So I’m having lunch with two post-college young ladies I’ve known since they were children. They’re cousins. Let’s call them Mia (23) and Tina (21). I’m doing my ‘so how’s life’ check up I regularly do with them.

The topic of men comes up. Mia says, “You’ve heard of a side chick right?

“Yea.”

“Well, I have a side dude.”

“Skert! Hold up! Wait! Side dude? What is that?” I ask with furrowed brow, hoping she’s not burrowing a hole into that shady side of life.

“Nooo…it’s not like thaaat.” I exhale…somewhat relieved. “Ya knooow when you…like…don’t have a maaan—and there’s some guy that kinda likes yooou, but he’s not really that seriouuus, but that’s okay because you’re not really into him eitheeer…and you’re just waiting for a guy to come along that you’re interested innnn? Yeah. That’s a side dude.”

Eyes wide open…looking at her like, ‘Did you really just say that to me’? She smiles back. Tina laughs.

I compose myself to respond to this revelatory phenomenon. “Sooo…you have a side dude, but you don’t have a main dude?”

“Right.”, she says cheerfully as she plays with the straw in her Shirley Temple.

“Sooo…a side dude is just a place holder until you find a main dude…”

“…and then I kick side dude to the curb”, she concludes.

I look at Tina. She shrugs her shoulders. I look at Mia. She’s sipping her Shirley Temple.

That got me thinking. I think I was a side dude? That’s kinda messed up—to be considered second string even though the starting spot is vacant.

Ladies, help me out with this. Have you heard of this before? Or is this a new school Generation Y concoction? Do you agree or disagree?

I’m going to write an article to help my brothas out entitled, “How Not to be a Side Dude”. What should I put in it?

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