Misplaced Morals, Wavering Morale

I slipped and fell and landed hard on my morals and they broke. It happened early this morning as I stepped out of the tub and was bending over trying to slip on my chastity belt. I slipped in some holy water and whoosh there I went, and landed hard on them, there was an audible and very distinct crunch. Even above the loud clanging of my belt on the tiles I knew what I had done.

So here I go people. I say “forget chastity”, never mind I picked the lock on that thing years ago and the only reason I am still sporting it is because rhinestones are making a comeback!

I am working on my own version of chastity. It involves monogamy but in the sense that I will deal with my men one at a time.

I am not the Queen of the Damned here when I say that. It is damn near impossible to play innocent in our world today.

Before we continue I must place you on notice.
Disclaimer: I will get pretty crass in this entry and there is a little bit of my own sexual frustration exhibited here. I speak only for myself and the opinions expressed here do stem from personal experience (why front!)

I am working on recruiting a few more women to my goal in life. I am tired of the women that don’t give head. It is a give and take process women. I know some of you are a little phobic about it, so baby wipe it, rub some honey on it and get to work! I know it is a little crass but we all knew I was going to break out of my shell sooner or later. I am even more fed up of the men that don’t give head (Yes, I am talking to you). I have seen you eat more icky things and I don’t think making you lick on me is going to spoil the mood. I especially don’t like the men that just don’t know how to give good head; you get mad kudos for trying but don’t go there if you have not completed the training program. Call up your ex and ask her for some tips (unless that is why she broke up with your sorry ass in the first place, in which case you weren’t listening).

If you have a beard, 5 o’clock shadow or mustache, it is not cool for you to be down there. God! Get a clue!

If you have a phobia about it, I offer to you the same advice baby - wipe it, rub some honey on it and get to WORK! I don’t have issues with all men and I can have fun without head, but kissing is essential. Kissing is art, it can’t be taught, there are no moves that can improve the technique of a truly bad kisser.

For those of you who don’t know what qualifies as bad kissing, review the following:
Too much saliva – this is always a bad thing, ALWAYS!
Too fast – self explanatory.
Too much tongue – you are not trying to cut off the other person’s air supply. Tongue wrestling is cute but make sure you are both clued into what you are doing.
Using your teeth during a kiss is not fun, matter-of-fact it is downright scary. Don’t do it unless you have both agreed that there will be nibbling involved.
The introduction of air, either by belching or just pockets of trapped air is just not right. I know this is really a strange one but hopefully you never have this problem.

If you have any suggestions please feel free to add.

All in all I am really confused about this playing innocent shit. I am a freak and I admit it wholeheartedly, if there were a national anthem for super-venus-freaks like me I would sing it from my window everyday. You can definitely be a freak and not a whore. The difference is when and with whom you unleash your inner freak. Not everyone has to experience your freak within.

Disinterested

My latest disinterest (my interest has faded dramatically over the past two months), but for lack of a better word I will use disinterest for now. He is so involved in his career that he doesn’t have time to run a vacuum cleaner in his house or take out the trash. Now I know there are some of you out there that don’t care about those things, but when your friends are your business associates and you wake up thinking about your political campaign or work, then something is missing there. I mean, I roll over in the morning and my mind settles on my family or friends, getting dressed and the evening ahead and I feel good and get into the shower.

But he gets up and never mind that I am lying next to him and we have not seen each other in a while, there is no smile or nice words for me, just - “I have this idea, I have to find… I need you to help me get…” If I died tomorrow I would close my eyes on a day well spent, the wonderful conversation that I had with some of my close friends. I guess we all have our own versions of what “wonderful” and “meaningful” is but I don’t want to be remembered for my political ambitions, my career or my bank account. I can’t do anything with all of that on my deathbed nor can I even take it with me to the grave. I guess that is where he and I part and the disinterest within me swells.

The Dating Scene...The Dead Zone!

So, like YaYa mentioned, I met a nice piece of man meat at the club the other day. He was tall, muscular and well mannered and for those of you that can appreciated this...he could bench press a woman twice my size. I was in awe of my find. He had a nice smile and was really easy going. So I had breakfast with him when we left the club and invited him out on a date the following week. He came all the way from Brooklyn bearing gifts and cash to take me out and I was surprised that his wonderful personality extended past that night.

I brought him home, cooked him dinner and snuggled up under covers (after making out like two horny teenagers for like two hours). When we parted ways the next day, that was the last I heard or saw of him.

WHAT THE HELL IS THE PROBLEM MEN?

I took it all in stride. When he did not call me the following two days, I took it as a sign and was ready to move on. YaYa and a few other well meaning friends told me to hold out for a week and I did and came to the same damn conclusion.

A GODDAMNED PHONE CALL!!

One phone call people, at this stage I will even take a post-it note to close the deal. I absolutely refuse to be just left dangling. So I have resigned myself to the sad but true reality that most men are scum and the only way that I will survive on this pilgrimage is if I make the first move and call the shots. I am only willing to share control when he exhibits the capacity to do so responsibly.

So I made my own phone call yesterday; an attorney that I flirt with on the phone all the time and met once is what I have set my sights on. Nothing serious, just a lunch date and a few well deserved laughs. I am not looking for dick (remember I keep one on retainer, and I am a strong supporter of "self love") or a relationship (too much work). I just need a date and a full social calendar.

We made a date for today for lunch and I am a little excited (not too excited, heaven forbid I get too excited and the ground gets ripped out from under me). Hopefully this is not a dead fish and I can find some kind of mutual ground with him.

But someone, anyone, tell me what the hell is wrong with the men of this world? Cosmo and Essence have not scratched at the surface of what is fundamentally wrong with this picture.

Breaking Down

I agree with YaYa this whole dating scene is a waste of time at this point. My new man meat has not picked up the phone in a week to say anything and this is after we hooked up one evening after work, I cooked and he slept over - sorry fans no sex!

Anyway it has been a week and I don't know what the deal is. I broke down and called him three days ago and his phone line was busy. By the way, he does not have an answering machine at home nor does he have a cell phone - for those of you more experienced than me please tell me what that means.

I mean I thought I had really found someone that was worthy of my attention. Like I could spend some time drooling over him and not get too worked up about making a complete ass of myself. But after this kind of disregard I don't think I want to ever hear from him again. Yet the brother that I am not interested in is that one that I hear from almost everyday although his reasons for calling are pretty damn obvious.

I am falling behind on this pilgrimage and am in danger of just stopping all together. I can't go on!!! What makes men act the way they do? I would rather he called once after our date and said "you know, Onika, I really don't think this is going to work out, your cooking is atrocious and I don't like women that eat in bed." I could have dealt with a phone call like that.

I could have dealt with the thought that the man was just not interested but to be completely ignored is far beyond me. I can feel myself regressing, my buddy-boy-friend is looking really good right now.

Someone through me a line.

Man Meat Disclaimer

Many of you may think of my references to men as pieces of food/fruit as debased and may consider my true thoughts on the opposite sex to be merely shallow, but I beg to differ. I do see the value in the male psyche, I have admitted, out loud, how interesting and provocative their thoughts on globalization, the war in Iraqand Social Security are. I have complimented them on their soundness of mind in tough situations, their strength and dexterity in moving large objects. There are more to men than just meat. They were not placed on this earth for my sexual gratification nor were they created solely to annoy me (although some seem to have a handle on this skill). I am here to admit that there is something to be said about men that goes beyond oogling their physical appearances…I will let you know when I figure out just what that is.

Buddy-Boy-Friends

It is a term you will hear me use often. It refers to that category of men in your life that are a little more than dick-on-retainer but don’t quite follow the same rules as friends. They are a lot like friends-that-fuck but with more of a sentimental attachment.
I have officially released mine from duty. He was given his honorable discharge as of March 1, 2005, he gets credit for being a soldier.

I don’t expect that I will invest in another buddy-boy-friend, too many strings attached and although none of the emptiness of a one-night stand or casual sex it is not worth the sense of neediness that engulfs you at the thought of “spending quality time” with him. It is like being in a relationship that only exists when the two of you are in bed. Outside the parameters of my duvet we can’t seem to communicate or socialize, we never spent any time working on those aspects of the relationship so why expect that it would be any different now.

I discharged my buddy-boy-friend because he was on the verge of being promoted to main squeeze, it was as though I believed he was the only running water for miles so I never ventured too far or looked anywhere else. Until someone brought me a bucket and poured water over my head. “See, there is more running water!”

I had not realized that he was not the only option for getting physical gratification (or taking the edge off), playing it safe (safe sex) and having someone to talk too (companionship). But there is an abyss that lies between having a man that is genuinely interested in you and having one that is there for the sex, food and laughs. You are not a part of his world and so you get no credit for those things that really count.

FRESH FRUIT

A new way to categorize the men in your life!
Brothers, and by that I mean all men, it really does not matter what your creed, color or class is, all men fall into some kind of category but for my purpose and according to a current theory that I have been developing over the past few weeks, I will categorized them as we would food at the supermarket.

Let’s pretend that we are in the produce section of the supermarket, unlike the meats and poultry section or the aisle with the bread and pastries, it is here we can get a real “feel” for the products that we are going to take home with us and if you are really naughty or an outright thief you can sample while you select the ones that you are going to take home to mama.

There are 8 categories, and although we are all looking for the one good man, there is no one right category for women. Depending on your tastes you can find yourself sampling out of three or four categories and finding the experience satisfying. But first you must know what you are looking for and as an experienced guide I have made it my duty to define each category as well as identify some tips that will help you navigate the “Produce” section of the dating “supermarket”.

1. Old/Mature Fruit


2. Fresh Fruit


3. Bad Fruit


4. Inedible Fruit


5. Canned Fruit/Pickled Fruit


6. Over Ripe Fruit


7. Under Developed Fruit


8. Forbidden Fruit

I know and understand fully that you selection can also be limited by the area that you supermarket is located in, and the store that is carrying the precious produce, but for right now we will over look that. Another entry, another time.

Old/Mature Fruit
There are two categories under this heading. There are the fruit that look old and have clearly been on the shelf for a long time and there are those that have defied time and look as good as they did when they were first shelved.

The trick to picking the best of this lot is knowing what to look for. It is like picking out the best cantaloupe. Do you knock it, roll it, pinch it, squeeze it, or shake it? What are the rules to picking out the best man fruit? No one wants to take home a piece of fruit that has seen its day in the sun literally and lived to tell about it. Wrinkled, dried, softened (liquid) fruit are not your best choice. You want someone that has aged with dignity. He has maintained his firmness in all the right areas and has aged gently. Yes, it is true he may have been handled by a lot of other shopper and maybe he has been taken home a few times, committed a few times, but there is nothing like the taste of a raisin and much like fresh fruit that are not as sweet as you first assumed there are many things you can do to liven up your old fruit. That is why God made Viagra!

Fresh Fruit

Just because that is what the sign says does not mean that is what it truly is. Fresh does not mean ripe, it only implies that the fruit was recently harvested and depending on the individual, recently can mean a whole lot of things.

In terms of men, fresh is the brother that looks like a newly minted penny. He is fine, crisp, all his gear in the right order, right size and even if he needs to shave, a 5 o’clock shadow never looked so good on a man. He is the type that makes you smile in your sleep and if you are one of the unfortunate few that work with him or must sit next to his entirely too edible ass in class you have to mind your manners all day and avert your eyes when he addresses you directly, remember what you mother said about staring directly into the sun.

But there are those who qualify under the fresh fruit title that are not all that appealing visually. They are the ones you buy because they have potential. They are slightly dinged or dented, but smell good and are sure to taste good and you reason “they are fresh, where can I go wrong!”

Beware ladies, fresh does not equal ripe, he, whether sexy, cute, cuddly or adorable, may not be ready to be picked up of the shelf. He might be sitting proudly ahead of the pack but might be to far ahead of himself for you to devote any more time than the nonchalant squeeze and roll between your palms.

But for those of you that are more adventurous and your recipe calls for fresh fruit, then by all means take him home. Slice, dice and sauté his ass and serve him up with ice cream or in a salad (some of us like to mix it up).

Bad/Rotten Fruit
Sometimes it is clear from the skin that there is something wrong with this brother. He is the one that calls his mother for everything, usurping your place as his woman and insists on talking over you to make his point. He is the one with the long line of bitter women behind him all too eager to share their sorted tales of his no-good ass and all sporting one or two babies by him.

But there are others that you don’t realize are bad until you commit and take them home, and you have readied yourself for what looked like a good piece of fruit only to find yourself with a putrid piece of rotten pulp in your mouth.

He is the man of your dreams that you try to convert when his “bad” habits come to light. The abusive brother, the addicted ones and the men committed to the game and not to you.

There is only one choice and although you have invested your time and energy, the sooner you realize that you have made a poor choice and take the necessary steps to correct your error, secure a new bank account and cell phone number feel free to take your leave and if you are up to it, run back to the supermarket and try your hand again, or maybe try a whole different kind of fruit.

Inedible Fruit
It is the type of man that you have allergic reactions to. You know…aint-got-no-job, or still-living-at-home types. Like that name says they are not for consumption so why hang around to hear the story?

Canned Fruit/Pickled Fruit
This is the type of fruit that have evolved past his original purpose in life. He is the type of brother that goes beyond the produce aisle and had manufactured a whole new level. Under this category there are two possibilities:

New and Improved
Remember when you had to have a can opener to get into one of these suckers. This brother has a pop top lid and comes in a variety of sizes and assortments designed to suit your tastes. But for all of the new fangled attachments, he is all you could have hoped for and more. He adds variety to our diet but there is confusion and this is where our subdivision must divide again.

Tropical Fruit Mix – He has got a bit of everything to suit your taste but in all of the mix you are all mixed up as to what his true nature is. Are you looking at a piece of cantaloupe or banana? Unfortunately there is no message in the label that will help you out with this one; you will only know when you try it. Is he gay, bi or straight? The brother can dress, dance and is up on all the latest news, gossip and facts and he has a job and all his teeth. He seems to be interested in you. He pays for your drinks and holds your hand. But when “Paul” comes around there is a little more talking and laughter there than you would like to see two grown men share. To ask him outright will make you look ridiculous, you have been dancing with him all night and he is so attentive to just you.

When it all boils down to it you have to delve right in and taste the dame fruit, pray for banana!

Pears - He is new fangled but he is what you see, straight, but you won’t find out till later that he appeals to the more masculine tastes too. Maybe in three months when you are taking that ever so sweet romp in the sack and he asks you to try something new. Again just stick with the bananas!

Dried/Sweetened
He is the one with the extra sugar, syrup, the one that you have to add to your cart because he is convenient. He has help in all the right departments and is easily a favorite treat. He has a nice car, nice smile, and a pleasant personality. No surprises in this one but also no excitement.

Although this kind of brother can be a compilation of many other categories of fruit there is a definite win/win clause to his existence. He is the career oriented brother; he is focused and smart but might be too driven. He has become super fruit but might loose his identity in the process. Ever open a can of peaches and ponder to yourself, “It kind of tastes like peaches but not”, or pineapples.

There are fruit that were never meant to be canned or preserved. How about mangos or guavas? So even here the road gets rocky ladies.

Over Ripe Fruit
The brothers that grew up way too fast. They were over-sexed at an early age and have fed into the pimp and/or thug life image so thoroughly they can’t see women as anything more than objects. As the term implies they are young and don’t know any better but you will find older men that fall in the same category. They are the ones that are convinced that they’ve got what you “need”. They have convinced themselves and those around them that they are grown-ass men, they provide for their families even if it means hustling or overlooks the fact that their families are several very single mothers with children that they have been compelled to by court order to support.

Under Developed Fruit
He is that brother that got tossed in the dating game by some horrific twist of fate. He is unprepared and hopeless. He would be better off if he called early retirement and lived out the rest of his days as a hermit. He is the guy at the club with no finesse. The same one that cock-block for the whole night. You know the one. He rolls up on you early in the evening, and zeros in one of your girlfriends and talks her to death. When she finally convinces him that she does not want to dance he moves over to the next girlfriend oblivious to the fact that we have all overheard the conversation and have collectively said “no” to any physical contact with him for the rest of the night. Women are like the Borg, “resistance is futile” and we all know what the hell is up way before you cross the dance floor to compliment us on our unique look or great smile.

He is the brother that always ends up driving a minivan to work, because it is practical. He has one of those desk jobs and stares at data all day. He has been arrested once, maybe and will seek any opportunity to regale you with epic tales from the wonderful and exciting world of Data Processing.

So put the fruit back, matter of fact I should slap you for having reached for it. He is under-developed, there is no way you can get him back to the tree to ripe, not even a brown paper bag can save this soul.

But for those of you glutton for punishment maybe he can be molded into something. Maybe you can pickle his ass and have it with a Philly cheese steak; Lord knows you are going to need some real meat to get with this one.

Forbidden Fruit
I know Eve wishes she never fancied this one. I am talking about the brother that is currently involved with a less than worthy sister (or at least that is what you have been telling yourself). He is the kind that is off the shelf and in someone else’s cart. There are tons of ways you can rationalize stealing him away from her but you know in your heart that it is wrong. That woman worked hard selecting her fruit. If you are willing to shell out a little extra cash to get him in your fruit basket than I guess you can live with that. But if he is ready to left for the highest bidder what makes you think you are the only one at the auction. Leave the forbidden fruit alone.

I know there are worlds of categories out there for men, but just to help you navigate our world it would be nice to teach you the lingo. We will refer to our selection in the fruit category from time to time, but for now it is just a theory and needs some more work. Feel free to add.

Meet Onika

There are no words to encapuslate my persona...but considering that this is my introduction I will try.

I am a chocoholic, sex-o-matic-venus-freak (yes dammit I said it), urban bushwoman in my own right, I figure I can do the hairy legs scene but I need my eyebrows waxed every two weeks. I love men but in the midst of all the buddy-boy-friend drama that most of them come equipped with I have chosen to categorize them solely based on their buddy merit rather than their boyfriend standards.

I am definitely not a workaholic. I no longer subscribe to the diligent, studious outlook on life but have resigned myself to a more relaxed, easygoing view...I don't get paid enough to be too serious about myself.

I am West Indian, Trinidadian to be specific, NOT TO BE CONFUSED with all the other islands or any other "ian" out there. But I will save the distinctions for another time, another blog.

I am currently single, a word I use loosely...shhhhh! don't let on.

Anyway...enough said let's get started.

Welcome to Our Pilgrimage!

I figured that since this was the beginning of this blog, introductions were in order. In Search of Man Mecca, is our story of sex, dating and men in the city while searching for something or someone more profound. Man Mecca, if it really exists, would be the conclusion of this blog, but we figured that the pilgrimage would be more than blogger worthy.