safely home and I figured I should be satisfied with that, even if I did have to suffer through the rantings of an insensitive cab driver.
But then something strange started to happen. I began to tell my friends the story (in casual company) and expected to end up in deep debates about the state of gender relations in our society. Instead, I was shocked by the response of my female friends: every one laughed and said, “Yeah, that’s true.”
What?! Where was the outrage? Where were the calls for mandatory sensitivity training starting in 6th grade? I couldn’t believe it. In high school I had been one of those guys who thought girls didn’t enjoy sex. I mean, they were always saying “no,” so they must not like it, right? In college, I actually believed my sexual harassment training that “no means no” 100% of the time. I had always tried to be respectful of women, and being respectful meant not making any physical moves too soon, least I might “offend” them and they would think I was some date raping pig. The only girls I had dated to that point had basically thrown themselves at me.
Later on in life I realized that I needed to develop some game, and once I started making progress, the truth of the cab drivers words became clear to me. I have now come to believe that women care more about sexual satisfaction than men. Women may be pickier about who they sleep with, but once they pick you, they will want sex more badly than most men. It still kind of amazes me at times, but it has been such a consistent observation that I can’t believe anything otherwise.
Sometimes I still remember that cab driver and think the universe was sending me a message I needed to hear. My genes were at great risk of never being passed on, so the gods sent someone to plant a seed of truth in me. And since then, every girlfriend of mine has eventually heard the story about that cab driver and responded the same way: she laughs and says, “Yeah, that’s true.”