Friday, February 26, 2010

He's Just Not That Into You...Or Is He?

Ladies, time and time again, we find ourselves in a situation of sorts. One where we're feeling a guy and based on a couple of things, he's feeling you too. Then we're slapped with the reality, they are just not that into us.

I've learned a lot from my guy friends along the way and after listening to this story, I knew I had to share to help my girls out there. A good guy friend, Rich, started seeing this girl, Adrienne. I know Adrienne pretty well, she's a friend who I hang out with from time to time and always have fun with her. We chat each other up online and sometimes talk on the phone, but make no mistake, she isn't a close friend. And between the two of them, Rich is my homie, Adrienne is not.

Rich was seeing Adrienne, giving her all the signals that he was into her, but his complaints were that Adrienne was crazy thirsty, majorly pressed, wouldn't back up and let things happen. A simple phone text to Adrienne and she was changing her BBM and g-chat statuses to topics dealing with him. All her tweets mentioned a mysterious "he" and constantly eluded to a new boyfriend on the horizon. This, of course, freaked Rich out. It would've freaked anyone out. Adrienne is the kind of clingy female that gives normal girls a bad name. At any rate, things progressed or should I say continued, and eventually, it got so annoying, Rich checked out, leaving Adrienne more or less heartbroken (based on her g-chat status picture of a broken heart).

But then Rich told me the details, and I had to pull him back. It wasn't just a case of Adrienne being a cling-on. Rich kept calling, kept sleeping with her, letting her stay with him when she'd come to hang out, and did enough to make Adrienne believe things were going great. Apparently, his pillow talk game was superseding, and after a few sweet conversations between the sheets, Adrienne was in like flynn. Or she thought she was. Rich, however, was just being a guy and keeping good p*ssy in his life without too many strings. Granted, Rich swore he liked her, said her attachment issues were what pushed him away, but Rich's actions were just so misleading. Case and point: he was supposedly done with her. Told her as much after she came in town and basically moved her stuff in, but then a few weeks later, he came to visit her, despite being "done." He came, stayed with her and when he realized she was still crazy, he tried to call it off again, went out, left all his stuff at her house without saying a word as to when or if he was coming back (he didn't).

The issue is that while he was "figuring it all out," he was putting off signals that he wanted Adrienne and that's really all Adrienne could go on, she's not a mind reader. Now, I could write an entire post about thirsty girls who need to calm the hell down, but not today. This is about reading a man's signals. About seeing all of them, not just the one's you want to see or hear. Rich told Adrienne several times over that she needed to back up a bit, that he wasn't looking for a girlfriend, but Adrienne seemed to give more weight to the pillow talk. Don't. believe. pillow. talk. I don't know how else to say it. Everyone talks a great game when they're lying in bed with you. Guys took a class in it and are well versed. I wish there was some way to tell you how to read men better, but all I can say is keep your guard up as long as possible, to really pay attention with an unbiased eye. To watch and learn. Pay attention to everything, not just what you want or hope or imagine in your head.

And when in doubt, ask your boys for some advice. They will always tell you when you're getting played.

That bitch stole my line,


Blackie Collins

Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Leggings Effect

I was walking from the gym, clad in sweats, hiding under a baseball cap like I was a Kardashian when a woman brushed by me in a pair of thin leggings. I noticed that she had a rear end that wars were probably fought over, something I noticed since I have one that won't even cause a schoolyard fight let alone a world war. I wasn't the only one who noticed, though. The way the masses parted while men crained necks, rolled eyes and all but passed out as she walked by was incredible. Hysterical actually.

One of my best friends has the best ass I've ever seen. She works out constantly to have the derrière. It's the kind of booty that would make anyone do a couple extra lunges or take the stairs. Several weeks ago, we went to a friends party and this girl had thee nerve to wear denim leggings. She swore they were jeans, but they weren't. And boy or boy. I'm straight and I wouldve tapped that ass. I wasn't the only one who was enthralled either.

And finally, this past weekend my boy and I were about to head out for a night in the streets. I was getting dressed and when I asked if the outfit was cool, he said, "I'm always a fan of leggings." Yup, I had on a pair shiny leggings that give even little-booty me a looker.

Leggings are a great, simple fashion trend, one that isn't in style just because of their comfort and cute-match-everything factor. They're definitely flying off shelves and stomping down the streets of NYC because of the effects leggings have on men and women love it. What it boils down to is the fact that men are, for the zillionth time, very simple creatures. All they need are a basic pair of leggings to help them on their way.

Much obliged, boys, much obliged.

That bitch stole my line,

Blackie Collins

Wednesday, February 24, 2010


Utah is a weird place as is, but now they've gone one step further off the polygamist reservation. Women in Utah are just a governor's signature away from a bill that's already been passed by state officials and will ban illegal abortion and "intentional" miscarriages. The punishment for said crimes? A possibility of life behind bars.

*Puts away coat hanger and rethinks at home abortion*

I mean, what?! What exactly is going on here? Statements on how this bill proves just how much Utah cares about women is one that could only come from the same idiots who will probably decide whether a female's miscarriage was intentional or not: men. Men who've never handed over their bodies to another living being, never been raped or had an unwanted, unplanned pregnancy. This is when men seem so stupid. I get what they're attempting, to lower the cases of women tossing themselves down the stairs to get rid of a "problem," but it's just ridiculous. Gone are the days of back alley abortions, so passing this law means virtually nothing. Women can still head to their nearest planned parenthood and get er done regardless of Utah's bill.

What it comes down to is yet another tactic to control women and their bodies. What if Utah passed a law stating that men had to have mandatory vasectomies to prevent unwanted pregnancies or dial back the number of babies born or something. Exactly. Wouldn't even happen. They are just as much involved as the preggers woman is. Last I checked, it still takes two.
Plus, she'll need his helping hand to give her a good push down the stairs right?

This reeks like a bloody tampon. Utah, you've got 'splaining to do!

That bitch stole my line,

Blackie Collins

Monday, February 22, 2010

Why I Love Boys

So, we had a blast on Friday with our male-bashing day. Some of you got in on the fun in the comments section, some decided to email their thoughts which was funny too (which I could share, but I think that was the point of the private email instead of a public post). But make no mistake. I love boys. They're ridiculous, but far too much fun to shove off completely. So today, let go and let the love flow.

Why I Love Boys (brought you by the letter W)

They're fun as hell. No need for pretense, this is what it is. They're a ball to hang out with. Crack open a beer, turn on the game, let the good times roll. This is the precise reason I love my guy friends. I always have the most fun with them. This is also why I like having a boy in my life. I love when they're my best friend too. Having fun together is the best.

They're strong. Their strength goes a long way. They can unscrew the lid on the spaghetti sauce, they can help you move furniture or they can lift you without any problems.

They're gorgeous. Ok, not all of them, but have you ever just looked at a man's body? I dated a guy who played in the NFL once. He was in crazy shape, probably had -5% body fat or something. Every time he took his shirt off (or didn't honestly), it was an absolute cause for pause. It was just beautiful. I don't even want to lose sight of that. I don't care how many dudes are dogs, I gotta have that in my life.

When they're yours, they're yours. Men are extremely loyal creatures. It may take them a lot to get there, but once they're in, they're like a rock, unmoving and undaunted. They will support you, fight for you, tear it down for you. When a man is in that place, it's pretty awesome. Unless they become clingy. yikes.

They help your alcohol tolerance. When you drink with boys, you never get wasted with the girls.

There's no sugar coating. One of the things I love most about a few of my female friends is their ability to just put it out there. No, cushion, no chaser. This is just what it is. I love this about them because it's rare amongst women. It's reserved for men. You present them with a problem, they give you a solution. You say, "that chick went and bought the same dress as me even though she knew I had it. She better not wear it to the party on Friday." He'll say, "So, what." Well, actually. Yea. So. What. Done and done.

They have tattoos. Well, not all of them, but the ones who do. Praise all that is holy.

They give great...advice. This kinda lines up with the no sugar-coating thing, but men are extremely simple creatures. Because of this, they often give great advice. They can see the forest through the trees way better than women can most times. And not only do they give great advice, but they follow their own. Lots of us gals dish it out, but can't seem to eat it ourselves.

They like to eat girls. Do I have to really write anything to further explain?

That bitch stole my line,


Blackie Collins

Friday, February 19, 2010

Dudes Are Trash

I got hit with a message this morning from one of my homegirls. The message was simple: guys are trash. Well, unfortunately, they are at at times and those times are usually days that end in the letter "Y." So I decided to have a male bashing day-just for today, ladies, after this build a bridge.

Why dudes are trash, brought to you by the letter 'L':

They lie. I have no idea why, but lying always seems like the best option for men. They assume it's because women can't handle the truth (cue Jack Nicholson), but that's not true. We may not like what your truth telling brings, but remember when you were taught (at like the age of ten) that every action has a reaction? Well, just because you tell the truth and we don't like it, doesn't mean we don't like the truth, we just don't like what the fuck you told us.

They sell the dream. As many of my guy friends say, "you just sell her the dream to get what you want." So sad, and so true. More like a nightmare.

They gossip. Men talk more than girls do. Seriously. I have enough guy friends and I've sat and listened to them gossip like a group of chicks at a nail salon. I crack up.

They have no idea what they want. Because of this, you get caught up in their confusion. While they're trying to figure out if they want you or not, they string you along, doing things that make you believe there's some sort of semblance of a relationship. Then they "suddenly" realize what they want and it isn't you.

They are sensitive. Seriously, the sun rises and sets out of their ass and whenever they aren't getting their own way, a fit is sure to follow. Men seem to have times of the month as well and they take full advantage of them, causing you nothing but headache and irritation.

They are foul. They get at your friends without thinking it's any kind of problem. Come on, dude. All the women in the world and you gotta try to sleep with my friends?

They boast and brag. Then come up extremely short.

They are insecure. They go out of their way to hurt you first, so you don't hurt them. Running for the hills, emotionally unavailable (which I don't recall asking for you to be emotionally OD either).

They forget how they'd want some man to treat their sisters or mothers. Forgetting this little factoid is major because they dog some other girl who isn't their sister or mother, but is a woman nonetheless. As my girl said the other day: men can be divided into two categories-the ones who respect women and the ones who don't.

Feel free to add your own. But remember, this is just for today. I don't do well with bashing boys, they're kinda fun too.

Happy Friday!!

That bitch stole my line,


Blackie Collins

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

It Don't Matter If You're Black or White...

**Author's note: This is one side of an argument that has so many sides and tangents, it could take many a beer summit to figure out. This is just one side and it may or may not be entirely mine. Enjoy**

This weekend, I got a phone call and yet another friend from high school is engaged. I say yet another because pretty much all of my high school friends are set to walk down the aisle or already have. Some are even pregnant or have toddlers running around their McMansions in our same suburb we grew up. I hung up the phone with him, yes, him, and trekked over to my facebook page. I needed an actual count of how many had actually jumped the broom or were on the way over it. But then I realized something. There'd be no broom jumping. All my high school friends are white. They're the ones getting married. Not my black friends.

Now before you start commenting that your black friends are getting married too, let me stop you and say that I'm aware they're getting married as well. I have friends and family that are yanking their brooms out. This is just my observation based on much of society and my black and white friends.

See, somewhere along the line, whites are taught to settle down. Taught that these twenties are about finding a wife, getting a career off the ground, so that your thirties are about the suburbs and raising kids. The girls go to college and come home with boyfriends who become fiancees, they plan weddings at the age of twenty-four and any friends who are almost thirty and unwed are considered spinsters. But switch lanes to the black community and the numbers are enough to make you want to play for the other team (not chicks, other races). In our community, men are taught to run rampant, have a blast, get it in with as many as they can, get so many notches on their bedpost that it looks like Kunta's back in Roots (bad joke, I know). Somewhere along their matriculating line, black men are taught that marriage is what they do, finally, when all the fun stuff is done. They are taught to man whore like crazy and then finally "settle" when their good and "ready" (or maybe even not, hence cheating and divorce). It seems finding your career and getting married for white men lines up, coincides, but with black men, it's all about getting theirs before caring about anyone else. It happens eventually, I suppose, but men used to be ready at 25. Now, it's more like 35 and that's just because they need to pump out some kids. Nobody plans on sixty with a three year old at home.

I don't get it. Or maybe I do a little bit. While white people have been given a slightly easier road historically, and I say that with all the sarcasm I can muster, they have nothing to fear, nothing to want generally and are taught that they can have it all. People of minority descent have been on a bumpy ride since the boat ride over here and consequently have to fight to be free on a regular basis (from society and themselves). So maybe that has something to do with it. They don't want to be held down. They want to experience a life that eludes them. The sparkly, shiny one that was promised on the journey over or when Abe said we were free. So they do what they want, plant their seed so they can leave a life line, but not a legacy or something that matters. My generation isn't totally to blame though. The example isn't set. The black family is a flailing one. The white family has been intact since 1802 and has been perpetuated through Leave It To Beaver and Family Ties. It's all they know generally speaking. On our side of the fence, families are comprised of single-parent households and grandmothers raising black men who will never see what it means to be a married father taking care of his family. The only way to get black family examples is to be black family examples and well, there just aren't enough. There are a few black examples in the ever present media, don't get me wrong. There are some that are NOT the Huxtables. What about the Winslows?, help?

I have an astounding amount of respect for black marriage-because it's kinda like Haley's Comet. Something big and exciting that is so rare, you have to hold onto it cause who knows when you'll see it again. And while I haven't dated a white guy in forever, and laughed at my friend who was saying he was heading for the slopes, I might join him. Not because I want to get married, but based on this crazy argument I'm having on this blog, I should have jumped ship long ago.

to be continued, I'm sure...


Friday, February 12, 2010

The Bad, The Bad, and the Bad

I am constantly asked a certain question-by men and women alike: what constitutes being good in bed?

Being that I'm not a damn expert, although quite jolly good fun, there a few key points that make you good. My number one is inhibition-don't have any, just have fun, feel the moment, the energy. And no, sometimes the energy doesn't call for you lying on your back like a corpse. But, I digress.

The other day my friend cracked me up with a story of her last sexual encounter and how she barely remembered it (bad sign), but what she DID remember was a riot. I decided to write not on what makes you good, but what makes you the butt of jokes bad.

Yawning or other forms of indifference. OK, this is pretty obvious. If she or he is yawning, snoozing, filing their nails or solving mathematical equations, you aren't doing it right.

Dead weight. I already said this, but lying there lifeless is no fun for anyone. If you're doing that, you might as well just go to sleep rather than pretend you're doing anything for anyone. I'll tell you what he's doing as he pumps away above you: closing his eyes and thinking of someone or something else so he can cum and be done with your dumb ass. But dudes, you're not off the hook. Make her wake the hell up. Do your job.

Television. If you're riding him cowgirl and you think you're really doing work. Hell, you feel like you're on that mechanical bull at Johnny Utah's, but you look down and he's peering around you. You look at where his focus lies and it's the television. Sportscenter is on and he's trying to catch the highlights. Girl, you aren't doing it right.

Hurry Up. Or the reverse, you're going in and you think to yourself, "she's gotta be loving this. I'm giving her my A game." Now, she's not making any noise whatsoever and when she finally speaks she says, "are you done? Can you just hurry, I'm tired." I'm giggling as I write this, that's kinda funny, but yea, it's not going so well.

Bunny Boy. Not only does size matter, but so does time frame and the manner in which you take care of business. Rabbit sex has never been in, it isn't cute and when you get 4 quick strokes and you're done, yea, we're gonna talk about you...and bad.

Flat Lining. I understand that there are man issues and sometimes your member doesn't want to cooperate, but not being able to get it up is a really really really bad thing. Really.

Add your own by all means. That was fun and I'm even more thankful for my good sex.

That bitch stole my line,


Blackie Collins

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Welcome to the Single Life

Here's the thing about being single: it kinda rocks. I know, I know Valentines Day is coming and it's winter, so everyone loves being all cozied up under their human Snuggie, but if you think about it, being single can be just as fun as being paired up-if you do it right.

I just became completely, no strings-nowhere single. All ties have been cut, I've even deleted my fall back boy from the roster and while I know I'll get bored and will definitely miss romping in the sheets (jump off is out too), I'm also like for real psyched for some reason. Actually for a few reasons:

No more drama. As lovely as relationships and dating are, there's a certain amount of theatrics involved. The molding of two personalities is bound to cause a few uphill battles, but I'm talking the ridiculous, overdramatic stuff. I was overhearing a girl at my job talking about some text messages to her boyfriend from some girl and how she was going to confront the girl (she knows her), and "kick a bitch if she has to." Yea, I don't need that. Cue Mary J, "no more drama in my life!"

Project You. When you're dealing with other people, you often forget to take care of you. Women especially link up and immediately start puting him and his needs first, their own last. Now, you can start that journal, make that vision board, start running, take that cooking class or hell, just lay around and do what YOU want to do for a change. No one to tell you you're being lazy or compromise your time with. No one to make you see movies you don't want to see or hog your remote.

Your girls. There is nothing like girlfriends, so enjoy some much needed social butterflydom with them. Drinks, book clubs, dinner, events or just park yourselves on the sofa with a marathon of Sex in the City and red wine. Especially if you're one of those girls who forgets to nurture her friendships while in a couple. Remember every relationship counts-even the ones NOT with men.

DVR. When all else fails, there's some great television on these days. And if you're out and about a lot like me, your DVR is around 92% full too. The good thing about tv is it's a way healthier distraction than drinking, boys, and whatever other coping mechanism you've gotten yourself into for lack of a better man. Must see tv is still in full effect, so grab the remote.

Look, I know you'll miss him, find yourself frustrated because he isn't around and you're a bit lonely, but know that love is what you make it and with whom you do so. Fake it til you make it, love yourself for a while and I promise you'll see just how great the most important relationship you'll ever have truly is.

The one with yourself.

That bitch stole my line,


Blackie Collins

Monday, February 8, 2010

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,


Blackie Collins

Friday, February 5, 2010

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

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,

Blackie Collins

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

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,


Blackie Collins

Monday, February 1, 2010

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?



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:)