Southern White Men Hate Black Women

It is a known fact that I am (and have always been) attracted to the “other white meat” (and no, it’s not pork – I’m a vegetarian) aka Caucasian men. Blame it on my parents for teaching me (while growing up and maturing as a child) not to recognize color, but character.

Most of my preadolescent childhood was spent in a predominately white neighborhood (climbing magnolia trees, removing those prickly little things from my kinky textured hair, running to the mailbox in the rain with no shoes on, and camping out in the backyard). I experienced my first innocent crush in kindergarten. I recall standing by the art easels (minding my business) and painting a lady bug (well, it looked more like a beetle). And, this blond and blue-eyed boy asked me, “Do you taste like chocolate because your skin is brown?” I shrugged my shoulders and before I could completely turn back to my art project, he kissed me on the cheek. And, he then replies, “Yes, you do taste like chocolate.” I knew it was love. By the way, his name was Ray. And, till this day, my uncle still calls me “Ray Heart.”

Ray, if you’re still out there .. I’m single and available. This time I’ll kiss you back with a slight slip of the tongue.

As a child, I didn’t recognize a barrier or a difference in color until I was faced with a few racially motivated epithets … “You’re a n*****!” and “Go sit on the porch monkey!” One cannot truly understand what racism feels like until they have faced the communicable disease head-on. Racism is like poison that continuously flows through the veins of many folks … with no known antidote.

Living in the south and breathing the bittersweet country air can be annoying as hell. Many southerners are closed-minded and tend to follow a very straight and narrow path. Some tend to misquote biblical scriptures or verses (I know the Lord didn’t say that) only to mollify their tarnished little lives. And, this unjustified behavior is natively ingrained into the minds, hearts, and souls of both southern “white folk” and southern “black folk.”

Dating in the south … well, uh, yeah if you’ve read most of my posts you get the picture. Caucasian men don’t approach me or tend to look in my direction. I try almost everything to get their attention (stare them down until they feel uncomfortable; follow them around a store, event, or networking function; ask a rhetorical question-usually occurs if I’m at a sports bar or a popular eatery; or ask a friend to informally introduce me). I am only left shaking my head and releasing a long sigh of disappointment and rejection.

Some white men only view black women as “big booty whores” or “little black fantasies” or “bedroom projects.” Wait! Don’t start clapping or giving the dap my black brothers, you do the same thing shit. Always professing, “Oh, I cherish the beautiful black queen” only to turn around and ask a woman to bow down and get on her knees. I can only conclude with … men are men and of course, the obvious … southern white men hate black women.

As cliché as it may sound, love is truly blind; it releases passion, desire, affection, adoration, tenderness, admiration, intimate connections, sparks, and warm sensations …. love holds no color, religion or creed, sexual orientation (heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, asexual, metrosexual, etcetera … etcetera), status, or any other superficial label.

 

To Be Continued …

What to Expect as a Sexless Single Woman in Carolina

You read the title right!  No need to rub your eyes or scratch your head in confusion. I am happy to say that I am a sexless single woman. I shouldn’t profess it so bluntly, should I? … (clears throat) … I am a celibate single woman. Now, that sounds a bit more elegant and prude. Ha Ha! To be honest, I am proud to not spread my legs for the first guy who offers me a two piece snack deal or a biscuit without the honey. Hell, I am a vegetarian so widening my womb for chicken, pork, or steak is out the question.

Male and female friends of mine often ask the day old question, “How do you do it girl?” How? I tend to focus all of my attention on things that will bring value to my empire. Things that will increase my wealth. I’m sorry, one night of lust from a stranger will not add dinero (Ching Ching not Ding-a-Ling) into my checking account unless I am a high dollar prostitute willing to Flip it, Spin on it, Rock steady with it, or Drop it like it’s luke warm.

I don’t place sex at the forefront when meeting someone of the opposite sex. A guy of interest must be willing to carry on an intellectual conversation and converse via a phone conversation instead of texting slang every other day (Wyd, Hru, K, Y, GM)  I often respond with the following sequence of letters -> WTFAIWMT (Why The F-Bomb Am I Wasting My Time) only to get the infamous “?” (Question Mark).  LOL! Access Denied!

You can call me what you like. I refuse to lower my standards in an effort to change my status on social media from ‘Single” to “In a Relationship” only to change it to “It’s Complicated” the next week. You can call me old school or eldered. I still believe in courting (aka dating for the younger generation) before knocking the boots.

 

Dating is but a dream … Well, a NIGHTMARE!

As a young girl at a tender and preadolescent age, I always wanted to be an ethnic and beautiful princess with long flowing shiny black hair and slightly sun-kissed skin. Sort of like the Disney character, Princess Tiana from the animated film, The Princess and the Frog. I wanted to escape the immature and vulgar boys in grade school and ride happily ever after in a pink diamond encrusted carriage with my prince charming.

As I think about it (presently), my prince charming was like the perfect gentleman. The perfect partner that every girl (or woman) would often dream of (look at me now). He had a body like an overexposed jock, the scent of an Axe model (the pheromones would be electrifying), hair so perfectly molded that he used half a jar of Bed Head molding wax, and eyes like a Hawaiian sea at sunrise. Damn! If only day dreams were more than just a figment of the imagination or a mere escape from reality.

Now that I am 3 decades and several years old (coughs uncontrollably), nothing has truly changed in the imagination department. The boys that were once immature and displayed vulgar behavior are now living in men molds with the same adolescent mentality.

After my amicable divorce in 2012, I was forced to enter the dark age of dating again. Holy Shit! I thought I had somehow entered the land of the lost and never found (some men were and still are using their penis as a compass to find the land of va-jay-jay). This can not be real!

Fast Forward two years (inserts Back to the Future theme song) to my dismay, dating has become nothing more than a race to the bedroom with dirty funky sheets and leftover bodily fluids from the previous sexcapade. (Grabs my crotch in disgust). YUCK! No one has standards or respect anymore. Who do you blame? Men, Women, the Media, or Society as a whole? I’m still searching for the answer to this sought after question that seems to fade into an atmospheric cluster of debris.

Hooray! This is my first blog post! Look forward to candid interviews with other singles and couples, real life experiences (dating), and other dateless mumbo jumbo. This is going to be one hell of a ride ladies and gentlemen … buckle up for safety while I prepare to accelerate into the whirlwind of dating (dateless) in carolina.