Why Men Like Bob Whitfield Can Go Play in Traffic

 

There are a lot of things in this world that annoy me. Chris Brown. Steve Harvey suits and letting a good twist-out go to waste because I undid the twists prematurely. Man, that last one is always a tough one. And then there’s Bob Whitfield. Don’t be alarmed if you don’t know the name. I wouldn’t expect you to recognize him, as the most basic of f**kbois tend to be forgettable.

Any who.

On last night’s episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta, as the group headed to a couple’s outing in Maui, Bob began to reminisce on he and Shereé’s relationship post their separation.

“After we split, we went on a trip to Las Vegas and I was driving and she fell asleep and I was like. ‘It would be easy for me to take the seat belt off of you and hit the brakes so she can fly her ass through the window,'” he said. Quickly adding, “I never hit her.”

Oh, well aren’t you great. But it gets better.

“Have I ever choked you? For real, I might have forgotten,” he said. By this point, everyone was pretty mortified — especially Shereé, who quietly said, “You have.” Bob responded by asking her if she could still breathe when he was choking her. “I don’t remember choking her, but if I did, I’m sorry because maybe I didn’t choke you hard enough,” he said as an obviously shaken Shereé cried in the background.

“I don’t remember choking her, but if I did, I’m sorry because maybe I didn’t choke you hard enough,”

Make room Chris Brown, R. Kelly and Ceelo, we’ve got another inhabitant in the box of deplorables.

First off, until Bob Whitfield realizes that the big and tall section contains more than baby blue tees and denim Capri pants, he can kick rocks, actually boulders, barefoot. New rule. For every violent act a man commits against a woman, someone bigger, stronger and hopefully with a dope left hook gets to do the same to them, twofold.

Abuse against women, against people, is a very real and present danger that far too many people suffer from. Nothing about being physically and emotionally wounded by your most supposed trusted loved ones is a joke.

This is why we can’t rise as a people — because of men like Bob who insist on trivializing violence against women. On average, nearly 20 people per minute are physically abused by an intimate partner in the United States; that’s more than 10 million women and men, according to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. What’s funny about that Bob? But for real. Where’s the knee slapper in the fact that the mother of your children was once held hostage to your hands because you failed to properly check your anger? If disappointment and failure had a child, it’d be Bob Whitfield.

And why is the man so sweaty? Personal rule of mine, I never trust a man who sweats just from scratching his head. He’s disgusting. Kudos to Shereé and the kids for staying dry all of these years. You guys are the real MVPs.

The man needs help. Not just with his perspiration, weight and very being, but with his psyche. Iyanla, it’s time to step in for this beloved.

Abuse against women, against people, is a very real and present danger that far too many people suffer from. Nothing about being physically and emotionally wounded by your most supposed trusted loved ones is a joke. What is a joke is the fact that Bob Whitfield is managing to stay relevant in today’s culture given his cobwebbed football career and his suffering from FSMS (funny shaped man syndrome). It’s a real thing people.

So because of this and the fact that I can no longer tolerate the man’s face, pork chop arms, pathetic attempts to woo his ex-wife back and tasteless jokes, Bob Whitfield can go play in traffic. Preferably on the 405.

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