Month: October 2013

The Ladies Guide To Dating Multiple Men

Or should I say “How to get Society to label you a Ho?”

Let’s not pretend it’s not logical or even something some of us desire.  Sometimes, you simply want the company and attention of more than one man, and you have the right to get what you want, no? 

As women we aren’t all seeking to be wifed up and baking for The One. Life is like a box of chocolates, and so are men.  You never know what you might get, but it’s up to you which ones you taste and swallow. 

1. What Do You Want?

Do you want to “play the field” or are you seeking a partner to settle with? Do you simply enjoy feeling wanted? WHY do you want this? Knowing this is very important and will guide you when you reach a few snags along the way.  It’s kind of like, starting the gym and having that one picture that reminds you exactly why you do this everyday. Except a lot less, mechanical and calculated. 

2. How Do You Want It?

In the event that you’re in this for the fun of it, it’s quite important to remember that and never cross certain emotional boundaries.  If all you want out of someone is their company and possibly sex, avoid being the “I know we aren’t together but where were you last week I heard you were seen with a Lady” person.  Of course you may feel territorial, it happens, but with enough suitors you’ll find it happens less and less.

If you’re seeking a partner, it’s a different process.  Approach these men with the intent to learn about them before you’re ready to stick the “Boyfriend/Lover” label on them. Looks aren’t enough here, nor are basics manners. You can choose whomever you want , in no rush. Don’t feel the need to snag the prettiest man, or the funniest, even if you aren’t compatible. 

Take the time to weigh your options.

3. R.E.S.P.E.C.T

Avoid men who want to shame you or box you in, period.  These are decisions that you’re making about your Life based on your desires.  Seek companions who respect that, and you. 

You too should respect them and that they may be doing the same thing.

We’re all adults at this point and should feel free to lay expectations on the table. We don’t need to waste each other’s time nor drag people along who don’t understand nor feel comfortable on the ride. 

4. Discretion 

Is the first “D” you should get. No one needs to know your business. Oftentimes one finds themselves sharing every sexual experience, date and glance with friends, and really, we don’t need to do this. 

Granted, there are things you might want to share, and really feel free to. But not everything. It isn’t always necessary and it isn’t always advisable

5. Act like a Human Being, Think like a Human Being

This is not a mind game.  The plan isn’t to have minions and sex slaves clamoring for your time and adoration. 

I am not Steve Harvey and you are not stupid.

Rational, emotional human beings aren’t to be pulled into situations and treated like dirt.

6. Control

You are always in control. You decide what you want, what you can handle and what you’d rather not have. The people in your Life are those who you’ve sought out and accepted. Keep this in mind and treat them accordingly.

7. The sex

Due to society looking down on a woman who lets ANY penis into her, you might find it hard to get intimate with these partners. I say in that case, think of this as a dance rather than a gangbang. You waltz with one dick here, twerk on another there. 

A woman’s sexuality is only truly in her hands when she takes it back from society’s mold and reshapes it herself. 

You can fuck them all if you want to. 

At the same time, if they agree. 

And that’s all you.

It won’t change the world. 

It won’t bring back Jesus.

It simply will Be.

 

 

Who you choose to date, how and why is all up to you.  The fact that people have an opinion on it doesn’t mean that they have a say in it.  You have the right to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of the O, and what kind of different Licks exist, after sushi and wine.

And remember: Shame is an inherited emotion meant for ugly people. 

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And Still I Rise: The Queer Version

After reading this.

And a heated Twitter rant here.

Came the following:

And Still I Rise: The Queer Version

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like sluts, I fuck.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got Beyonce chilling in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like Rihanna gets high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?

Are you into BDSM?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Are you seeking a sub?

Don’t you take it awful hard,

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got Gaga sashaying in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

You may try to read me,

But still, like Lindsay Lohan, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got the fountain of Youth at the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise I’m a vast ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling

Leyomi dropping and sashaying,

I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise

So don’t be a bitch, dear

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the closeted and queer.

I rise

I rise

I rise

 queer

I’m disappointed.

I’m ashamed.

And I can’t say I’m shocked but sometimes, I still marvel at society’s ignorance.

This is one of those times.

Black Like Miley

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The most offensive things about cultural appropriation have to be the facts that

1. What is so important to you, is only a pretty/interesting thing that  many  don’t bother to look into or appreciate.

2. Because they don’t understand nor appreciate it, they turn it into a parody of what it actually is.

3. Someone will always make it seem like you’re overreacting.

[see more]

Spare The Rod, Spoil The Brat

At some point in time it was decided that children had so many rights that parents were only entitled to one: The right to appease them.  The child had the right to happiness, so spoil them, don’t discipline them, and shift the whole balance of power around to the point where all lines are blurred.  As a result a lot of parents ended up practicing what some refer to as Passive Parenting.  

Despite the fact that my brother and I aren’t what I deem that far apart in age, we’ve been raised completely different.  It’s said that the first child is always the Experiment. Parents try out what they’ve learned over the years on you, sometimes they coddle you other times they neglect you. Sometimes they appease you, other times they shame you for even having any desires. Honestly, the First Child gets it all and if you don’t end up as a basket case, I’m proud of you. 

The Second Child [Which in this case, is my brother, and the last] gets it much easier. See, by this time, Dr Phil and some magazine advice column have told your parents the “right” way to raise children. The right way entails more “communication” than action. More “bonding” than raising and guiding. Frankly, more talk than action. 

As it tends to happen with lines from the Bible, someone decided “Spare the rod, spoil the child” meant just that: Be your child’s bitch, and as it often happens again, everyone followed blindly. 

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All too often I find myself in the middle of arguments between my mother and my brother.  My 11 year old brother yelling at my 50 year old mother to keep quiet and let him speak as I count the number of times I would have slapped him for every single wayward comment he makes. 

I intervene. 

I put him in his place.

I remind him to respect his elders.

I discipline him.

I explain things to him.

And I’m disgusted.

They’re raising a little asshole.

I believe parenting is more raising an adult than raising a child. You don’t coddle an idiot, breed unsavory behaviour then think one day when they get a college degree it will change. 

You don’t raise an entitled, disrespectful control freak then think one day he’ll be a decent human being. 

You cannot raise a tiny douchebag and expect him to be a Prince.

And my mother tells me she doesn’t believe in hitting children so what else is there?

Being quick to raise your hand when your child messes up isn’t always the solution but it’s not the Evil deed it’s been made to seem either.

Hitting your child once in a while will not lead to you paying for counselling sessions in the future and nor will it turn them into a serial killer. We were hit and we turned out just fine. [Kind of, but, you know..Our problems don’t stem from being disciplined “too much”.]

My mother didn’t have to hit me for me to respect her.

She didn’t terrorize me. 

Contrary to popular belief, Black parents aren’t irrational tyrants who keep us all in line with belts and cuss words. 

I respected her as a provider, as a care taker, as my mother, as someone who knew more than I did. It was only when I became a teenager that I started talking back and engaging in dialogue with her and even then, it was to understand things. [Of course teenage angst played a part in me trying to come for my mother’s wig sometimes but..hey..It happens.] 

I didn’t respect my parents out of fear, I respected them because I understood the contribution that they made to my Life. I also respected them because they wouldn’t expect anything less from me.

Now? Not so much.

When did our parents start raising full out unapologetic brats and why?

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Was it when people started using half baked psychological knowledge to explain their wayward behaviour?

Did the stories of serial killers whose mothers physically abused them scare ours into believing every single slap would make your child a psychopath?

Who do you blame when your child knows you’re afraid of them and so takes advantage? Who do you get mad at?

Who’s at fault when you were so busy out buying books from people who don’t know your family, some of which have no kids themselves, that you built no relationship with your child?

Who do you blame when you realize by the time they’re a teen, you can’t really do much?

What are you going to do when you realize you’re not really a parent and are now merely someone to finance their lifestyle and teach them how to be a dick?

Oh so Slutty

Somewhere along the line we decided only women who had experienced some sort of trauma or difficulty in Life could enjoy sex.  Daddy issues, molestation, underlying hatred for their mothers and a need for attention were all reasons why a woman may choose to “act out” sexually [and by “act out” I mean own her sexuality].  The idea was sold and bought by many. 

I used to run to “Daddy issues” when asked about my rather colourful sexual history. It wasn’t enough to say “I have sex with people because I want to”, it didn’t sit well with me either, at a time when I was afraid to be shamed and was only accepting of myself when alone. I had the confidence to have sex but not enough to wear my sexual freedom proudly. At the end of the day, when questioned about it, it always seemed easier and less shameful to play the victim. To seem helpless instead of admitting that I had simply done what I wanted to do.

As I’ve grown I’ve met a lot of women just like me. 

Women I’d share glasses of wine and sob stories with.

“My father was never home so that’s why I have sex with a lot of men. I need acceptance from a male figure. Any male figure.”

“My father cheated on my mother so I could never be faithful.  I’m doing to men what he did to her.”

“I don’t have a father so fuck men.. I’ll treat them how I want.”

And it all makes sense on some level, but for how long?

 

Eventually I had to realize that I couldn’t continue to blame my father for my actions/desires. I was too old and too intelligent for that. After a while playing the victim became redundant and I could not claim to be strong, responsible and in control if I couldn’t even own and admit to the things I did/wanted to do. 

The process of truly owning your sexuality isn’t a flawless one. It isn’t swift either. It involves dispelling myths and unlearning a lot of shame that has been instilled in us as we grow and that is hardly ever easy.  You have to know WHY you think as you do, what it means for your actions and behaviour and how to proceed from there. 

We can’t all be Samantha Jones, and I doubt even she was Samantha Jones from the very moment she became sexually active. It takes a lot for the average woman to say “I fuck because I want to and fuck you if you have an issue.” The society we find ourselves in isn’t often accepting of that. You’ll be called all sorts of names, often. You’ll be disrespected often. You’ll get “Who touched you?” more than you’d like to and a lot of people will look at you as an anomaly. 

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To be a proud, sexually emancipated woman often leaves one lonely.

Other women may not want to interact with you because they, in their repressed state, believe you’re a Sex Demon from Hell sent forth to test their relationships. 

Men will treat you like an accessible porn star.

And both groups will, to a certain degree, shun you.

Because in this society, a woman who enjoys her sexuality is defined by it. She becomes it in people’s eyes. 

She is a walking, talking vagina.

A creature that does more fucking than living.

Jezebel.

A nymph. 

And knowing this, I understand why many choose to be seen as weak individuals who’re ran by their insecurities and fears instead of simply a woman who likes to have sex.

When they think you can’t help it, society is a tad bit more forgiving. The insults less creative. They’ll call you a silly slut but maybe, in your mind, the “silly” before the “slut” shows some kind of compassion. 

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Understand that the same people making you feel ashamed of your desires really add nothing to your Life, so why let them take?

I can tell you this, I’ve never been broken or truly hurt in any way by the name calling.  

They are words.

Words spoken by people who lack the emotional maturity and intelligence to understand “choice” and “desire”.

Words by people who don’t respect you.

So why is their opinion relevant?

Why  are you letting their tiny brains dictate and keep you from your joy?

Fuck them. 

Fuck them all, honey. 

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