Trigger warning, afresh! When is the most appropriate time to brag about sex? Better yet, when is bragging befitting? As someone who is occasionally boastful, I believe bragging is relevant whenever people attempt to belittle you. My whole life, I’ve been surrounded by people who refuse or are reluctant to give compliments, and who would rather take credit for other people’s accomplishments than to acknowledge those other people’s success. So, my confidence is solidified by my own recognition of my magnificent qualities and admirable achievements. In other words, I brag because nobody else is going to do it for me! However, adults indiscriminately bragging about sex is weird to me. Again, sex has never been the most pressing matter in my life. And I believe that’s due to my untaught, inbuilt maturity. I’ve been silly, slightly irresponsible, disingenuous, ignorant, troublesome, and other things, but I’ve always been more mature than damn-near everyone around me. For most people, a lot of who we are is who we’ve always been. When I was younger, I had so much easy sex that it got boring quickly. By the time I was in my twenties, sex wasn’t exciting unless there was a challenge associated with it. And because I’m a smart, funny, down-to-Earth, private dude, bitches have always liked me—even at the peak of my awkwardness. I’ve definitely done the rejecting more than I’ve been rejected. But, yes, I have been rejected. And I’ve told y’all that I ain’t that cute, so remain on my dick at your own volition. I didn’t ask to be a part of your freaky fantasies. Additionally, I’ve squandered chances with many desirable women, that I actually wanted to eventually fuck, just because I was too bored with sex to romance them. In my opinion, excessive excitement about sex requires a level of greenness that I quickly overcame as a teenager. Don’t get me wrong, the human vagina is the most formidable and fantastic object below the exosphere. But why is sex so important to so many people? When you’re smart, you realize how much people basically oppress themselves by voluntarily allowing other people’s repressive ideas to hold ascendancy in their lives. For the majority of people, thinking and living autonomously is all but impossible! Don’t believe me? When was the last time you drove on the highway? Doesn’t it seem like people don’t want to be left behind while driving amongst a congregation of cars? As someone who needs space in every aspect of my life, I like to keep some distance between me and other cars on the highway. I can be in a nearly empty lane, cruising, and constantly witness flocks of doofuses driving dick-to-ass in light traffic! Why? Why the fuck do y’all need to be so close to each other?! I’m not attempting to dictate how people live, but all of Earth’s most strong-minded people are comfortable alone. And this is all pertinent to the topic of sex because many people believe they can’t function without a partner, even when their partners and relationships are dysfunctional. I understand that being alone is depressing to a lot of people, and I sympathize. However, I also comprehend that depression is oftentimes a component of emotional immaturity. I’m not bragging, but the way my brain is wired, I can’t waddle in sorrow or sulk in misery. And I love myself too much to allow other people to break my spirit. I’m sharing this to give people a little inspiration. Like old people say, “if you can’t be happy by yourself, you’ll never be happy”. And like Tyler Perry said, “you can do bad all by yourself”.
Unfortunately for women, men like me are rare. And not to contradict what I’m about to say, but if you want my advice—if he ain’t me, and if he ain’t nothing like me, he ain’t worth your time! Advice is commonly just opinions based on personal experience or blatant assumptions. That’s why I never seek advice. If I come across new information that makes sense, I happily heed it. But I would rather be wrong, and learn from my miscalculations, than to be sorry that I listened to someone’s personalized, disadvantageous suggestions. I take life very seriously, but not serious enough to avoid humanization. Like I mentioned in the last post, every effective remedy and cure in the world was the result of trial and error. And like the cliché says, “what works for one person may not work for the next”. That’s something I discussed with the last chick that rejected me. That was about 7 years ago, when keeping it real consistently went wrong for me. The chick was a black law enforcement officer, the only black female at her particular agency, and we talked about a myriad of shit for hours—while I was doing security on a movie set overnight. I wasn’t really that into this chick until I saw her Instagram avatar, where she was sitting down with her legs open, flaunting a slight camel toe—while wearing some tight-ass leggings. So, like a real motherfucker would, I slid in her DMs and gave her my number. She replied, “cool beans”, and I didn’t hear back from her. In retrospect, she could’ve hit me up, but who answers calls from unknown numbers?! Then, a few months later, because I hadn’t heard from the chick, my goofy-ass went back to her DMs and said something like, “Oh, shit. I don’t even remember sending this DM.”, just trying to get her attention. Crickets! So, Mrs. Officer, if you’re somehow reading this, I don’t blame you. I know, that’s funny as fuck, huh? Again, it’s difficult for me to be embarrassed because I know how fake and weak people really are! I’m going to keep keeping it real. We all know that honesty hurts people’s feelings, in multiple ways. You can express your honest feelings about someone, and that transparency is likely to upset them. Then, you can be honest with people about yourself, and that dissemination of the truth is liable to cause them to regretfully question their own judgement. Because I like to keep people out of my business, motherfuckers have a tendency to just make shit up about me. I don’t mind the theories because I don’t give a fuck about people or their opinions. And I can also identify with the irresistible lure of curiosity. What, when, where, who, why, and how are all curious one-word questions that everyone yearns to learn the answers for. I’ve explained this before, but have you ever noticed that all forms of entertainment are comprised of stories? Music, movies, literature, stand-up comedy, conversations, photographs, etc. ain’t nothing but different forms of stories. I believe that people love lying and theorizing so much because they aspire to be great storytellers. The more uninteresting people are, the more interested they are in other people, the more they find interest in dishonesty and guesswork. With fictional stories being prominent in entertainment, it’s fathomable for people to imagine that fabricating fictitious stories will make them prominent in people’s lives. Sad, but fathomable.
Honesty can be feigned as well. If someone is consistent enough with their dishonesty, just the lack of reasonable doubt elicited by their consistency can be perceived as honesty. For instance, everybody thought Ice Cube was a hardcore gangster before he became a comedic actor. Today, we’ve learned that Mr. Jackson was an upstanding student who graduated from high school and smartly used hip hop music to evade street violence. Granted, you don’t have to be a gang banger or a street dude to be hard, I’m a testament to that. But Ice Cube literally played the part until he was too old and successful to consistently fake the funk. Old slang is hilarious! I agree with Special Ed. On a recent episode of Drink Champs, veteran rapper, Special Ed, proclaimed that NWA and their collective violent, militant, ignorant, self-destructive, rebellious gangster persona was responsible for the devolution of black culture. Objectors state that “art imitates life”, and that gang culture and black-on-black violence existed before the legendary rap group boasted about participating in said culture and violence in their internationally successful music. I’d bet money that most of you don’t catch the bulk of my sneakily snarky remarks, but that was an easy one. The fact is, gang culture wasn’t rampant in America before The Warriors, then Colors and NWA. In 1988, Straight Outta Compton debuted five months after Colors was released in theaters. I was born in 1987, so I wasn’t old enough to experience the culture shift first-hand, but as a life-long fan of hip hop and black culture, I’ve done extensive research. In Los Angeles, real-life gang wars were initiated because neither the Bloods or the Crips were happy with the way their gangs were depicted in Colors. It got so bad, gang bangers would stalk movie theaters in search of rival gang members to violate. And that forced the theaters to hire security, mostly off-duty police officers in plain clothes, to surveille and secure the facilities. Meanwhile, immediately following Colors’ release, Blood, Crip, and other miscellaneous gang sets were formed all across the country—as young, urban moviegoers became infatuated with gang culture. However, most of the notable black gangs were established in the late-60s and early-70s. The Black Disciples were initiated in 1966, the Gangster Disciples in 1968, the Crips in 1969, and the Bloods in 1972. The Black and Gangster Disciples originated in Chicago, and the Bloods and Crips in Los Angeles. Yet, NWA didn’t claim a set, they just represented general street culture, while being perceived as a gang, which effectively commercialized and popularized a once regional phenomenon. When you compound NWA’s preeminence as the dominant conveyors of black culture with the omnipresence of crack cocaine, you get a whole race of people who’re encompassed by inescapable self-immolation that they perpetually emulate because that’s all they know! To this day, in the traditional context, a nigga is a black person who is an insistent fuck-up and habitual lawbreaker. NWA made being a nigga fashionable, and a parody, by giving the title a distinctive dress code and attitude. Subsequently, they inspired more rappers to up the ante in efforts to appear more contentious and polarizing than NWA. So, niggas went from rapping about broken glass in the streets and pissy elevators, to police brutality and drug dealing, to abusing drugs and falling in love with prostitutes, to fucking an opp’s baby-mama in front of their baby after killing said opp a block away from the same house. Saying that NWA’s influence on black culture wasn’t an integral part of its devolution is like saying Joe Budden’s admission of drug abuse and domestic violence wasn’t him stating the obvious as a ploy to disguise his propensity to conceal the truth! Y’all heard Kendrick Lamar say “shit, everybody stupid” on Father Time? I’m not saying he’s a fan of my blog, but that’s my shit! At this point, I’m just going to assume that every celebrity I’ve tweeted has clicked the link at least once. Now, to briefly address the haters. Y’all think I’m this effortlessly consistent because I don’t know how reliably dope my writing is? If nothing else, people are going to find my opinions intriguing enough to look forward to. Y’all think I post this much because nobody is reading my shit? Fuck I need social media for, when I have my own website? By the way, thank y’all for bookmarking this motherfucker and continuously sharing it! Peace.