CHAPTER 1

THE MAN-IPULATOR

TYRESE

It was 1999 and I was performing onstage at the House of Blues in Houston, Texas. She was standing in the front row, her thick body poured into her tightest dress, reaching out to me and screaming my name.

Staring back at her, I began singing my hit that was burning up the airwaves.

Sweet lady, would you be my

Sweet love for a lifetime?

I’ll be there when you need me

Just call and receive me.

That’s what I was saying to her.

Now what I was thinking was a little different.

Stop screaming and save your energy, baby girl. Just let me focus on these lyrics, these dance steps and the mark; I’m supposed to be on when the fireworks go off. And when I’m done with all that, me and you gonna get together in a different kind of way.

And true to my word, I did stay focused for the rest of the show. I sang my heart out, danced my butt off and hit every last one of my marks.

Just before the final song, she felt a light tug on her arm from a big dude who had suddenly materialized beside her. Excuse me, miss, I’m Tyrese’s security, he explained. Tyrese sent me out here to invite you and your girls to meet him backstage after the show.

She accepted the invitation. Backstage we exchanged some small talk, and she ended up coming back to my hotel with me. Then well, you know things got real interesting. . . .

Now, was that a special night? A once-in-a-lifetime moment.

Nah.

For me, that scene played out so many times. It was almost like living in a world within a world, where there were no rules, just you and whoever you want to do it with, wherever you want to do it.

Now before some of y’all start thinking, It’s only the first chapter and already it seems like Tyrese’s ego is out of control, let me also say this.

As much as that ego might have liked to believe it, in my heart I knew those women weren’t buying tickets, jockeying for position, and screaming their lungs out just for me.

They were also screaming for their dream.

The dream of having a man stare into their eyes and ask, Would you be my sweet love of a lifetime?

The dream of having a lover call them out of the blue just to ask, Have I told you lately that I love you?

The dream of a man taking them by the hand and saying, Girl, I want to take the time and thank you for putting up with me. . . . Even though I made you cry, I want to make it right.

But since women rarely, if ever, hear those words from their own man, they make sure that they’re going to get close up to that stage and hear them from me.

The irony, of course, is that even though I’ve always delivered those songs from the bottom of my heart, for many years my actions were constantly singing a different tune.

Even though I knew most women were searching for that love of a lifetime, I wasn’t thinking much past the love of a nighttime.

Today, I’m so grateful that I’ve graduated from that season of my life and moved on to a much healthier place. Back then, I was living a lifestyle that could have easily spiraled out of control. Sometimes, when I reflect back on those days, I’m so thankful that I never drank or did drugs, because if I had, there’s no question that my life would be a lot different than it is now.

Today, I’m in a place where I can finally be honest about what I want out of a relationship. A place when I can tell my woman, Just give me some time to make it right; I’m being completely sincere.

Not that I didn’t mean it before, because I did. It’s just that for a man, often there’s a gap between saying something and actually having that confidence that he can live that way too.

But if you are going to truly understand how a man thinks, how he’s constantly looking for ways to defer your dream of a healthy relationship, then I need to take you back to those early days, even though I’m not proud of how I was living back then.

In fact, when Rev and I initially started discussing this chapter, I was resistant to the idea of pulling back the curtain on my old ways and exposing them to the world.

I knew that some women would be turned off by my behavior, even if it was in the past. I understood that my mind-set would sound arrogant at best and downright exploitive at worst.

I can live with that perception, provided that it helps women gain some clarity about the men in their lives.

My biggest fear was that I didn’t want to make it sound like I was glorifying that old behavior. I wouldn’t want a man to read about those days and say, Ah, so that’s how a real boss puts it down.

My pimpin’ past is not one that I would endorse to other men. It would have a negative effect on the women in their lives, and, as Rev will break down later in the chapter, it would also hurt those would-be pimps.

Which is why despite my initial reservations, I ultimately decided that you do need to meet the old Tyrese. Because unless I share my raw truth, there’s no way that I can truly help people.

Specifically, I need to address just how deceitful and conniving men can be when dealing with women. Or, as Rev and I like to call it, MAN-ipulative.

We celebrate men who demonstrate Machiavellian tendencies when it comes to politics or business, but we still like to pretend that they’re the ones getting strung along when it comes to personal relationships. We need to face facts on just how MAN-ipulative men can be in their relationships. We need to own up to and address the fact that men can be just as calculating, controlling, and cunning in the bedroom as they are in the office or hustlin’ out on the streets.

Back in my old days, my MAN-ipulation game was serious. I had been dealt the fame and wealth cards quick and fast, and I was not shy about playing them. At all.

Granted, most men don’t have that advantage when dealing with women. But I believe that my playing from such a strong hand makes my story even more relevant.

I want you to get inside the mind state of a man when he thinks anything is possible, when he’s simply following his ego instead of the so-called rules.

I want to expose you to the standards of trickin’ that I saw set in Hollywood. So that no matter what level you encounter it in your own life, whether it’s Hollywood or the hood, Sunset Strip or the suburbs, you’ll be prepared.

THE MAN-GICIAN

I see similarities between what professional magicians and professional MAN-ipulators do. Magic is all about creating distractions. For instance, notice the way a magician speaks when he’s onstage. It’s always very theatrical, with a lot of hand movements. That’s to create a distraction. He might wear a bright red handkerchief, or be assisted by beautiful women, for the same reason. To create a distraction. Everything a magician says and does is intended to distract you from what he’s really doing. He wants you to get so caught up in the loud voice, hand motions, colors and smoke that you never notice him pulling that card out of his sleeve.

How I went about dealing with women was no different. I was a MAN-gician who had mastered the art of distraction. But while a magician tries to distract his audience from something that’s intentionally concealed, I was a MAN-gician trying to distract women from the truth that was hidden in plain sight:

And that truth was that they weren’t happy in their relationships with me.

Now just so you don’t get the wrong idea, they weren’t unhappy because I was a bad guy, treated them poorly, wasn’t fun to be with or didn’t know how to love them right.

No, I was a good dude who treated them well, showed them an incredible time and always put it down in the bedroom (if I may say so myself).

Yet despite all that, they were often unhappy being with me. Despite all the incredible things happening on the surface of our relationship, deep down they could sense that I’d never be as committed to it as they were.

And they were right, of course. Yet rather than address my lack of commitment, I’d try to buy time with distractions.

The first things I’d pull out of my MAN-gician’s bag of tricks (hey, why do you think they call it trickin’?) were simple diversions like money or gifts. In other words, if I sensed that a woman was getting hip to my runaround, I might surprise her with a new handbag. Or perhaps I’d let her hold one of my credit cards (only the ones with a set limit, of course) and send her off to the mall. Or if I was going to be busy in the studio (my old euphemism for seeing another woman) that weekend, then I’d give her a couple of airline tickets so she could go visit her friends in Miami.

All those gestures were made under the guise of love, but in reality they were just so many clouds of smoke meant to distract her from the fact that our relationship wasn’t really going anywhere.

Eventually she’d start to see through the smoke. Instead of saying, Thanks, Boo and running off to the mall or jetting down to Miami, she’d shake her head and say, No, Rese, we need to talk. We need to figure out where this thing is going.

When those moments came, do you think I surrendered and said, OK, baby, let’s talk about this? Of course not.

Instead, when it was time to face the music, I’d just turn up the distractions instead. And the loudest distractions that I had at my disposal were elaborate romantic gestures. That’s right, whenever plain old trickin’ just wasn’t getting the job done anymore, I would go out of my way to stage something extremely elaborate and sexy.

One of my favorites would be to tell my girl to be ready to go out at eight, but then insist on keeping the rest of the night a surprise. At eight o’clock on the dot a white limousine would pull up to her house and take her to a five-star hotel, where a bellhop would be waiting for her at the entrance. He would escort her up to the penthouse suite, where I’d be waiting for her. His and hers massage tables would already be set up, and we’d spend the next two hours getting mind-blowing massages together. After that, I’d have a full-course meal delivered to our room, which we’d eat while lounging in our bathrobes. After that . . . well, you know the rest. I don’t even have to say it. Not only did we enjoy an incredible night together but I’d also just MAN-ipulated my way into several more months of not having to address my lack of commitment.

Believe it or not, there were some cases where I had to step my game up even higher than that. There’s a rumor on Twitter, which I can neither confirm nor deny, that me and a young lady once made love with a live violinist and Spanish guitar player serenading us in the bedroom.

I can’t lie, there were some women who seemed immune to my trickin’, even when I brought it on at that all-star level. I remember I met a beautiful, supersmart attorney just as she was coming off a bad breakup. She decided she was going to be celibate until she got her head together, and despite the connection we both felt, she told me in no uncertain terms that sex was not going to be on the table anytime in the near future. She didn’t say it in a snide or threatening way but rather made it clear that she was going through a tough time and would appreciate my respect and patience.

I know women think all men are always in a rush for sex, but the patience part was actually easy for me. Respecting her wishes was a different story.

Even though I did care about this woman and appreciated what she was going through, I still tried to flip it on her. After she told me about her celibacy, I told her, Hey, you’re not going to believe me, but I’ve been thinking about laying off sex for a while myself. I explained my rationale: after years of moving around, I just needed a break. I understood where her head was at, and it was actually a relief for me to not have to worry about sex. I was happy to just spend time with her.

True to those words, for several months I never made even the slightest move toward sex when we got together. At first she was skeptical, but after a while she was impressed and decided I had in fact been telling the truth.

My boys used to ask me, How the hell do you hang out with such a sexy lady without trying to go there? I told them, Hey, it’s easy to turn down a slice of really good cake when you’ve been snacking on potato chips all day. It’s only hard when you’re hungry.

And I definitely wasn’t hungry. Anytime I wasn’t with my attorney I’d be creepin’ with someone else who was more than willing to satisfy my sexual desires. It feels foul to admit this today, but I can even remember calling her from a hotel room with another woman in the bed with me. I put on my sleepy voice and told her, Hi, baby, I’m about to go call it a night, I’m sooo beat from this tour. I just wanted to hear your voice before I went to bed. All the while I’m giving this other woman the Shhh, don’t say nothin’ signal as she lay next to me naked.

It’s sad to say, but when a man is in that MAN-ipulative mind state, you can’t even rest easy knowing that he just said, Good night, I love you, baby, over the phone. Unless you’re lying right there next to him, you can never assume that someone else isn’t. Sorry, but that’s just how so many of us get down.

After a few months of alleged good behavior on my part, the attorney finally started to let her guard down just a tiny bit. We started going on little weekend trips together, even sharing the same bed. But even then, I still wouldn’t make a move. Which just made her fall harder and harder for me.

She was a beautiful, intelligent, successful woman that guys were constantly trying to seduce. The fact that I was content simply spending time with her got her mind twisted. She found herself in uncharted territory and started to question herself. When I first met her, she was unwavering about her decision. Now her plan was coming apart at the seams. She had always been supremely confident, but now she began to worry that she might lose me if she didn’t give all of herself to me.

One night we were sitting in my car outside her house, having one of those magical conversations about our lives, our pasts, our dreams and our fears. After hours of intense conversation, I finally said good-bye. Not even a peck on the cheek. But before I could even unbuckle my seat belt, suddenly she was on top of me, insisting that I take all of her. Forget about having to convince her—I didn’t even have a say in the matter. I had MAN-ipulated her so thoroughly that she threw all her plans and principles out the window in a passionate moment. I had MAN-ipulated her right into my bed (or in this case, my backseat).

The only problem was that once I had her, I didn’t want to keep her. As men, we’ll go to incredible lengths—even feigning celibacy for months—if we think it will aid our pursuit of a woman. Once we catch them, however, all that interest and intensity start to rush out of us like air out of a popped balloon.

Now before I break down why men are much more interested in catching than keeping women, I need to address what some of you might still be thinking right now: Please, the type of MAN-ipulation or whateva you talkin’ about, that’s a game that only somebody famous can run. Ain’t no way in hell that an Average Joe can get away with that type of mess.

Even Rev has told me, I don’t think you understand that most people don’t live like that. I’m in the business, and I’ve only heard of two or three other dudes who are running the same kind of games that you do. What you’re doing is on a whole other level.

But I believe that no matter where you are, you are going to encounter plenty of men who have the same issue. It could be on a college campus, in a housing project, in a trailer park, hell, even a nursing home (don’t sleep, Viagra has got those places poppin’). It really doesn’t matter.

So while my situation might not have been exactly the same as your man’s, understand that those dudes still have that MAN-ipulator in them. As I said earlier, my lifestyle back then represented a man’s natural tendencies taken to their most extreme level. If I had the opportunity to MAN-ipulate four or five different women a day, I wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of that opportunity. Some men might have to wait six months for one opportunity, but they’re still going to pounce on it.

I might have been creating smoke with the type of elaborate pyrotechnics you’d see in a Hollywood movie, while a dude from the hood might have to sit there and rub two sticks together like a caveman to create his smoke. But no matter how hard he has to work, he’s still going to do what it takes to create distractions.

So rather than worry about whether every man can run the same games that I did, the bigger question is, why do men in general spend so much time trying to MAN-ipulate rather than just be up-front about their intentions?

Wouldn’t it be easier for me to just tell a woman that I’m not ready to settle down than to spend so much time, brainpower and money cooking up elaborate ways to stall?

Of course it would. But our insistence on concealing our true feelings is one of the great ironies of the male mind state.

SO BOLD

In almost every aspect of their lives, men have very little trouble articulating how they’re feeling. In fact, we take pride in being very bold, very forthright and aggressive with our truth. We like to fancy ourselves generals marching at the front of an army. We want everyone to know where we’re at and what we’re planning to do. Except for when it comes to our relationships. Then, instead of that general, we tend to act more like thieves in the night.

I used to be a classic example of this kind of Jekyll and Hyde behavior. In my professional life I’ve never been shy about articulating my truth. If I think a promoter is jerking me, I’m going to get right up in his face and let him know that he’d better correct the situation ASAP. I’m not going to sulk or wait for the right moment to discuss the issue. No, the situation is going to get addressed immediately.

If I think a director needs to cast me in his new film, I’m going to get on the phone and make my pitch to him directly. Forget about hoping my agent can seal the deal. If I can get his number, that director is going to hear from me about why I would be great in his film!

Or let’s say I think I deserve the cover of a magazine. Then I’m going to get on Twitter and make my case as loudly as I possibly can. I’m even going to ask my fans to write to that magazine and tell them that they want to see me on the cover