Recycling A Can Of Worms

Yes, I'mma bout to Ike Turner this dead horse.

So, yesterday my homeskillet, Max posted a blog post entitled, “Reopening A Can of Worms (Still cant have sex whenever we want)“, which was a follow-up to her post, “No, We Actually Can’t Have Sex Any Time We Want.” The latter (listed) of which erupted into one of the most epic blogville arguments known to man (and some degrees of it carried over to gchat, but we ain’t gon’ talk about that right nah*).

If you haven’t already, reading both of those is a homework assignment before continuing any further so you come well-equipped and ish, but the gist of Max’s thesis is that “women cannot have sex whenever they want/it’s not truly easy for women to get sex.” And I agreed with her.

I actively participated in both debates, and since I have a problem not sitting right with not getting everything I wanted to get out… out, I decided to vomit my words all over my space. Because ya know, any other way would mean writing a blog post in the comments section OF ANOTHER BLOG which we all (if “all” meant “everyone except for a few crazy niccas”) know is against blog etiquette.

Anyhow, while watching the debate continue, a few points stuck out to me. And by “stuck out to me”, I mean, “confuddled me greatly to the point where I thought the high blood pressure that run in my family would be fully realized within me in that moment.”

I’m gonna note the commonalities that I noticed amongst the men’s arguments and speak my piece on each. Cool? Ice cold.

1. “Her Experiment of Just Sampling 5 Men Is Faulty.” Ya know, I found it funny how a lot of men used this to mean, by default, that they were right. Except not. Let’s say it WAS faulty… that just means the experiment was inconclusive, it doesn’t then mean that obtaining sex IS easy for women. I also find it funny (hilarious, even) that if she conducted this exact same experiment but ended up getting her back blown out thusly, these exact same results would’ve “proved” the men’s claims right. Jigga how?

2. “She Should’ve Added A Qualifier Like ‘Quality Men’ or ‘Only Men I Want’.” Chile, bye. You know who you sound like? Those very “When you dog women you should ONLY say, ‘SOME women’, otherwise we think you’re talmbout all of us!” type chicks ya’ll claim to be annoyed by. And this is a (kosher) beef I have with the internets, in general. Thing is, in order to keeps us sane, generalities are needed. If we had to add a qualifier and specificity to each and every thing we wax generic about, each and every blog post would have a 50-lem trillion word count and take 31 days for the page to load. Thing is, when we write using generalities, we usually hope (pray, even) that our readers are able to put 2 and 2 together and know that there are always exceptions.

Yes, women would rather have sex with someone they want. Who doesn’t? Who complains about something not being available that they don’t care for? No one that’s who. Even men who say that they can’t text a chick asking for sex without getting slapped figuratively/literally (more on that later) are texting for sex they want, no? So yeah, please assume that women mean the sex that they want. Which, there’s nothing wrong with. If we include “any and every sex available on the planet” then it’s easy for everyone, ain’t it?

3. “It’s Easier For Ya’ll Than For Men, Doe!” I’m not even gonna get on the fact that she never claimed this in her original premise, but c’est la vie and whatnot. Let’s entertain this thought, doe. First off, easy is relative. If — in one breath — you admit (hell, even try to strengthen your argument) with the fact that women have different checklists on whether they’ll sleep with a nicca than men do, then you can’t — in the same breath — measure how “easy” it is for women in relation to how easy it is for men, ya dig? You noting that we have different morals in terms of sex presupposes that our “easiness” then can’t be measured on the same scale. If you know dayum well that women are more choosey in who they decide to share their loins with (and berate them when they’re not so choosey at all…), wouldn’t you at least hesitantly admit that this makes it a tad bit difficult for chicks? Given the chances alone? Doesn’t matter that it’s not easier for you, it’s not easy for her. It not being easier for you doesn’t make it easy for her, by default. And I do have to add that screaming about how bad women react to your advances means nothing but the fact that we’re more dramatic in how we say “no.” A “no” is a “no” is a gottdayum, “no.” Acting like you so “busy” when a girl hits you up to pet her kitty, is a way of saying, “no” as well. Check your Thesaurus, it’s in there.

*checks blood pressure* … *sees it’s still on the up-and-up… oh wait, wrong phrase… sees it’s normal* Rejoice!

So, yeah, Pinchers, had to get that out. See why I couldn’t have that all up in Maxie’s blog? Anyway, what do ya’ll think about this severely dead horse? Is it an infamous semantics debate? Am I full of it? Eh, it’s probably just gas. Hug me anyway.

Love ya like hippies love to occupy Wall Street,

Cheekie

*Or ever. What happens in gchat stays in gchat.

Sir. You’re Too Sexy For Your Shirt.

 

This didn't make the list. At all.

You know what I love (that isnt rice, ice cream, Disney or Pixar)?

Men.

You Y-chromosome havin’ mofos are kinda my weakness. Shhh, don’t tell nobody. Hell, don’t tell yourselves or you’ll be forced to use it against me.

Ah, the Male species. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Well, I’m not gonna count the ways actually, just list them. Leggo:

– That’s Just My Baby Daddy. Wait, No It Ain’t. Still Hot, Doe. Man, listen. Men with kids is some sexy chocolate ice cream waterfalls ish. There’s something about men interacting with children that makes my nether-regions be all, “Your wish is my command!” And it don’t even have to be a father with his child. Just seeing a guy naturally blend with the kiddies is some sexified ish. The images of a guy carrying his grinning daughter on his shoulders, a guy tossing his tickled son into the air, or a guy standing in front of his classroom of ankle-biters is just… *faints on top of the next thing on the list*

– Can We Talk For a Minute? Boy, I want to… well, hear your voice. I’m a sucker for a nice man voice. The deep timbre, the subtle mischievous lilt, everything about Idris Elba’s voice… all’at. And I adore the husky undertones of a guy’s voice when he first wakes up. That is probably one of the manliest things a guy can do without even trying. And if you use that voice to whisper into my ear? Dude…

– You Don’t Smell Like Teen Spirit. I’ve mentioned my weakness for great cologne game before. And to quote what I told Max in my “Any 10 On Tuesday”, “Hell, you could be Gollum’s nephew and you can make me double-take with some great cologne. Of course, I’d double-take the fuck back to where I was looking before once I saw your mug, but at least you made me look.” That basically sums up how powerful it is. A conservative (emphasis necessary for you Steve-Harvey-suit-wearing-ninjas) amount of cologne definitely upgrades ya on the sex-o-meter by default, in my book.

– Walk This Way. Forgive me Father for I have sinned, but I’mma use this word: swagger. Yup, that’s what makes a great man walk. A man with a dope walk makes me want to get to know him better. I love the easygoing-ness and chill way a man that is sure of himself walks down the street. And no discrimination, but my melanin-brethren have this down pat. Makes me wanna do the come-hither finger-motion. Get yo fahn self over heah…

– Touch Me, Tease Me. I don’t wanna get into every single way a guy touches me that gets me randy because this post will have a 39,758,269* word count. So allow me to specify the one that I think I love the most: touching me on the small of my back. *Leiomy-drops upwards at the very thought* Join me and let’s get inside our minds for a minute. Imagine walking into some generic spot like… the restaurant. As you enter the door, his hand randomly meets the small of your back while he guides you in front of him. Ladies, I’m not just getting shivers up my spine, my spine is actually shivering. Woo, chile.

– Put A Smile On Your Face. I love smiles. I love laughs. Basically, I love happy people. Yeah. YEAH. Yeah. Yeah. But, there’s something to be said about a guy’s smile. Well, when he has a great one. Sorry, Busey. And like the voice, I love a mischievous smile. A sly smile. One that slowly forms from the outermost corners and then breaks out into a full one. This one is usually paired with bedroom eyes or eye-boning, hence the sexiness. And on the laugh tip, I adore a jokester. Just the simple act of being naturally funny is super sexy. Throw a well-timed joke in conversation and I’ll be feeling extra loving after I’ve calmed down from the giggle-fit.

– Just Be A Man About It. Excuse me while I hop in my DeLorean and set women back a few years and say: I love when a man takes control. Well, actually lemme expound. Ok, so, I’m not really a bossy person in general so that’s a part of Leo-ness that I’m not in tune with. However, where I DO identify with my fellow felines is that it’s mighty hard to control me. Like, I automatically reject things not done my way unless you’re well… special. So, I find it extra hot when that guy tells me about myself or demands that I do something. Takes me aback in a good way. But, with anything, too much of it can be a turn-off, of course. Don’t get it Twizzlers-twisted, I’m still on my Janet Jackson control over here.

Pinchers, time to share what you find sexy in the opposite sex. What about men, women, or “other” gets that blood pumping?

 

Love ya like Derwin Davis loves to seduce me (via Tee-Vee) with his boxer briefs,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*I did a real-life calculation to arrive at this number, by the way. o_______O

Venus: The (Sexy) Planet From The Sun

 

-_-

You may have heard this through the grapevine, but if you haven’t, do I have some news for you! On some “extra, extra, read all about it” ish.

Men and women are different.

*any and all internet servers crash due to the epic shock and awe from this exclusive news*

It’s true! I was reminded of this fact when I was on Twitter recently. I was responding to my TONS of @-replies and request for follows when I arbitrarily came across a tweetversation*, and…

WOW, I’m lying.

I was just browsing my reglah timeline and I decided to twitter-creep on a seemingly interesting conversation about a recent post of Max’s. Basically, @MrSpradley, @BrazenlyVirile, @starita34, and @lalabakir were discussing one male commenter complimenting another male commenter. And, of course, sometime during the convo, the words “no homo” were uttered… er… typed.

This all brought me back to how I’ve always been intrigued with the uncomfy-ness men experience when they compliment other men. Like, they HAVE to add a “no homo” (or similar disclaimer) or risk being labeled gay (percentage carefully measured and provided by these scientific/karate experts).

Now, I’m not going to go into the deeper (and more serious) reasons behind this. I’ve actually decided to go in a different direction when it comes to figuring this phenomenon out.

Now, this is where women come in. Yay boobs! As you know, this particular aspect of humanity is quite different when it comes to woman-to-woman relations. We can call a chick “pretty, beautiful, sexy, hot, gorgeous, insert-other-color-description-here” and society wouldn’t even bat its proverbial eyelash.

And the reason I believe this is because society views women as sexual beings in general. Whichever perspective the view comes from doesn’t matter. There is never (or rarely) a moment where a woman’s body (and the way its shaped) is not being viewed in a sexual light. When it comes to sex as an image, the female form is sex and sex is the female form. I’m not so sure I can say the same with men… at least not in as many cases.

Let’s get this crystal clear right now. As a huge fan of men in the sexual sense, I’m not EVEN gonna say that the male form is NOT sexy. Because that would be a lie. Sort of like what I did up there, earlier in the post. I mean, come on, there’s nothing like a good Calvin Klein ad, to name just one example. However, one interesting factor is that a male’s nudity is often used for comedic purposes. Such as the “trying-to-be-funny-but-not-so-funny-and-actually-awkward-male-full-frontal-scene-from-the-actually-funny-movie”, Forgetting Sarah Marshall. There are several other examples of this since it’s basically a running gag. Can’t really say that for full frontal women shots, though. I mean, even if it IS played up for comedy, there are still sexual undertones. I’m pretty sure of that.

And in the same vein, when it comes to censorship, a woman’s body is most definitely thought of as more sexual in nature. I mean, obviously, we have more “parts” to censor. It’s just funny considering the one set of parts that we have alike, nipples, is the one that’s censored only for us. Sure, we have boobs attached to ours, but they never cover the actual boobs do they?

Just an interesting thought…

And while I’m thinking, I’m gonna share some of that thinking with ya’ll! Pinchers, do you think there’s anything to my theory? I mean, aside from the “male-centered homophobia” often (and validly) attributed to the whole “no homo” thing, do you think the above could also factor into why it’s more accepted for either sex to view women in a sexual light, but wholly frowned upon when it’s male-on-male? Oh, and offer up your own insights and theories while ya at it.

SHAMONE. Speak.

 

Love ya like Malik loves skrippahs,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*This is some random Twitter hybrid of “tweeting” and “conversation” that I feel as if I’ve made up because it just popped into my head, but I’m sure it’s already been created before. Like when you have this great and unique idea, and little do you know, some mofo way across the globe also has the same idea. Don’t you hate when that happens? Yeah, it’s called “screenwriting.”

Somethin’ For Side-Eyes: Let It Marinate

 

His last name is “Johnson”, and he’s getting soaked. What I did there… you see it?

Sometimes you come across a story in the media and the only thing you can muster at the time is:

o_O

Yeah, that’s kinda how I felt when the homie, Keisha Brown decided to share this. <<~~ That is probably not so safe for work.

After a little bit of shock, awe, confuddlement, and questions from the title alone, I decided to read up a little bit more on it. The article discusses the art of “dick-soaking”, which has apparently been practiced within the Mormon faith for quite some time. Hit up the Urban Dictionary definition (#2) here.

Basically, this practice is about men being able to marinate their man-parts on some dick Lawry’s ish so that they can feel the bliss that is the cooch-hug, without actually getting to the happy ending.

This all brings up a couple of points:

– Loosely Defined. Of course, the modernization of many societal aspects (such as technology or media) includes sex in some form. I mean, it makes sense that the main thing that drives our choices (other than money) would be altered in a way to match the changing world we live in. Mormonism, at its purest, is a very strict practice and yet the many young folks that are born into it are expected to adapt to it, despite the fact that the world today is leaning toward… well… not-so-strict. This paradox leads the younger generation toward changing the definition of what constitutes as sex so that they can feel better about possibly going against their strong morals. And the strong morals bring me to…

– Holier Than Thou? Not So Much. Lemme get this 180 degrees straight from the jump. I’m not one to look down on anyone’s faith just because it doesn’t mirror mine. Hell, the way I see it, we have one main thing in common: We have faith. What I cannot stand is the hypocrisy laced within being holier-than-thou.* I mean, being involved in this peen-soaking method pretty much excludes you from standing on a high moral pedestal, in my honest opinion. And this is not to say that everyone who practices this religion (or any other one that doesn’t condone pre-marital sex) are holier-than-thou, because that’s obviously not true. My point is that if do you feel that you can be holier than thou and still partake in this… well, you can’t. I mean, at one point, any penetration meant sex, now it’s only if there’s geyser explosion involved?  So, I guess that means that the TONS of women who believe they haven’t yet experienced an orgasm during penetrated sex are still virgins? Oh.

Ah well, lemme digress ASAPtually. Pinchers, the (heated) floor is yours. What say you? Speak (er… type) on it.

 

Love ya like Ochocinco loves to believe his last name means “eighty-five”… except it doesn’t,

Cheekie

 

P.S. Yeah, so a former Mormon says this entire practice is falseness, but then a commenter on this post says that it is true and has been for years. Whoever to believe, I think the above post is still relevant even if ONE person is doing it…

 

 

 

*This is not dissimilar to Huckabee lambasting Natalie Portman for getting married outta wedlock and “parading” it around, even though no one remembers any similar statements when Bristol Palin, Sarah Palin & Co did the same thing, arguably at a higher rate. Funny, since the main difference between the two girls is that one is GROWN and the other one was a minor. Huh. I mean, if you’re gonna judge, judge all the way around, not only for folks that share your agenda. And for the record, I don’t see anything “wrong” with either case.

Tight.

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: Today is a good day. At ten minutes after ten o’clock in the morning, twenty-six years ago, Mama Cheekie produced the most pinchable cheeks this side of the universe. *As everyone leyomi-drops in celebration simultaneously* I’ve wanted to write the following post for a good while now, but I’m more than sure that today is the day. A perfect day. Happy birfday to me. *hugs self* I will be eagerly awaiting my Chanel purse in the mail from one (or a conglomerate) of my pinchers by the way. o_O Yeah, I’ll be a waiting heffa. Anyhow, let’s get on with this…

Hey.

I wanna cut to the chase, but allow me to activate my Borat voice:

*Borat Voice*

I’m a virgine. “A virgin”, in American.

Many of you may be aware of this already as I’ve talked about it throughout the e-land, but for the sake of drama (I’m a Leo, so I loves it), please re-enact the above animated picture at your computer screen. I’ll wait.

…

Ok.

So, I know I’m amongst the rarest of rare these days. A unicorn, if you will. What makes me even rarer is that the reason I’ve chosen to remain one up to this point has nothing to do with religion. Please don’t get me wrong, I do believe in God…I just don’t subscribe to any particular religious organization. Picture me checking “spiritual” when filling out forms/surveys. Hey! I see you picturing me and checking out my booty as I fill out the form. Uncouth self.

Anyhow.

My reason is simple: I’m waiting for love. Not necessarily marriage (Call me “open” other possibilities…well, not in that way yet, but…you know what I mean), just love. I’ve never been in it before. I may explore in the future why that is (I have my non-professional, non-Freudian theories) on this blog, but the fact is, I haven’t experience it yet. Never been in love. I am not so naive to expect a fantasy. Meaning, the perfect guy. I know that doesn’t exist. But like any other girl… like any other woman who makes this decision, I’ll just know. And, sure, that phrase is as cliché as the rich girl falling for the scrappy guy from the wrong side of the tracks who happens to look like he jumped out of a Calvin Klein ad, but it’s truth. It’s not something I can exactly pinpoint. Not something that makes me say, “If so and so happens this particular way, I’ll do it.” I’ll just know.

For those of you playing at home, I’m human. I know I’ve just disappointed roughly 3 people who thought I was a spam robot. Sorry, flesh and bones up in this piece. Due to being human, I often get sexually frustrated. We all have our moments of weakness. I just believe that the way in which you respond and act to these moments define who you are. Now, I’m not saying that one decision is right and the other is wrong in the general sense, I just know what’s right and/or wrong for me. Which may be different for you. Or her. Or him. Or whatever Lady Gaga is. Which brings me to my next point…

The reactions I get to my admission are interesting in one way and hilarious in another. Most of the time I get reactions similar to, “Wow, that’s great! *applause*” Aw, thanks. *curtsies* But, on the serious tip, I don’t expect accolades. As I said above, I’m doing what’s right for me. I believe folks that congratulate me are doing so out of reflection of their own personal experiences and I get that. Valid. I just want to make clear that I’m not expecting a Tightness Parade or anything like that for keeping a nickel in between my legs. Another reaction I often get (and this is more so on the internets) is, “Wow, you don’t seem like a virgin!” That one tickles me. I think The Champ said it best, when I revealed to the VSB e-fam of my virginity, (and I’m paraphrasing here) “LOL, ya’ll act like virgins don’t have a personality or something.” Ha!

I think part of the surprise has to do with my — for lack of any actual word — “open-mindness” about sex. I may not be having it yet, but best believe I’m no prude. In fact, I have a pretty healthy relationship with sex, as a topic. I’m open to talking about it without blushing, I have no pre-conceived notions about those who have it all willy-nilly, and I just believe it to be an overall great thing. To discuss and to have. Safely, of course. Yes, all of this is true, even though I’ve never experienced it with another warm body. Of course, you may be assuming that I have quite the sexual relationship with myself. Yeah, you’d assume correctly. You know the term “I’m feeling myself?” Yeah, I’m an expert at it in the literal sense. Told ya’ll I’m human.

On another note, I wonder sometimes if folks in the e-world (who haven’t seen me) think I look like Predator’s fifth cousin twice removed or something. Hell, even if I did…that has nothing to do with the price of tea at Starbucks in a bougie neighborhood. If Flava Flav (admittedly worse looking than anyone in Predator’s family) can get play, anyone can get play. Trust, I have my options. I’ve had to turn down several. And there’s the point. I’ve chosen. I have a choice in this. A choice that — when I make it in favor of “make like Nike and just do it” — becomes one I won’t regret.

As for the four other people in the world who are still virgins, I tell you this: Do you. In every sense of the phrase. Up to this point, you have experienced frustration, peer pressure, moments of weakness…all’at. And you still haven’t caved to any of it. That’s good for you. And I mean, that…for you. When your time comes it’ll be the right time for you. I’m of the firm belief that everything happens just the way it’s supposed to. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have happened. There are no coincidences, no mistakes. Every choice we make to do something or not do something has shaped us into who we are today. And there’s no mistake in that. Sure, we have regrets about choices we’ve made. Or didn’t make (a choice in and of itself, I’m guessing). But, we all have to step back and remember that every experience is a learning one. It’s one that shapes and molds us into who we are…and who we are yet to become.

So, I wrap this up like a condom to say this is for you, superstah11, who sent me an email telling me how I, unbeknownst to me at the time, inspired you (and making my day). This is for you, teen girl at high school that feels in 2010 (where sex roams freer than a marketing sample), she is the only one. This is for you, young man that is battling his hormones as well as the very idea that all men lose their virginity by the time they’re legal. This is for you, my pinchers.

This is for me.

Love ya like the internet loves to be the home of free porn,

Cheekie