In Los Angeles a man’s car is an extension of his wealth, his bedroom swag and overall success. I suppose most women expect to get out of a BMW 645 and walk into some swanky real estate-driven dwelling. Or, maybe, we envision it parked by the private valet service at a trendy Downtown LA high-rise. BUT, the last thing we expect to encounter is a random, annex styled apartment in the heart of Palms, CA fully equipped with the smell of incense and old sofa.
Now, I’m not saying that all men should drive nice cars, but rather, all men SHOULD keep it real. If you want women to love you for you, DO YOU! Don’t paint half the picture with material falsifications and then live off the steam of your almost-repossessed whip!
Don’t get me wrong, I love the boys, and I completely understand the pressures put on men to portray Hollywood money. And, I don’t let these LA vixens off the hook for demanding life styles that they are too lazy to create for themselves. But rather talking to the guy who hits the Crown Bar all night long hollering “google me” to every chick within earshot, I prefer a man that drives a Honda Civic and parks it at his own crib where the gas, phone and light bill are in his name.