The Great White Hype

When I was in high school, there weren't really that many black guys running around my neighborhood. Needless to say I dated nothing but white boys until my first black boyfriend. After him, my preference changed real quick. That's not to say I don't still find men of other races attractive, but I definitely prefer the black man. The topic of interracial dating has always been a hot one. We've all had heated debates about men and women of other races, mixing and mingling and with the decline of love in the black community, it'd be safe to say many of those arguments have gotten pretty bad. We've all caught ourselves noticing a black girl and her asian boyfriend, hand in hand walking the streets of Brooklyn (except me, because Brooklyn is far). But seriously, it seems we're quick to play the "one of these things just doesn't belong here" game instead of saying, hmm, maybe they're happy together regardless of color.

I love Love and what it does to people. It changes their look on the world, their attitude, the pep in their step. It makes them happy, so why is it when I see a black man loving a white girl, I get irritated. Yes, it's a blatant double standard giving my dating past, but I'm just being honest. When I was in high school, my best friend (who was very jewish) loved her some black boys. She'd go as far as the eye could see to find one. One day we were having a regular bff conversation when I mentioned how she'd have cute little mixed babies one day. Well, the look on my bff's face was like I'd just told her she'd won the brussel sprout lottery. "I date black guys, but I would never marry one," she said pointedly. I'm pretty sure we got into some sort of an argument after that as I told her how ridiculous she was. So, black men were good enough to ahem, but not good enough to marry? The argument surged on, but she eventually blamed her jewish parents, stating that they'd "kill her if she married a black guy." Lovely.

Maybe that's stuck with me, because fast forward how ever many years and it still bothers me. I have many black friends who date white girls, or girls from any cultural background for that matter, and many do it because they genuinely found commonalities with her and fell in love. Then there are those who are still under the impression that the great white hope is their ticket to crossing over, to being accepted and that having a boob-jobbed, blonde dyed, collagen injected version is the express train to the other side. It is not. In fact, I worry about them and their particular ideals. See, it isn't just about the asthetics of race, let's be honest, pretty is pretty regardless. It's about cultural differences. There's a comfort factor that many experience only within their own race. It's the reason every high school had a Korean Mafia, or why the black crew made fun of the one black skate-boarding, grunge-loving kid amidst his white cohorts. It's the reason the Clueless schoolyard exists. But I have a biased opinion. I mean, I am a black girl and this is my blog, so I went to the source: black men who have gone skiing a few times. Here's what they had to say:

Mr. Analogy: I enjoy a white woman every now and then the same way I will often choose a turkey burger over a beef burger.

Mr. Man of Few Words: I'm not really sure. Diversity, I guess. They aren't black so it's a change of pace. Same with asain and latinos, but there are just more white girls to choose from.

Mr. Asshole You Hate To Love: Man, do you know what white girls do in bed? I've had more threesomes, foursomes, twosomes, buttsomes, toysomes, and whatever else somes with white girls than I can count. They really let the good times roll. Anything goes, you can put whatever you want, wherever you want. Black girls are always complaining about sweating out their hair. White chicks get it in, but I'll probably marry a black girl-she better have nice hair though. [he said loads more, but I had to censor his ass]

Mr. Smarty Pants: I have always been attracted to what isn't my norm-white, hispanic, asian. Whatever isn't black has an intriguing appeal to me, but I like learning about different cultures, so women of those cultures always give me a peak into their lifestyles. But, naturally, black women respond to me in a much more comfortable way. They relate to my blackness, and we can interact as such. But I'm not just a black person. I'm a person. And I don't feel I should be limited to dating only black women, because they have something in common with my skin. I don't know, I just think it's strange that in 2006 interracial dating is still a problem in America. As if there are any indigenous people here in threat of losing their own culture. American culture can really only be defined as an all-encompassing one; made up of so many others. And no matter what race, or culture, or ethnicity, or nationality we're all black when the lights go out, right? lol

Mr. Jokes: It's been 400+ years of being killed for even looking at a white woman and now the polar opposite...maybe we're just making up for lost time:)

Mr. Horizon Expander: Why not? Why just date black chicks. I never wanted a white girl but I'm totally looking for one this spring and not like the obligatory fine one who's all in the black clubs. I want a regular white chick 'cause all I do is black shit. I need to expand my horizons. Now, I don't wanna marry a white woman, but it's more like this: everybody dates the same people for the most part. We recycle through two degrees of separation and I've fucked half the east coast of our diaspora: the upwardly mobile, HBCU educated, wall street, law school, drunken hot black women. Been there. Everybody's dated everybody. Everybody knows everybody! If you date a white woman, at least you get a clean slate. Nobody you know has smashed, your cousin won't be the girl's line sister's best friend. You get my drift. It's new and fresh. And it's a new challenge. This black thing isn't working too well anyway, so why not date whoever you want?

Mr. Bi-Racial: I haven't always dated white emo chicks. I used to date black girls too, but they had such an attitude problem. Oh man, I know I'm gonna get in trouble for saying this, but the ones I dated seemed to be so caught up in my white side. Like trying to get me to find my black side more and relinquish the rest. I'd always be like, look, this is who I am! My dad is black, my mom is white, the end. Either you like me or not. [i have to insert here that Mr. Bi-Racial is FINE, sorry, back to our program] My last girlfriend and I always had trouble having sex though. I'm not trying to be an asshole, but my dick is black, if you get what I mean...anyway, she ended up cheating on me with an Asian guy.

Any other snow bunnies out there? Men or women, please feel free to add your own thoughts to this ongoing debate.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Jump Off Drama

I got into a huge argument this morning. I was talking to a few of my co-workers about a topic everyone loves: jump off's.

Now, I've given my definition of a jump off before (check my relationship hierarchy post), but just in case you live under a rock or have differentiating views about the midnight cut buddy:

Jump off: "a casual sex partner." (thanks again Urbandictionary.com)

The conversation started off normally, one of the guys was talking about a girl he'd just met, just started "seeing," but since they got it in on the first night, and it was damn better than anything else, he'd started only going over for that. It seemed understood that this was all their relationship entailed. I, as usual, tossed in my opinions here and there, letting him know the female rules for a jump off and the time limit that I personally believe in (and have actually shortened to under two months based on some factors I'll discuss in another post). Just as the conversation was closing, one of my female coworkers, Barb, decided to chime in with her disdain for jump off relationships. I have no problem with other people having opinions, but remember that they are you and yours alone so don't try to make everyone else followers of your personal scripture. Well, Barb thought I needed to know how disgusting this type of relationship was, stating that it was demeaning and disrespectful for a woman to let some guy run up in her and roll. And she was getting loud.

Uh, okay.

I kindly let her know that it wasn't demeaning or disrespectful when both parties were cool with the situation, but Barb would have no parts, wouldn't even listen and I began to suspect Barb had been a jump off once without realizing or wanting it. She went on and on about how horrible those women were, how they made it worse for normal, self-esteem-having ladies. And Barb was getting louder.

Uh, ok. Completely unnecessary, Barb.

I almost snapped. I was irritated to no end and I let her know. How is it that it's all on the woman's shoulders, how is she a jezebel slut, but he's not even mentioned. Why is it such a double standard? If a girl is cool with the situation why is it such a disrespectful problem? Why assume that she has no self-esteem? Barb's response: "if you act like a ho, you get treated like one." I blinked several times, confused/stunned, because the word ho had never even been mentioned. Even my male co worker said that he didn't consider the girl he was sleeping with a ho, just what the situation was. Barb huffed and puffed that we were ridiculous and headed back to her perch across the room, which was smart because I was about to call her out. I just don't get the problem. If you're into it, you're into it. If you aren't, you aren't. Sort of like feng shui. If it's your bag, go for it, but don't pull out double standards and act like everyone else is disgusting for their own choices and decisions. Barb decided an email from her desk was necessary, where she angrily told ME (not the guy) that I should have more respect for women in general and not treat the topic so lightly, how sex is the joining of two souls, uniting and I should respect it. I do, and I don't sleep with every single person who crosses my path, but I wasn't about to defend my own opinion to Barb. Instead I told her she seemed stressed and I knew a guy who could work that out. She didn't reply.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo
Blackie Collins

Little Bits: Make Up Sex

According to the know-all for everything in life, the Urban Dictionary, make up sex is defined as "rough and extremely gratifying sex had after an argument."

(Pause in memory of all your reconciled arguments.)

There is nothing, nothing like make up sex. There is something so deep (pun intended) and intense about it. All residual emotions left over from the storm that came before are used like harsh rain drops, torpedoed at each other, creating an amazing, thunderous reaction.

Ok, so maybe it isn't that serious, but it's still pretty dope.

It's almost worth picking a fight over. And it doesn't have to be a knock down, drag out brawl. He could've just pissed you off and feels the need to make it up to you, like there's something to prove. And prove he will. From the jump off who must over compensate the next time he comes through to the all out battle with your man who must re-avow his love for you between the sheets, make up sex is one of the best of it's kind. So pick a fight today, tell 'em B said to, and enjoy the reconciliation.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Ask B.

Dear Blackie,

I met a guy about a month ago. Just to keep it quick, we hit it off immediately. Had one great date after another. My birthday happened to fall into that time and he really outdid himself. It all seemed to be going great! About a week ago, his daily phone calls decreased down to one or a few texts. Something seems off and while many of my friends are saying that I'm over thinking the situation, something just feels wrong. It seems too soon to ask him if everything is okay, but I'm getting worried. He seems to be drifting away and I don't really know what to think. Any ideas?

C (NYC)

C,

My best male friend, CJ, once said something to me that I will take with me wherever I go. I will share it to the masses because it has never failed or come up false. It is this: when a man isn't giving you his attention, he's giving it to someone else. I'm going to keep it honest here because the most obvious answer is usually the right one. Men are not the most complicated creatures, in fact they're quite easy to read if you pay attention and get your head out of the clouds. They are actually extremely honest and upfront, even if it isn't intentional, so when he isn't giving you his attention, it's probably because he's giving it elsewhere. It doesn't mean he isn't feeling you anymore, it just means someone else has been added to the team. That's the first part, the harsh part that I had to get out the way.

The next is something I've learned in my experiences: people only do what they want to do. As long as he's totally into you, he'll do whatever because it lines up with his own wants and desires too. They go in, yes they do, and not because they're trying to break your heart, but because they may see something special too. But just as easily as they're into you, one of their deal breakers can pop up and it can all be a quick wrap. Before you've even blinked, he's on to the next and you're wondering what went wrong. Perhaps it's something you did, perhaps not. Maybe it's just one of his weird turn offs. If this is the case, there isn't usually a whole lot of closure, which sucks, so you sort of just have to pick your jaw up off the floor and move on. It's only been a month, handful of dates. In the grand scheme of life, that's no time at all. And I don't say this to diminish what you had, I say this to be real. Think about the bigger picture here.

Finally, a woman's intuition is rarely off. Call it a blessing, call it a curse, but when a woman feels something in her gut, it's usually spot on. If you feel like something's wrong, you'll probably look back in hindsight and realize when that warning light lit up, something shifted. That shift is usually before a mudslide of some sort. Case and point. About a week before, around Thanksgiving, the guy I was dating was acting weird. As I put it to him? Disinterested. We talked about it, I was reassured that everything was okay, in fact, he seemed extremely sensitive to why I was feeling that way. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something seemed off. And if I look back and am completely honest, he wasn't drifting away, but things were shifting for sure. A few days after Thanksgiving, when everything seemed backed to normal, he broke things off and while I was shocked at the time, I think back to that little moment. The moment when a red flag shot up and was dog-earred. It all lined up. And later, as we tried to dig through the aftermath of taking a break, I knew it was over. Just something told me and so I cut all ties. It's just something women have. A sixth sense of sorts. If you feel like something's up, there probably is. If you feel like asking, go for it. If he's on his way out anyway, what do you have to lose? If he's just going through a busy or rough time, but cares about you and your company, he'll weave you into the loop and go forward from there. Women are often afraid of rocking the boat, asking questions, being up front. Men run for sure, but if he's going to run that easily, he isn't someone you want around, trust me.

Now, if you decide not to say anything, and he continues to slowly remove himself from your life, which is what he might be doing, don't fight that. No one wants someone around who doesn't want to be around. It'll only get messy. I firmly believe in the saying that people are removed from your life for a reason. Respect that reason and be thankful you got an out clause.

Hope that helped:)

B.

Little Bits: Use What You Got

I had a funny conversation with a male friend at work. We were talking about a familiar coffee shop near our job. One that we frequented during lunch breaks and quick latte runs. One where the staff knew us all for the most part. One that had a sweet little gay girl behind the counter, who gave me free stuff on a regular basis.

His argument: it was wrong of me to flirt with her to get free coffee and sandwiches because I was giving her false hope.

My argument: um, whatever. Nothing taste better than food except free food.

For goodness sakes, I wasn't asking the girl to marry me, I was saying hello and being nice, asking about her day, nothing major. He swore it was all in the way I was asking, as if I really cared, with sweet and sticky dripping from my words.

My position stayed firm. It's the same as when men flirt with women to get whatever it is they're trying to get on that particular day. Everyone has an agenda and unfortunately, we all use others to get there. It's no secret that attractive looks can get you far in this world, our culture falls heavily upon asthetics, so it should be surprising that people who look good get what they want a whole heck of a lot more than those who don't. Sometimes it's the pretty face alone, other times it's that paired with a little sweet and sticky flirting. I am not ashamed to do either. And I find nothing wrong with it. In fact, call me whatever you want, but I stand by using my femininity and good genes to get a couple inches further than the next. You gotta use what you got and I suggest you do too. If you're smart, go with that. If you know you have the gift of gab, can manipulate and form words in a way that make men and women melt? Work it out. I hate to say it but everyone has a price and if you slip a few bills their way-not real money, I sincerely hope you're with me on this analogy- then you can get in there just like the rest of us.

Besides when I check my bank statement and see just how much Starbucks is ripping me for? That lesbian better be happy I'm speaking to her. Free coffee for all.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

The Blame Game: A Woman Scorned

I'm pissed. No I'm really pissed off. Not nearly as pissed as YaVaughnie Wilkins, though, apparently. In the last week, the world has been shown just how far a woman will go when she is heartbroken, hurt, and angry. Three very very bad emotions to have simultaneously, for when put together, people often do foolish, silly, and dumb things. Actions that have not been fully thought out. Love turns to obsession and we usually wind up making fools of ourselves.

A woman scorned is a funny thing. We set out to retaliate, to get our due by making the object of our once affection pay and pay a lot. Is it smart? At the time, it seems like it. It seems like the very best and most important, immediate way of fixing our pain is to cause you as much as possible. There's a scene in Sex and The City where Samantha, scorned by Richard, passes out neon colored flyers, plasters the city in slander about her ex lover. The look on Samantha's face as she stands on a busy Manhattan street, flyers amidst, is of sheer pleasure. As if embarrassing Richard was the best thing since Lorraina Bobbett. And just like that, she was over him.

But back to reality, which is that once the billboards have gone up and come down, once the hoopla dies off and the shots are fired and dealt with, you are left empty and still alone. Hurting someone who loved you and you once loved is not the way to make the union come back to life. But perhaps that's not what YaVaughnie wanted. Who knows but YaVaughnie. It seems as such with the message on the billboard being, "You'll always be my soulmate." That coupled with the website dedicated to their love doesn't just scream "PLEASE COME BACK TO ME! I LOVE YOU!" but also that Wilkins may have fallen off the wagon a bit.

That said, I won't attack that woman. I won't call her silly or stupid. Yes, her actions are insane and wrong(and I mean actions going all the way back to dating a married man), but that woman is hurt and she's hurt for a very direct and exact reason. I think it's disgusting the way the media has turned her into a crazed, scorned lunatic. Not to mention the comments made on any social networking site out there. While what she's done lines up with crazy lunatic, she was pushed there by someone else and if people don't start bringing up the mistakes behind the actions of Charles Phillips himself, I'm gonna burst. Call it feminism or what you will, but it takes two to tango and Charles and YaVaughnie got to the billboard/website point together. Newsflash, Mr. Phillips, when you take vows, they still mean something to some people. Clearly not you. So here's the thing: when you decide you'd rather carry on a relationship-not a one nighter, not even a few months, but eight and a half YEARS- with someone other than the woman to whom you said, "I do," that makes you a coward and an asshole. Tell your wife you want to separate, get divorced, whatever, but causing all these people pain just so you could get some shows that you weren't thinking with you heart, or your head...or maybe just the wrong one. The truth hurts and it's hard to tell it sometimes, but I sincerely wish you'd resulted to just that.

When you're hurt, it feels like you're suffocating, like someone has stuck a knife in you and turned it clockwise and counter, but ladies, he isn't coming back and he for damn sure won't when you start wearing crazy like it's the new black. Eleanor Roosevelt said, "no one can make you feel inferior without consent." Yes, it sucks what happened, but your reaction is based solely on your own shoulders. Sure you want to retaliate, but I guarantee the best way is to pick up your proverbial shit, get it together, and move on. Nothing says fuck you to your haters like like success and happiness...without them.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins

Dodging Cupid's Arrow

We are only as loving as our last relationship and if it burned you, you will put on one of those heat-resistant blankets and head for the Santa Ana winded hills. A fellow blogger laid it all on the line the other night in a Dear Diary section where she discussed her harsh reality and outlook on relationships. How unfair it is.

Welcome to the club, darlin.

Our relationship history packs all of our issues from past unions and folds them nicely in a suitcase called baggage. When you're young, you love unabashedly, wrecklessly, without warrant or fear of heartbreak. Until that first heartbreak and then you're like, whoa. This hurts. A lot. But then someone else comes along and the black and blue heals from your heart just long enough for you to forget the previous pain and love hard once again. But of course, this happens a few times and what have you got? One bruised and beaten heart. Instead, you put up a nice sturdy wall to keep the punching bag untouched. You foray into these relationships where you don't give an inch, don't love fully, hold out and hold it in or worse, don't even care. For the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference and if you don't care, that's when there's a problem. Not caring, especially once you've realized this, is the worst feeling. It's just sad, unfortunate that the things from the past have affected your present and if you're not careful, will radically change your future. There is good news, though. If you simply hate the game for all it's done to you, you're still in good shape. Hate is better than not carring. There's still emotion, still some hope. I suspect the pendulum will swing back and we'll all have hearts for eyeballs again some day.

Love is a battlefield and we can't sit on the sidelines and watch, yes it's safe over there. We don't get beaten and bruised, but it's certainly the best way to ensure that we never get hit by cupid's arrow at all. For all our rough edges and burnt fingers, we still just want to love and be loved in return. Every girl has that skewed vision of a Prince riding in on a valiant steed and despite those who've shown exactly what a Prince is not, the dream still lives on, even if subconscious, it's flickering away like a candle left in the rain too long. So here's to letting go of the past, of not loving like you've never been hurt, but loving selectively, reserving it for those who are truly deserving-an invite only type of party. And if they leave the gig early, burning you once again, brush yourself off and try again.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins