Rock Ban

J'mel feb 15Diamonds aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

By J’Mel Davidson


Here we are once again.

2,000 years ago, some Irishman killed a bunch of snakes and created Valentine’s Day so that once a year I can be super-reminded of my ongoing saga on lonely lovelessness.

Thanks, Obama.

I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. Not even my position as snarky high-profile black guy at this city’s premiere periodical provides me with the savvy hot-to-trot Cougars I so openly crave. “So, why do it?” you’re probably asking in the form of an angry whisper.

Because it’s my job, damn it!

Regardless of my potential reward (ha!) or punishment (many), I have accepted the task of telling you, the loyal reader, of my ups, downs, more downs, and travels through the valley of the shadow of death of intelligent popular culture. And this month, we once again return to the closed casket funeral that is amore.

Over the past three decades, I have slowly come to realize that my most cynical beliefs are truer than I ever wanted to realize: I can’t afford love.

Occasionally I will say things like, “I can’t wait until I’m rich enough to date the way I want” or “Dating will be a lot easier after my first million,” and these honest and true sentiments are always met with the stock response, “You don’t want the type of woman who will only date you for your money.” Yeah, you’re right. What I’d rather do instead is continue to be sincere and honest and die alone. That was sarcasm, by the way. I mean the opposite of what you just read.

Why shouldn’t I play the game the way it’s always been played? Who am I to try and change the rules that everyone knows and understands? If your childish idea that money can’t buy happiness is true, then why are the people that enthusiastically ring out with, “He went to Jared!” met with such positivity and envy rather than the contemptuous scorn they so deserve? Because women like shiny rocks, but not any shiny rock—It has to be an obviously expensive shiny rock.

3,000 years ago some idiot crawled from a cave, picked up a shiny rock, and deemed it to be more valuable than the other rocks on the ground. Then, the good people at De Beers planted the lie that if he really loves you, the rock he pays De Beers for has to be worth two months of his salary. Because that Rock is a “symbol of commitment and love.” Also, that’s crap. It’s no more a symbol than a mortgage or a family car or a poem. But you don’t want that junk! You want the rock! The expensive rock!

And it makes you happy.

But what about that sucker that bought it? Did you spend two months’ salary on a gift for him? New 4K 67-inch screen? Original Kenner Boba Fett figure still in package? Let me guess, your love is the gift? Barf!

So, yeah. I’m done with feeling bad about Valentine’s Day until I can afford to do it right. I won’t be buying any rings anytime soon because two months of my salary is a farce of the scale of early Zucker Brothers work. And I don’t have anyone to give a ring to, anyhow. The bitter irony being, of course, if I could afford a fancy ring, I’d have no shortage of potential mates to choose from. Coincidence? No!

And while you may think me a cynic, I’m what the world of common sense has made me. I simply cannot, emotionally or financially, continue to buy into a game that I’m fixed to lose. Perhaps you think I am blaming women for this? Perish the thought! If anything, I wish for strong female role models to rise up and show their emotional and social evolution by refusing to be impressed and swayed by expensive shiny rocks!

Can you imagine a world where relationships are built on foundations where the cornerstone is no longer an actual stone? Where your personality, wants, needs, and aspirations are the first thing you’re judged on rather than your ability to purchase expensive gifts? George Clooney the plumber has just as much chance with an attractive lawyer as George Clooney the millionaire jet-setting actor?

Of course you can’t.

One Response to “Rock Ban”

  1. Mr Scoffee says:

    Well said. This is funny shit.

Leave a Reply for Mr Scoffee