Mar 07 2010
A majority of the buyers are women. Why? Women are told everyday in the media that they need to improve. All products are pushed at them. They are being told 24/7 that they are never good enough.
Men tuned out a long time ago.
Actually, ads are about exploring pleasure for men, and working at being perfect – clean house, neat and orderly life – for women.
I used to buy books wondering why I was sooooo sensitive and then I realized! Most people are rude barbarians, and I adjusted….
Mar 05 2009
What does one do when a friend introduces you to a man that doesn’t interest you? I was rather taken aback by the whole thing. She’s a great friend, but I never made the request for her to find me an old black man.
This was actually the second (or was it more than that?) time she had done this. I have to remember to tell her: Please, please, stop.
I may be lousy at picking men, but I doubt her choice would’ve been better. Over the years, our taste in men have diverged. I didn’t expect, or ask, her to find me someone that would appeal to me.
Although I had absolutely no interest in the fellow, I made sure I was nice to him. I mean, he was a friend of a friend.
If he asked a question, I answered as honestly as I could. I suspected he thought I was joking, but I was not.
We met the first night he came over with my friend’s friend. He was an overweight, rotund fellow in his forties to late fifties. He was brown skinned, with an oval face, and 5′8″ or 5′9″ in height. He seemed low key, an overly modest guy. He later admitted that he drank too much alcohol.
My friend claimed she never heard him talk as much as he did since meeting me. Really?
He tells me that he had peaked into the window before he entered the house – so he could check me out, and that he liked what he saw.
He asked me if I liked jewelry. His friend said that women liked money, and it’d probably be better to just give them that. I said, It depends, a gift is important to remember like for a birthday, but not necessarily for an occasion like Valentine’s Day.
He asked me if I cooked. My response: Nope.
Then he wanted to know, What are my hobbies? I responded, Like what for example? Seems no one really has one – they just like to ask.
Have I ever hunted? He’s asking because he’s a “country boy.” Really?
Do I have children? Ever been married? Have a boyfriend? Was I religious? Nope, no, no, and not at all. These responses seem to elicit the most shock amongst black people. A non-religious black woman without children and without a boyfriend are oddities. I guess I’m on the express track to Hell, or a miserable life, or something. Snicker.
I asked him if he’s ever traveled, since that’s what I like to do. He drawls that he will one day; hasn’t done it yet. He gave me his dream list of places I’d already visited. I decided that his response on travel told me not to hold my breath. He’s five years past due to retire and was disinclined to leave “work.”
My uncle told me that most men died after they retired, because they had no actual plans for life after work. I think this guy wants to “check out” on the job.
Now, I know my friend would think that’s a good feature: Here’s a guy who could be persuaded (begged, pleaded with, and nagged) into retiring and traveling. She’s probably right.
Much much later, my friend figures out that I am going to “run him off.” I told her – more than once – he’s nice, I’m just not interested. He was not my type. She wanted to know what my type is.
I was surprised that she missed the hints I gave before: a really really smart, literate, quasi-nerd, Indian or White man, or a gorgeous man who wont fight a woman for the mirror. It’s a superficial sketch, nothing deep.
She meant well. Her point of view made him a suitable catch: he was an old-southern-black-gentleman, working, kinda-single, kinda-lives-alone, and “accessible.” I was supposed to be excited by this fellow. I found him more than a tad bit irritating.
I told her, I wish him well, and finds himself a country-girl.
I didn’t tell her, but when I looked at him, I saw: a condescending, overfed, drinks-too-much, intellectually-incurious, non-traveling couch-potato.
I had nothing against the man: we just weren’t a match.
Mar 03 2009
For a number of years, I did not care about being married. I did not want to be. I considered myself unsuitable for matrimony. I like my own company. I’m something of a loner. I’m sociable when I need to be, but I’m no extrovert. I am not shy anymore, although I used to be. I’ve learned to manage social anxiety better. It’s a constant battle.
Based on experience, it appears that every American woman who’s married, is part social butterfly, party animal, and has a million and one damn friends. The “most popular” girls in school end up someone’s wife, not the introspective and quiet ones.
I’m ambivalent about children. I want them, yet I don’t want to give birth to any. I am terrified of hospitals. Childbirth frightens me. Whenever I hear about the horrid things that happen to children, I realize that once I have them the worrying will never stop. There’s no such thing as really letting go of them when they turn 18 years old. Yet, I do understand that there is a lot of joy in having children. Perhaps I am too mindful of the negative with regards to them.
I am an ultra-low stress person. Everything about marriage, children, and maintaining a household sounds like a ton of nerve-racking stress to me. I live in holy fear of marrying the wrong guy. I feel, as a woman, that the wrong man is life altering: they can ruin and even take it away.
I know I shouldn’t be such a pessimist. It is weird that I even feel this way. I grew up attending weddings. I must have attended a wedding nearly every year since I was a small child. The majority of those couples are still together. Outside of a handful of relatives, nearly everyone is married.
I’ve also never been pressured to get married. (Well, um, okay, I was pointed in the direction of one guy since we were babies.) I probably could have gotten hitched if I made it a priority. Yet, I’ve made working and the “career” a priority. Hey, bills have to be paid.
I’ve always wondered how women are able to balance it all. I never could get the hang of going to school, working, studying, and keeping myself fit, healthy, and awesome looking. I am so used to doing everything alone: how do I share now? I mean, I fought with my older brother over socks when we were kids. Everything I had belonged solely to me. I am the only girl. I never had to share! I am a spoiled brat.
Culturally, my background is one where women look after the men. I think I expected that the kind of guy I married would help around the house, but looking after all domestic affairs would be my job. That’s a step, as a household decision maker, I don’t want to take. I want to be taken care of, I don’t see looking after anyone as my job. I would do it, but I don’t want it to feel like a burdensome obligation. Looking after one’s mate, after all, is a labor of love.
I’m also afraid of a man trying to control me. I’ve yet to have a boyfriend not concerned with constantly checking up on me, trying to direct me, and focusing on my time (or money). I know I allowed it. I wondered if could I live with it as a married woman. Long term, it’s exhausting to resist or combat. If I feel suffocated with a possessive boyfriend, imagine trying to breathe with a husband who wants me on lock down?
Last, but not least. How do people keep the passion going? I hear that sex is the first thing that goes. Just awful! That shouldn’t be the sole reason for getting hitched, or divorced. Man, I’d hate to be married to a 5 second man with a small penis. Shallow and trivial, yes, but an unsatisfied woman, namely me, does not make for a contented, or happy chick. And it’s a great formula for sound sleep.
I am single, and yet thoughts of getting hitched float into my head more often these days.
My ideal guy’s complexion would range from very light brown to very pale. He also has to be very smart, nice, responsible, and ambitious. If he’s a bit of nerd, I like that even more. I like having a man to talk to – followed by intense, fantastic, animal-like sex.
Maybe that’s an impossible combination, yet I’m hopeful.
Feb 16 2009
I’ve never flaunted it, or thought it was something worth celebrating, or dreading. It’s just there. I know it’s big, but I’ve never been ashamed of it. It just is. I didn’t put it there, I was born with it, or it grew to that proportion.
The big behind wasn’t first noticed in high school, or even junior high.
Nope, that torment started when I was just around 6 to 8 years old. What’s funny is that the first person to mention it was my neighbors’ mother. A good question to ask is why did the sight of my behind prompt her to utter this stupidity: “Oh, you have such a big butt.” This, by the way, from an adult black woman with enormous hindquarters of her own.
Oh well. One must say, “Thank you,” to the idiot in this situation, and move on.
Up to this day, there is not one picture of myself as a child, that would have me think: “Wow, that is a big ass!” It’s not there. I don’t see it. I think people who see a black female (child or woman), by default, simplistically think that this characteristic is something we all must have, whether the evidence is there or not.
I think people should let up on pointing out obvious, or not, physical characteristics of a child, especially if it is a part of their anatomy that cannot be changed. Talking about the size of my behind did not give me a booty complex, but a less stalwart child may be affected by this obnoxiousness.
I embrace my behind, I’ve fallen on it many a time, thankful for the cushion from serious injury.
I love my butt, and make sure that the jeans, pants, and body hugging clothing I wear, shows it off.
I like my derriere, because as many an ass-clown on the street has said: “You’ve got a great future behind you.”
Jan 19 2009
I don’t have a term for men like these. They are not homosexual, but they fit an old school type of thinking. I think of them as men who are always around other men.
They have their boys, they hang out together, they are very tight, they put their friends before their girlfriends or wives. They really only have one use for women. They are polite to women, unlike today’s oinkers, but they don’t see the point in hanging around the “fairer” sex.
I was describing this type of man and my Mom knew exactly what I was talking about. I don’t think they exist anymore. The kind of men like this that come to mind are Frank Sinatra’s rat pack. You know what I mean?
Jan 02 2009
This is a new issue to me. I think it’s rather interesting, that recently I’ve been running across men who want to grab my hair. Maybe other women are used to this, but as someone who’s hair never went past her ears in the past, this is new to me.
Do I like it? Oh yeah, it’s an odd thrill, that’s for sure.
As long as he doesn’t pull too hard.
Dec 21 2008
Aren’t people supposed to be able to date, mate and procreate with whom they want? And that’s nobody’s business, but their own?
When did the mating selection of individuals become an issue with other people, strangers no less!, and their delicate sensibilities?
Is this political correctness, or some other form of stupidity run amok?
There are people actually employed to blog, others blogging via free will, and the rest commenting to some degree as to how “heartbroken” and “hurt” they are by the dating / mating preferences of others. WTF? Is high school not over with yet?
I’m talking about black women worried over who black men date white, Asian or latina exclusively. This goes right alongside with black men making end-times declaration that the end of the black race is near – now that it is black women who are “stepping out.” ‘Cause, you know, all was right with the world when it was the exclusive proclivity of black men.
There are nearly, if not actually more than, a billion Africans and their descendant diaspora all over planet Earth. Um, I don’t think the “black race” has much to worry about. No group practices endogamy more than black America. A few people want to date who they want, and all of a sudden it is a phony national black crisis.
These nitwits even have the incredible audacity to know the mindset, psychological makeup, environmental background, and inner thoughts of these self-selective daters. They know so much about everything. It has to be self-hate not to want to engage in that mythical thing called “black love.”
If one has a good thing going on, why worry over the personal relationships of others – who happen to be black?
In regards to one particularly individual, he seems to be planning something shady. On his blog he claims to be married, and yet, and yet, he’s intently studying the classified ads of single black women.
One ad has him nearly apoplectic. Why? Well, she expressed a preference for “white men only, no black men need apply.” Did he plan on giving the single black woman a call, send a text, an email, to tell her of his sorrow over her personal interests? I’ve had black male morons IM and email me expressing their particular idiocy over my preferences. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did contact her. It’s black male narcissism, or black thought police at work here.
One word, near the top of a long list, may explain why some black women like white men: cunnilingus.
However, I’ve seen so many, many, many! personal ads, where every critter (even da brothas) wants every woman except a black one.
Am I supposed to care? I didn’t. I don’t. I haven’t; never will.
People need to get over themselves. Worrying over the tastes and interests of others in their dating / mating preferences is narcissism.
It is not all about you.
Nov 21 2008
I’m not a Bible thumper. I’m not religious. I don’t believe in end-times, or anything like that. I see myself as moderate, perhaps a tad conservative. I’m not a “liberal” or “progressive.” Although those terms often seem to mean: I do not think. Rules are lame. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, society – everyone – has no say over me.
We live in a permissive, shameless, and immoral society. There is a massive group for whom delayed gratification does not exist. If it feels good, Do it! Damn the consequences. That’s the motto. I’m not convinced there ever was a season of restraint amongst the peoples of this country, but now, I believe, we are completely boundless. Is technology and the ease with which spreading and making depavity fun to blame?
Whaaaa, Don’t Judge Me
There are people who like to get out their favorite quote, which says: “Don’t judge, lest you be judged.” Online, no group seems to find this comment more empowering than black people. It’s the default response to hearing / reading criticism(s) they don’t like. I get it. I don’t like anyone telling me what to do either.
However, if you don’t want commentary, a rebuke, or a wagging finger of shame – don’t invite it.
Conservative? Really? Get Out!
There seems to be a consensus on some blogs that the majority of black people are “conservative.” I have yet to see any evidence of it. Attending church and voting against gay nuptials do not count. I don’t know how much I agree with Bill Cosby. The “black community”, while succeeding incredibly on some fronts, is tumbling down a flight of stairs, about to jackknife into the cellar, and then roll six feet into the ground – failing! – in other areas.
The evidence walks the streets in neighborhoods broken and decimated over the last 30-40 years. Single motherhood, single fatherhood, out of wedlock births, foster care, drug abuse, generations in prisons, dysfunctional schools, and fractured families have done their damage to the “black community.” A civilization (not that I am certain that the USA is one, but it is part of the Western World) cannot survive with broken families. This kind of social breakdown will lead to more chaos, not less.
Marriage Is Not For Selfish People
I don’t think marriage is the end all, be all. I agree with people who say they aren’t made for marriage. However, when people bring children into this world, they refuse to show maturity by not getting married. You are selfish. Children are not pets. How is being a baby-mama or baby-daddy good for a child?
This is the sorry age we live in: me first. Do you even know what a family is? What a legacy is? What passing on traditions mean? Do you realize you have to give back to society as well? Do you realize your offspring, you, and your mate, are part of the building blocks of this civilization?
Some Lifestyle Choices Are Damaging
The decline of the black family is like a thread unraveling the fabric of a sweater called civilized society. It starts with “our” community, but it will hit the mainstream eventually. But no one is worried! Hey, let the good times roll. Why? Because it’s a progressive and liberal lifestyle choice! Do what you feel, no one has a right to comment on it.
So, if black people really were “conservative” a whopping 70% of children would be born to married couples, with fathers around to raise them. Alas, they are not. Conservative minded individuals delay gratification, spend more time in school, and get themselves together before procreating. The principle is to be steady, stable, and secure before having people dependent on one. A strong family also makes it easy to have children early and in less than ideal conditions.
You Have My Pity
The way I look at it, if you tell the entire world that you are proud to have children without marriage, don’t be surprised at the responses. I pity the people involved, especially the women who believe the men are “committed” to them and the children of these relationships. Adulthood brings responsibility, things that cramp one’s style. It can be joyless and boring.
I’m the first to admit I would love to postpone adulthood, and continue acting like an adolescent indefinitely. People need to stop pretending, begin to act like adults, and get with the program. You are part of a civilized society, only barbarians and pirates get to do whatever they want.
Jun 19 2008
Three years ago I stopped reading fiction.
Currently, I read a lot of blogs regarding business, personal relationships, health, technical and political stuff. I still browse business magazines, general non-fiction covering money or societal issues, and technical issues to brush up my rusty or decaying programming skills.
However, I can no longer read any of my old favorites: erotic thrillers and romance novels. I truly was an avid book reader. I used to read half-a-dozen books a week. I’d read science fiction to horror novels. I couldn’t walk past a bookstore without picking up the latest pulp about a Raven-Haired or Auburn-Haired Damsel during the Regency Era.
Nowadays, I walk past the bookstore. Even if I do go in to browse, I walk past the romance section. It’s like an ex-friend I pretend I never knew.
I’ve fallen out of love with love stories.
I really can’t fathom the cause of this. I just went cold turkey one day. Perhaps I’m tired of suspending my disbelief, or I’m just tired of reading situations that no longer interest me. I used to love immersing myself in the world of a young woman going out west to meet her dusty, crusty, taciturn, yet hot! rancher husband for the first time.
It used to be nice to get lost in that fantasy world.
Today, I can’t get interested, because I have too many pressing personal issues.
I doubt I’ll ever pick up any of these books again. Movies and television shows may be next.
