Okay, I owe Kevin Samuels a sincere apology, and yes I watched the full interviews he did with Joe Budden and Tasha K. This brother is deep although he can be problematic. Yawl women will eat up Steve Harvey’s country fried hot mess, but for some reason when the critique comes from an educated, well spoken, and might I say handsome seasoned vet of a man, yawl mad.
Here I was thinking, here we go again with another psycho that wants to go his own way. But nope it’s not what I thought it was. This surprises me that I was so quick to decide from some viral clips that this dude was just another secretly gay, woman hating, insecure rooty poot that love to tell women what they need to be doing, but he is way more complex than that. But before I delve into my opinion of Mr. Samuels, let me speak to any women that may be reading this post.
Here is the problem I have with the women that call in to ask Mr. Kevin Samuels for advice. Who the eff is Kevin Samuels that his opinion and acceptance is what you seek? Aint no way in hades, I’m calling no Kevin Samuels, and asking him any questions or asking for his advice, why would I do that?
The hilarity of it all. This ninja will crush your dam spirit with his delivery and it is hilarious, until you see the reactions of the women calling in. Look a here, I have brainwashed myself into thinking I am a solid 8 and a 10 when I try and I don’t need nobody breaking my delusion, ya dig. Foh.
Why would I call in and have Kevin Samuels in rate me? Bruh, some days my hair is tied up, I got on stretch pants, I may have half my hair braided for a whole week because my arms get tired of reaching up into my head to braid. And you expect me, who is going around living my life however I want to live it to ask a neat, well put together, man to rate me a……2, maybe three at best? Nope not the kid.
Since the pandemic, I have gotten really bad, yeah it’s shameful and I don’t give a care either. If it’s a choice between cleaning the refrigerator or spending hours braiding my hair, I rather have a fridge that smells like bleach. I have learned to braid the outside, put the rest in a ponytail, and keep it moving. And if a nice looking brother should happen to stroll by me as I push my cart down the Wal-Mart isles blissfully looking tore up, I smile. You think I don’t? And most of the times they look at me like, “please do better” and stroll on, but a few have smiled back. Yeah Kevin, I’m a whole eight out here, and when the brothers in my circles see me dressed to impressed, I’m a full blown 10. Well at least that’s what I’m going to convince myself, rather you see it or not.
Kevin asks questions like how old are you? How much do you weigh? How tall are you? None of your business is what you should say but no, you answer him don’t you ladies. Why? Because you call him and engage with him hoping he will approve of you.
Bruh, I’m old and I got the gray hairs to prove it. And my gray hairs are cold blooded too. They are right in the front so they stick out with their disrespectful arses. I refuse to dye them too. It’s too much trouble just to hide the fact that I’m living a full lifespan. Some of us won’t make it to see the five decades you have been on this earth. My mother and father died way too young. I’m proud to be old, but there is no need for me to tell my age and not expect criticism. Well at least from superficial men. I mean for me it’s a privilege
And I’m average height and 180 pounds so yes, I’m fat to a dude like Kevin Samuels even though aint no man ever kicked me out of bed. I’m not built like no line backer though, you better ask somebody that know. I’m confident that no man with eyes will call me fat, but I never tell my weight usually. Right now I’m just making a point so don’t push it because 180 may or may not be my exact weight so mind your business. I can weigh more because the men who pick me up can carry more. Im’ma break your back, I get it. So I stick to the guys who can handle what I got and more.
I did say that I watched and listened to this man at length. This is after literally brushing him off based on the bits of pieces I did see. But a lot of the influencers I listen to and read, are speaking about Kevin Samuels and now I am intrigued. And dare I say, impressed? But not intimidated.
I’m Generation X too sir. Everything the Baby Boomers pushed us to do, we did only to have the lives our parents would of dreaded. And to top it off, men and women are constantly at odds. Something has to give.
First of all I am not a feminist. Why would I be one of them? I don’t want to be equal to a man. He can carry the load, pay the bills, and deal with the stress and aggravation of life. Go on bruh, you can have all of it while I’m chilling not worried about a thing. That’s the life my mother had. She didn’t do barely anything outside of what she felt like doing and the man that supported her was glad to do it. They had an arrangement I guess cause whatever they agreed on, they rarely had arguments about what the other didn’t do. She stayed home with her hair and nails done occasionally pushing a broom in between doing her crossword puzzles. But guess what?
She had a college degree, had owned a business she sold and was living off the profit, was widowed so she had income from my father’s benefits, and had a work history so that if he dropped dead the next day a week later she could be back in the workforce. And that was the equalizer. He came into her life and she already was set.
He was a regular dude. A truck driver but to me he made good enough money. He liked her style and of course my mother had sense enough not to pass him up when he tried to talk to her outside of the store. And they stayed together for a couple of decades and most of them were happy.
I never forget she went out of town and left me home alone with him. I already knew he rather starve to death than fix his own dinner and I doubt he could do anything but microwave a dinner anyway. Now I’m a teenager mind you and my mother is gone, remember? So I fix dinner, made his plate and then called to him that it was ready. This ninja just sat there waiting for me to bring it in on a towel like my mother did. She didn’t run around waiting on him hand and foot but she still did certain things that would make a so called feminist cuss her out. I kept waiting for him to come get his plate, and he kept waiting for me to bring it to him.
He calls me over.
“Where’s my plate?”
In the kitchen, on the table.
“I don’t know why your mama left me here with you. You know she brings me my food every time she cooks dinner”
Yeah but I’m not my mama, your plate is on the table.
I think she was on a girl’s trip or something. He stopped talking to me immediately and on the phone he goes to interrupt whatever my mother was doing. She could have been at a funeral and God himself would be the only thing keeping him from calling the church to give her an earful.
“Your daughter is disrespectful.”
I suspect my mother asked him what did I do.
“She knows you bring me my plate of food. And when I said something to her she got smart and gone say ‘I’m not my mama’”.
I suspect my mother probably called me a heffa and told him to put me on the phone.
Because if I had of said, “what” the way some of you younguns do your parents, she would of called one of her sisters, or scrappy nieces over to handle the business she could handle over the phone. Yes, my mother was a child abuser according to today’s standards. All I know is there were consequences for trying her patience especially when an adult, ANY adult, was complaining about my behavior. My mother was cracking up.
“Girl, go get a towel and bring that man his plate. Got him calling me with your foolishness!”
Yeah, I thought this lady was crazy for putting up with that. But he worshipped this lady. They barely fought and when he would get mad it would be funny as I don’t know what. He’d be going muttering about how he wasn’t going to stay anywhere where he was uncomfortable. She would smile and say, “But you aint going nowhere.”
All Kevin is saying is there was a tradeoff in the past. You want but you won’t give. And he is just as critical with the men too. What do they say? They call him gay.
Yawl know that man aint gay!
My generation wants to be successful financially but forgets about romantically. And to me we are not that successful. I don’t know how many times the bank teller was impressed by a check I got for working two weeks.
“Wow. Is your job hiring?”
Girl, look at the hours I worked.
Yeah your check is fat when you working like a Hebrew slave doing overtime up the yin yang. And I was alone for years. When I did try to be a normal woman and date, the man would start hinting that I worked too much and you know what that meant? Bruh, you got to go!
Kevin Samuels considers himself a catch. All he asks is that the woman that he is willing to pursue be a catch too. I mean you asked his opinion so obviously you must think he represents the type of man you want, but then when he tells you, you interrupt and or dismiss him. How disrespectful.
It would be one thing if he went up to you on the street and insulting you by saying you were built like a linebacker. You asked him.
So maybe some of his critics should take the time to get a fuller picture of what the man is about. I referenced the interviews in the reference section. And I want encourage women to not give up! Keep working on those beautiful personalities and attract who you are, good luck!
But what do I know? I’m just a bootleg sociologist who nobody will listen to so I started a blog……….
What are your thoughts?
Follow this blog:
Instagram @ whenthiswomanspeaks