WHERE WERE YOUR BOYS?! Why Robin Thicke Needs To Chill

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This has got to stop…

I want it said from the top of the talk, I have not come here to bash the boy Robin Thicke. It’s my understanding in the fundamentals of manhood, that you just aren’t a man until you know what it feels like to camp out on a couch in the doghouse. You WILL DO ANYTHING to escape laying on cushions of insecurity while neck-deep in nightmares of your formerly blushing bride revenge-sexing her driver in the backseat.

Trust me, there isn’t a partition big enough to keep that vision out. And that’s a song by a happily married woman about to do her hus… Ooh… sorry, too soon? I’ll move on.

 

And if you’ve ended up on the wrong side of a slammed door, nothing says “just come to the window…” better than swan-diving face first into the mud you may have previously dragged your former fair maiden through. And in the case of Robin Thicke attempting to win back his recently awol’d wife Paula Patton after a few months of wine, women and finger-dipping debauchery that would make Caligula blush, all real men can understand the move to Michael Phelps through the filthy pool of public ridicule. But after we witnessed the shaved and disheveled crooner belting out piano-assisted begging strips during the BET awards, we had no other choice but to bring up that age-old question:

Dude, where were your boys??

Don’t you think the public self-inflicted flogging is starting to take on creep overtones of epic proportions? You realize by naming an entire album after her, you’ve essentially taken cyber bullying to the next level… right? Usher, Pharrell, somebody was supposed to tell you that in situations like this, the first thing women need is SPACE. But since this media frenzy you’ve continued through the awards (and the video for “Get Her Back”) she no longer has a chance to miss you because YOU WON’T GO AWAY. Everywhere she goes, she’s gotta deal with questions, comments and constant reminders of you wanting forgiveness for doing her dirty. Wrapping these reminders in Olympian level begging isn’t going to endear you to your fans or her, (Side Note: Your fans have heard the album. They now feel cheated on too.)

It’s one thing to get on stage looking like “Single White Female,” but it’s another thing to start acting like one! Your boys were supposed to tell you that there’s a thin line between wanting back in the house and “the calls are coming from inside the house!!” And you are jet-packing past said line with a reckless abandon that would make Evel Knievel flinch.

I’m gonna say it again, none of us real men are against you here. We’ve all been there and a bunch of us are probably gonna go back. But if your boys don’t tell you to take your ass outta the public eye and dial down the creepy, you have no real friends… or they’ve called next. Either way, Keith Sweat called. He said stop begging.

sweatcar

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