i feel like a fucking stud
i feel like a fucking stud
when I was a kid the first girl I asked to be my girlfriend was a stoner chick with feathered hair and see through flannels worn down from use and reeking of perfume and resin.
she said she liked me but if she said yes she’d get her “ass kicked” and by that she meant that her dad didn’t want her dating a black guy, which didn’t bother me so much because in Illinois at the time that wasn’t all that unusual.
back then there were no black news anchors, no black quarterbacks, no black presidential candidates, and very few black kids in the suburbs, so I don’t blame her dad. too much. whats funny is I watched the dudes that she dated through junior high and high school and they were a long parade of losers dropouts and metal heads, some of whom were my friends and indeed losers. but the funny thing about racism, even mild racism is a dad might be more comfortable with a white loser who his daughter would break up with than a black guy who she would fall in love with.
at that point I decided that I would only date cheerleaders. If youre going to get said no to, I figured, it might as well be from someone out of your “league”. Crazy thing was, not many people were confident enough to date a lot of the cheerleaders in my school. I wasn’t confident either but I went for it, and a few said yes.
one girl’s dad was obviously not very happy about the situation and when I came to pick her up to take her to the movies he made sure to show me his rifles and animal heads hanging in his den. I didn’t see any brothas up there but I got the hint. And I never asked her out again. one day in homeroom she said, why haven’t we gone out again and I was all, I have a girlfriend in California who would get mad if I dated any cheerleaders.
when I moved to california being Black was a great thing. some girls went out of their way to date me because i wasnt the blonde surfer that they had grown tired of. fine with me. only problem was i was a virgin and i wanted to wait until i was totally in love before i wanted to have sex. they didnt care. they just wanted to see if the myth was true.
most of them didnt have much to compare anything to so they were all wow and i was all theres nothing there to be all wow about but they didnt know. nor did they care and i spent much of my junior college days doing everything-but with punk rock girls wanna-be mods and beach girls and the back seat of my cadillac, as messy as it was, got a lot of action.
so yes i experienced racism as a youngster, but the tables turned nicely after not too long and even though when i was younger and had to deal with the tangles of my thick afro and longed to be a surfer kid with blonde locks, it didnt take me long to see that who i was had its definate advantages.
too bad i had to move halfway across the country but whatever. like the man said everythings about location location location.
have everything against us but its cool, so do fireworks
and they end up ok.
sat in the car listening to randy newman and talking about the bible which is code for her friends read this so read between the lines.
wed be inside but time has a habit of flying whereever we go and so the game is to keep your eye on the clock because then it wont move so fast. i like to call it out which my belief says stuns it and it freezes and thats when you kisser but its a waste since its borrowed time in the first place.
some of you may wonder, whats it like to kiss every hot babe in hollywood and i wouldnt know but i would imagine that it must be odd if every new girl kisses slightly better than the one before her which is why you have to jump back a few spaces just to make sure.
her name is yolanda shes from yamacia, ya kiss em twice and ya datin.
sixteen feels like blueballs sixteen feels like seventeen and looks like a steamed up front windscreen.
yolanda likes airplane glue and a well placed boo and the crispy crack of a cold mountain dew.
she says im gonna get contacts soon and everyones going to freak out and takes off her glasses and lets down her hair and she seriously thinks that a hetero blogger can just sit there and not jump over the stick shift no matter how many dianetics pass by on the miracle mile
she says she wants me and i say stand in line she says she needs me i said desire is the root of pain she says whats a led zeppelin and i say lets get lost and she says lets make like robert frost and take the chopper one less traveled and i said what sort of man do you think i am and she says just live up to the lies,
born in september bloomed and rememberd
gave a hotfoot to gloom
and kissed my ass to dumbember
aint sure at all if the whole things a fakeout
wraps her arms around tomorrow
and breathes me in just like a flower.