Hey, Groupies, Get Your Hands Off My Man!

The Stir | April 9, 2011 - 2:30 pm

The behind-the-scenes festivities of a sporting event or music concert include three basic essentials: food, drinks, and groupies. They’re fixtures in the after-party scene, clamoring for the attention and — oh dare they hope? — a moment of bad decision-making to wrangle the sperm of their wealthy and/or high-powered man targets.Seeing pictures of some silicone-pumped, big-bootied heffas waiting at the hotel where a fleet of NBA players were staying reminded me recently that I could never, ever, ever, ever date an athlete or a man in a position of power or notoriety. I just don’t possess the social grace or the inherent couth to withstand the urge to kick a scheming groupie in one of her surgically enhanced woman parts if I knew she was plotting on my man.

Not that any all-pro ballers or high-ranking shot callers are Googling my contact information. I’m just sayin’ that I couldn’t do it even if the opportunity presented itself. Read more…