I Don't Kiss
Word to Jigga, I write some thought-provoking shyt, quote some Baldwin, y'all question whether he fallin' off. Well, this episode, I got the ignorant shyt you like...
Two of the things we're most dishonest about in this country are race and sex. We talk around both, but rarely about either in meaningful ways. We all know about the bizarre and depressing niche of interracial cuckold porn; we all know about the portrayal of black men in porn as bestial savages (to the point that they actually grunt, pound their chests, and make over the top animal noises); we all know that there are plenty of sites and videos in which white dudes with regular-sized dikks have sex with women, but rarely will you find a porn in which a black man has anything but a Megashark vs. Godzilla dang-a-lang. We know who the main consumers of porn are - that information is common sense but even if you're not sure there's plenty of data to edify you. When we watch porn we are getting a very disturbing look into the depths of the white male psyche. White women are degraded to the point of inhuman humiliation; black men are as close to literal big-dikked monsters as they can get; white men are simultaneously in command of their white women, terrified of nikkas, and excited to watch beastly big-dikked blacks violently obliterate white women's coochies - sometimes eagerly sampling the resultant creampie.
I am speaking in general terms, of course. Not all white men enjoy this sort of thing, just as not all white women are desperate for black dikk, and not every black man lusts after white women, and not every interracial relationship has its roots in depravity and taboo. Still, it's impossible to ignore what and who the bulk of porn is appealing to. Now, do I think @
I.V. is sitting back watching porn praying to watch a white tramp get mandingo'd into oblivion? Do I think @
I.V. is at home telling his girlfriend that she better not ever look in a black man's direction? Of course not. Well, maybe (
). Nah, but seriously, this is general, and certainly not true of everyone or every dynamic within a relationship.
Race makes motherfukkers crazy. Can we agree on that?
Sex makes motherfukkers crazy, Can we agree on that too? Let me share with you some of that sort of craziness I've personally experienced...
I remember when I transferred to a different, smaller school the dynamic I referenced in the last episode wasn't as intense, but it was still present. The athletics weren't Division 1, but there was still plenty of funkiness between white women and black male athletes, as well as white women and black male non-athletes. I remember going to watch a fight at this house a bunch of football nikkas lived at, and while we watched the television suddenly hearing a voice from upstairs scream "fukk ME! fukk ME! fukk ME WITH YOUR BIG BLACK COCK!" I'm sitting there with the mean combination of the Rock raised eyebrow and the Weebay
What made it wild is no one else in the living room batted a fukking eye. No one. I tapped my homeboy and gave him the look like "yo, fam, what gives?" Homie hit me with the
20 minutes later, this tiny, pale, churchmouse looking white chick walked down the steps, through the living room, gave a half wave to us, and dipped out the front door. At that point I was beyond
because I recognized her as Melissa, a softspoken girl who worked at the library and dated this white dude in my Anthro class. I started laughing like a motherfukker and shaking my head, and finally was like "can one of you motherfukkers hip me to what the fukk I just saw?" One dude was casually like "What, Melissa? That's a weekly thing, man. Everybody in the house done hit that shyt."
I remember this white dude I met in grad school, built like a fire hydrant with a big ass head, one of the phoniest cats I've ever come across, always smiling and pretending to be happy to see you and shyt. Every time we were at a social gathering, in a room together - a potluck dinner, drinks, that sort of shyt - he would crack jokes about how small his dikk was and how unsatisfied his wife was. It got extremely awkward for everyone there, especially the women. A mutual friend told me he never, ever made jokes about his dikk unless he was in a room with me. Imagine the insanity, man! My mere presence made this poor little doofus fear for the sanctity of his manhood and his marriage.
I remember the married, 40-something, demure, church-going white woman with a husband and a teenage daughter who came up to me one night at a restaurant and whispered "I know you've seen me looking at you, and I know you know I want to fukk you." I feel like any nikka who is attractive and well-spoken and knows how to present himself shares my disgust and awe at how bold older, mediocre white women are in approaching younger, attractive black men. Those bytches really buy into the worst stereotypes - they think they're entitled to our dikks, and that we truly crave being with any white woman who crosses our paths. I'm always hearing Slick Rick in my mind when these bum bytches approach me:
and with your wrinkled p*ssy, I can't be your loverrrrrrrrr. This broad somehow tracked down my email address, started sending me emails all the time. I still have some of them, and I'm about to copy-and-paste them joints here right now. Keep in mind that she was on some
callin' my crib and I ain't even give you the number shyt, and that in typical corny white woman fashion, she was trying to dress her whorishness up as some poetic shyt:
#1
handsome, if you and i are ever lucky
enough to make love, can we
do so s l o w l y, with appreciation
and can we kiss and kiss and kiss
until i feel like i live in your mouth
and can we listen to dwele?
at that Dwele shyt.
#2
as we raised our glasses at the bar tonight, my friend said quietly
"to the handsome black man behind me"
"to him"
i said.
and then we talked, or maybe she did, about other things.
#3
you're a man full of wonder and loveliness.
people can see it even if you think they can't.
#4
You visited my dreams last night.
You laid yourself diagonally across the bed.
Your back faced me.
Your head was propped, elbow bent.
I was under the covers, but cold. Night gowned. Asleep I knew who you were.
I slid myself until I was against you. You were so warm and endless.
Every bit of me was pressed against the length of you.
I fit myself around your shape and slept. You started
to talk. I couldn’t understand what you were saying, didn’t want to,
but the rhythm was nice, sounded like a voice underwater. Then,
your foot, now dream bare, found a way under the sheet and slid
from my inner calf to rest on the arch of my foot. The weight of it made me feel safe.
I heard the door. Somehow saw a line of light travel the room. Then silence.
When it was completely dark again, you used your foot as leverage,
lifted the blankets and turned yourself. One arm over, one arm scooped from underneath.
Me into you. And I was so warm. And your face buried between my neck and shoulder
you whispered, “You smell so good.” Then, every part wound, we slept.
No further commentary needed.
I remember this white chick who was dating a friend of mine got drunk with me one night and blew my fukking mind when she confessed to me that my homie had been requesting that they do fukked up role-playing during sex: she was the master's wife, and he was the slave. Shorty had tears coming down her face as she was telling me that he wanted her to say "You're mine, n1gger, I own you," and "You fukk me so much better than master does." She was like "I love him, and i don't want to lose him, but I can't keep doing it. It feels wrong." Fam, I never looked at dude the same. I wish I hadn't have found out.
I remember a white visiting professor trying to sleep with this white woman I sometimes kicked it with in grad school. Shorty told me he straight up asked if she'd fukked me, and how big my dikk was. That's word to everything. You cannot make this shyt up.
Race and sex make people fukking crazy!
Another white woman in my grad program who I barely knew turned to me at a cocktail party when no one was within earshot and asked "do you ever think about fukking me?" You know what I said? Immediately? Resolutely? "No."
She talked right past my no! "Because I think about fukking
you. I think about you throwing me up against the wall in your living room and fukking me from behind." That sort of thing isn't an ego-boost to a dude like me. It's foul and demeaning - it means you have very little personal worth to these bytches except as goofy sexual fantasy. It's depressing, actually.
I remember I used to fukk this half-white, half-Persian broad, went to her house for a couple days over a school break. I was sitting in the kitchen reading a book when she came storming through in tears, said "grab your stuff, we're getting the fukk out of here." Once we were in her car she let me know her mother - a woman who had intermarried, and whose family had a history of incest - warned homegirl not to date me because "our family believes in genes." Process the insanity of that declaration! The funny shyt is her daughter wasn't even my girl, she was just a side ho I would have filthy ass sex with. I would've never even thought to wife the chick.
Well then worship at the altar and get the fukk out. I don't kiss. 
@ the ending
@
