About The Funk...

Observational Spittle from the mind of a man of color in his 40s, without the color added (most times). Come in, laugh, and you may learn something...

90 Things That Irritate The Sh** Out Of Me Trailer

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Vanilla Preferences When You Are A Chocolate Mr. Goodbar

Eh yo and whatnot....

I happened to check the date of my last post....damn, it's been awhile, hasn't it?

You'll have to forgive me; I tend to, well, stop giving 2 wipes of a charmin sheet when it comes to my writing at times. I guess it comes from 100 or so rejection letters for manuscripts I actually had hope that someone might want to publish. Hell, who wouldn't want to read these classics....

"Are Black Gay Guys the Original 'Bro-mance'"
"Toejams: Not Just for Soups and Dips Anymore"

...and my personal favorite manuscript:

"Holy Crap, You Are One Ugly Mutha (What, I Am Just Talkin' About that Ugly Bitch On Da Corner)"

Sigh...anyway, let's move on!

I am actually currently sitting in a hospital room as my 3 year old is getting over some surgery (tonsils and the like; fun shit, I tell ya) and I figured that as that I am in a children's hospital, and I can't catch "SportsCenter", I figured I'd try to get the old juices floating again...

...so it can be read by the big 3 to 4 people who even bother with this thing...:)

Ok then...

I have come to a quick conclusion about myself after nearly 40 years on this planet (and about 32 years after I figured out that having ladies play with my penis, well, feels good). I have been married for 9 years in a couple of weeks to a wonderful lady, and I chuckled over the fact that she's put up with my backside for so long. As I was pondering this thought, a lovely woman of color, dressed to the hilt in business attire (major, major turn on for the G, I tell ya), and as far as I can tell, this sister didn't have problem getting dates back in the day (lady was married; saw the major "bling" on her finger, so as far as I can tell based on the size of her diamond on the wedding ring, her husband has 6 jobs and donates blood once a week to pay for the thing).

Normally (and thank God my wife is understanding of this, otherwise I'd be the one with 6 jobs and donating blood to pay off my alimony) when a woman dressed as this passes me be, I at the very least gave in her direction, raising my right eybrow and saying "lawd....chilli sauce!" (A Morris Day reference, for those not down with the funk) before continuing on to whatever or wherever I was doing/going. However, as lovely as this woman was, beyond a quick glance (due to that business suit), I continued to head towads McDonald's to hasten my own demise with sausage gravy and biscuits helping the cause.

A few minutes later, I was headed back to my son's room when I saw that same woman checking out a book fair that was going on at the hospital. I glanced again, and began to chuckle to myself, as an old thought crept back into my mind as I continued my trek back to my baby boy's place of recovery...

...it takes an absolutely gorgeous black woman to make me say my "chili sauce" line....yet, an average white/hispanic/whatever race you can think of woman, as long as they are my physical type, will turn my head at least 10 times more often.

For years, that bothered me...it has been something like 21 years since I dated a woman of color, mostly because a lot of "sisters" (I never felt comfortable with terms such as these, as that while as I understand the entire racial solidarity thing, I have 2 half sisters by relation, and that's about it. But we'll go with this term for now) didn't think I was, well, "black enough" or strong enough to be their man.

Interesting theory, I thought....as that, well, if I strolled into a KKK meeting, I am quite sure they'll think I was more than "black enough"...as they would force me to, well, "hang around."

(Bad joke, I know...moving on...)

That isn't to say that I married my wife, who happens to be Caucasian, simply because she burns in any kind of sunlight and I hoped her nipples were pink. My lady is my buddy, and that is what makes our marraige work during the good and crappy, 16 month with no paycheck times (not that I am complaining...lol). But all of us have preferences, and over the years, a non-black woman (with the exception of, say, Janet, Halle, Stacey Dash (that fine sister from the film "Clueless) and a couple of others who are so not coming to mind right now, most of fantasy I have involve ladies with hair that doesn't need "Afro-Sheen."

Does that make me a sellout, or a "victim" of going to college and being exposed to a whole new world from my days in the Bronx?

Who the hell knows.

I remember having a massive crush (and what I consider, one of my great mistakes as a teen) on a lovely West Indian girl named Juliet...she was gorgeous, with a heart to match. Dug this girl since the 8th grade. To quote a famous Aerosmith track, I was truly a "High School Loser, never made it with the ladies" sort of dork. 11th grade rolls around, and I finally got to date her...she was in love with me, I thought I had the perfect girl...until a Hispanic girl named Serena showed up, and I forgot Juliet existed...broke up with her to chase Serena down...and ended up alone.

Thank god for a video rental card, access to the porn section, and a strong right hand.

Yeah, that was gross...

...but the point was, hell, "sisters" after my last girlfriend of color in my freshman year of college just thought I sucked as bad as singers named Mike liked little boys.

I guess that is what sort of set me off towards looking elsewhere. The ladies of the "Non-Negro Leagues", whether it was for the fascination with black men (and the supposed stereotypes) or just figuring I was different from what they were used to, found me intertesting and funny (especially once I finally gained confidence in myself in my mid 20's) and wanted to date me.

The "sisters"?

I was too odd, too out there, too "Carlton"-like for their tastes (probably because you could hear rap music come out of my car one minute, and whatever rock band that was popular at the time coming out the next).

I always wanted to expand my horizons...I just wished at the time that a woman of color, one who could truly understand and share the experience of being black in america, wouldn't of minded to travel with me.

Anyway, my son is sitting in my wife's arms, in some pain as that part of his throat is rotting in some tray somewhere in the hospital that I am sitting in now. I just looked at her, and she picked up some new glasses, which I think look really cute on her. I see her ever day, and while we do toss some race-related sarcasm towards one another, I for my part see a woman that I married for who she is, and not because she used suntan lotion # 45 (or whatever the hell rating that crap has on it; can ya see that I am not a white dude? LOL).

So a woman who is non black may get my attention faster than a black woman would.

I guess I sort of blame myself for that, true.

But, as in divorce, perhaps the fault may involve both parties...or no fault at all.

We all develop preferences on what we do or do not like...guess that's what makes us human, unique, and well, us.

Damn it, just realized something....Halle and Stacey are half-white. F'd up that theory, huh?

Chili sauce!

1 comment:

Ellie said...

Welcome back to the blogosphere. I missed you. Good post.