How Low Can You Go?

Hey y’all! How’s it going today? So, admittedly I am getting old. When listening to the radio, I tend to go from gospel, to oldies, then to the other oldies/neo soulish station, then if there are no good options, I head to the stations where hip hop lives. Or dies a slow death. What up Nas. Anywho. I had heard that Usher song, the one with Nicki Minaj, but like a 12 year old was just caught up in the beat. And not really hearing it, ya dig? But being the old person that I am when Nicki would rap, I would be like, “why does it sound like she’s talking to another girl?” And then…

Dark & Stormy sent me this article, titled I Done Had About Enough, and Raving Black Lunatic was talking about how in that said song Usher and Nicki are talking about a ménage a trois. And I was like sayyyy whhaaat? Is that what they are talking bout? Hold up. Wait a minute. No. I immediately responded to Dark & Stormy with a what the hell? I checked with Mint Julep. “Yeah chile. And you gotta check the video,” she said. I headed over to youtube and after finding the uncut video was asked if I were 18 years old. Mercy. I watched. And listened to the lyrics for the first time. And was dead at:

If you're fcukin with me
Really fcukin with me you go get some girls and bring them to me
If you fcukin with me
Really fckuing with me you let her put her hands in your pants
be my little freak

Ummm… No, thank you? I’m not going to go into how I can’t believe that they play this mess on the radio. And I know that I came up in the era of Lil’ Kim’s I used to be scared of the dyck and put it in your mouf in your m-in-fin mouf, and West Coast gobble a dyck Explosive. But um er…those songs from what I can remember were not played on the radio. But that’s not the point of this post. The point is…

This is why these nigs have no damn sense! Rum Punch are you blaming rap music? Yes, I am! Is that fair? No, it’s not. But it’s Friday, my day, so just let me write it yo! Heh. And I’m really not just blaming rap music, but just how oversexed and inappropriate we are becoming as a society. Like how is it ok for someone to say, you know what the music world is missing right now, is in desperate need of at this very moment, what the people really need to hear - a song where I can tell a chick to put her hands in another chick’s pants. A song where I can peer pressure a chick to bring me back some hos. Cause you must not be fcukin' with me if you won't do it. And no one is like that’s crazy? You can’t put that on the radio? M’kay. I weep for these babies. And for us ladies of this current generation for that matter.

Cause a dollar to a donut, some guy will repeat this lyric (or a variation of) to a woman and think it’s ok. I mean cause wasn’t she just shaking her ass to it on the dance floor two seconds ago, anyway? Some girl will get asked point blank if she would ever go to a sex club. Some unsuspecting woman is gonna open her phone and see a text message of his d**k in a box. Like that’s ok. Some guy will "slyly" ask you to have a threesome. Or want you to send him a video of you. Some guy will get his Tiger Woods on and text some foul ass, this muhfcuka done lost his mind, does yo’ mama like you, type texts. I mean did y’all see those Tiger Woods texts? My homegirl and I were joking that he put Kwame Kilpatrick to shame. Kwame was like ‘yo come give me some head.’ Tiger was like, “lemme pee on you” © Dave Chappelle. Like this is ok.*

But apparently it is. Cause who’s saying it’s not ok? I remember hearing Sister Soulja speak years ago in undergrad and she was talking about hip hop's disrespectful lyrics about women and how we ladies be like, “oh, but he [insert your favorite rapper here] ain’t talking bout me. He talkin’ bout that ho’ over there.” Uh huh. Yeah. Ok.

But it’s only a matter of time until you’re that ho. Or approached like you are one at least. No matter how classy you are. No matter that you don't get down like that. Or come off like that. And you don't dress like a ho. Or act like a ho. No matter if you got a degree, a job and you pay a mortgage and all yo' utility bills. No matter that you're a QUEEN and you command respect and he shoulda known better than come at you like that. No matter if your response will be 'oh hell no' and you done lost your mind. No matter if he was just tryin you to see how far you were gonna go. The point is, he's gonna think it's ok to expect you to go low, lower than you know. Oh and then while you're down there, could you just go ahead and let her put your hands in your pants?

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

*And please note I'm not talkin' about what you do with your boo to keep things fun and interesting. I'm talking about strangers. When you have to pause and be like 'nygga didn't we just meet'... Why would you think this is ok type ish...

I Get So Lonely

A while ago I mentioned that I was going to write a post about sometimes I wish I were a whore. But I decided to save it for another day. Well today’s the day. Lol. So as Courvoisier once wrote – everyone’s definition of a ho is different and susceptible to change depending on the circumstances. But for the purpose of this post I mean it as someone who sleeps with another woman’s man. Knowingly. On purpose.

So yeah sometimes I wish I was a whore or had ho like tendencies cause sometimes I get so lonely and I can let just anybody hold me. This article in the Washington Post was written by Lori Gottlieb, a 40 year old single woman who is now a single mother – she had a donor – she discusses how she wishes she had chosen Mr. Good Enough. We’ll get to that next week in our next Looking For Your Daddy episode. Today we’ll deal with the other half of the article. Being lonely. She writes:

It's not that women like her feel incomplete without a partner. And of course, not all women are looking for a long-term monogamous relationship. But still, if no man is an island, most women aren't either. How lonely it was, before I had my son, to wake up in an empty house every morning, eat breakfast alone, read the paper alone, do the dishes alone. How dispiriting it felt to move to a new place alone, to shop for groceries for only myself, to have nobody to talk to in those sleepy moments before bed except for girlfriends on the phone, chatting about -- what else? -- men.

But saying this aloud makes people uncomfortable. I got an e-mail from a never-married single mother like me who said that when she shared her loneliness on a single-mom listserv, people told her to stop feeling sorry for herself and to "get a life." One woman even suggested that if she was so unhappy being a single mother, she should put her child in foster care.

There is so much truth in this. I don’t think it’s PC for women especially if she got her own house, got her own car, two jobs work hard she a bad broad – to admit that she gets lonely. And f- all that dating and romanctical stuff. Sometimes she needs the weight of a man on top. Or just beside her in bed. Any man. An ex man. A young man. An ugly man. A dull man. Your man.

But women who love the Lord, have family and friends, travel, read books, have hobbies, see plays are not supposed to be lonely. Apparently that emotion was removed the day we got our college degrees. And as antiquated as it sounds, I think we heterosexual women who have partaken in D at lest once in our lives or ever been kissed real good can agree that there’s something about having a man around. The convos are different than with your girls. And sometimes they’re mo’ better. There’s flirting. And tingles. The heavy lifting gets done. The shoveling. The bug killing. The urges are met and tended to. There’s the sense of safety and security no matter how false it may be. I mean I think every single woman can belt out the chorus of Stephanie Mills’ Comfort of a Man and truly mean it.

And now as I get older and the nights get longer and the other side of the bed gets cold © Little Brother, and I'm not saying I would partake in such behavior, but I like Chris Rock, I understand how women can give up and say, “I’ll take your man” for the night at least. Shoot I had an opportunity presented to me recently. Don’t worry I passed. But fake intimacy can kinda sorta feel like the real thing if you close your eyes tight enough, no? Having someone in your bed, your space, your life, when it’s just you waking up alone, doing it all alone, looks good from a distance. And feels even better in reality.

Of course I know things always go badly when you try to do things the easy way. Heh. And so like Tupac told me to do, I keep my head up and try not to wallow in the feelings for too long. But sometimes I wonder if as you age, do things get worse or easier? Does the loneliness settle into your bones like arthritis and just become a part of you? And you just take two pills of reality and keep it moving? I know several Black women who’ve never married or been alone and the topic of loneliness is rarely discussed. And it’s a taboo subject. Cause when you’ve been blessed, you’re supposed to be happy at all times. You know.

But as I watch these women conquer the world, be that badd chick, I wonder if even in a room full of people do they sometimes feel totally and utterly alone? Do they sometimes cry in the dark? Or in the daylight on their way to work? Do they sometimes just want to lean into someone else’s arms to be held and feel weightless? I mean like George Clooney’s character said in Up in the Air: “Everybody needs a co-pilot. Life’s better with company.” Even if they can’t spend the night...

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Cause Dark and Stormy knows how much I'm loving this song...

High (Ho)pes

Yesterday I had a very interesting conversation with a man who kept using “just kickin' it” as an expression for dating. I asked him just what he meant by ‘kickin it,' since every time he said it I was singing Xscape in my head. So, he was like, “oh it’s when you’re dating a chick, but y’all aren’t exclusive.” Ahhhhh I see.

So he then proceeds to explain that men have five steps when with a woman. And here they go.
Courting – When the man is wooing the woman
Go together – When the two are dating, getting to know each other, etc
Exclusive – They are officially a couple and aren't seeing other people
Engaged - Pretty self explanatory, but everyone didn't get the same handbook - I'm looking at you Tiger who had sex at your Bachelor Party
Married - Pretty self explanatory, but everyone didn't get the same handbook - I'm looking at you Tiger who had lots of sex with lots of women who weren't your wife.

“That makes sense to me,” I say. But here’s the problem, he says. Women tend to blur the first three into one. So, according to him women have three steps:
1. Dating
2. Engaged
3. Married

He then continues with, “once intimacy is involved, the woman typically thinks that y’all are now in the exclusive stage. Whereas the man is still at go together.” Or maybe even jumpoff. Heh. That’s Rum Punch ignorance – he didn’t say that.

Anyway. Ain’t that the truth! We women be quick to claim a man. Or just assume that cause he slept with us, then he must not be sleeping with anyone else. Of course when he laid it all out, it made total sense. But that’s not how things always go in real life when you feeling somebody, and they feeling you, and cocktails are involved, then both y’all nekkid, then the deed is done, without the big talk having been had, but you feel like he should maybe kinda say he wanna be with you. Sometime soon. Like maybe tonight. But definitely in the morning light. Ok. Lemme wait a week. Um how many months have we been doing this? So he don’t officially claim you. But you decide y’all are together anyway. Cause it's like you are. Riight? And he didn’t get the memo. And you see Chantel leaving his house when the moon is switching places with the sun. And then car windows are busted out.

And speaking of car windows. Um I know we have all put in our $1.25 on Tiger, and I commented last week that I never thought he was wrapped too tight - but man – if this ain’t a PR nightmare, I don’t know what is! Look. I really don’t have expectations of famous men to be faithful. And I really think these women know what they're getting into and if they were smart they would make arrangements.

And like a dude said the other night, that Chris Rock said, “a man is as faithful as his options.” And like daddy in Love and Basketball said, “even when you get past the 1000s at the stadium, there’s hundreds at the hotel, dozens on your floor, one in your bed.” So I get it. But what really sticks in my craw is all these random chicks Tiger chose. I mean really? Can you step up your options and go with some professionals. And yes, I’m talking about whores. Who picks the hostess of a restaurant who has nothing to lose? Why couldn’t you take it Michael Jordan style and get a better class of hofessionals? Like we allll know Michael Jordan was unfaithful, but please name one of his hos. It’s ok. I’ll wait. Riiiiight.

The point of these two random topics joined together is that women usually have some type of expectation when going into something with a man -and the stakes are a lot higher once bodily fluids are exchanged. Men be going along for the ride, trying to see how far they can go, how much finnagling they can do, how long they can keep it just like this.

Whereas women are in it for something - whether it be tangible or intangible, cleary defined or blurried lines, socially acceptable or not: fame, money, that Mrs. title, security & stability, love in all its forms, a winter boo, a summer home, a free dinner at Ruth Chris or Red Lobster or Wendy's, a daddy for these kids, all of the above. Yes, there is usually a pricetag on the psusy. Now we could discuss all day long that too many women devalue it. But the point is that when the ish hits the fan (and other cliches), if you haven't acted right - you will pay for it. One way or the other.

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

Can I kick it? Yes, I can! Y'all look at Kandi 'I Fly Above' Burress, and T.I.'s ride or die chick Tiny. And the other two. Lol. Man this brings back memories!

Let's Talk About It

Since Rum Punch started, I thought I would continue for a spell...

In case you didn't know, Courvoisier is the type of girl that loves it when a man tries to impress. In fact, I think it is the best part in the art of wooing. Guy meets girl, girl engages guy, guy impresses her, blah blah blah. And in most cases it usually goes that way for the Courvoisier but somewhere during the impressing stage, a brother can go sooooo wrong. Say the wrong thing, be too proud of something that ain't all that, etc but I have to say the worst is the dick bragging. I am just going to put this out there, Courvoisier's top performers consists of silent killers. It is like the more talk, the greater the chance I will be disappointed.

"I can't wait to lay this 8 inch pipe on you" - - eyebrows sink... really? (chuckle) instant turn off.

"Don't worry island girl I know you are going to love this yankee stick!" oh snap this took everything to stop from lol literally to this one. Is that right? (chuckle)

The best has got to be the random picture text that delivers so much more than a thousand words. (chuckle) Fellas, I am trying to figure out why you believe this is impressive. Or what you are trying to achieve with the hype. It is one thing if the relationship is getting hot and heavy and we about to take it to the next level but how do kisses on the cheek lead to this?

Don't get me wrong, Courvoisier loves the fresh talk and occasional nasty text of what to expect next BUT pump brakes homie unless you are 200% sure that you lay it down returning-customer-gigolo style. Let your member speak for himself, no need for a hypeman. You don't hear me telling you that my kitten is... (chuckle) or is this what you want to hear? 

Much luv until next week... peace :)

P.S. "What is your winning tool?" (chuckle)

Back That Thang Up

So here at the 5 spot we talk about a lot of things – love, work, relationships, race, etc, etc. But one thing we don’t talk about that much, as another blogger would say, is chex. And I’m not talking about the cereal. But that’s all about to change cause it’s Friday and I feel like getting ignant. And here we goo...

Ladies, what is up with men’s obsession with an@l? No offense to anyone who enjoys it, if that’s your thing, do you whodie… But er gents can I give you some um pointers should you ever plan to broach the whole an@l discussion? Personally, I think it’s something you need to ease into. Literally and figuratively. In conversation and in the bedroom. You can’t just slip it in. While we’re getting it on. Or while we’re enjoying cannoli and donuts for dessert.

Call me old fashioned, but talking about chex makes me blush. I’m not opposed to talking dirty, or telling you what I like, or hearing what you want done, but it’s all about verbiage - so that it’s sexy and doesn’t make me feel like CoCo, the two dollar whore, walking the streets in a mini, halter top, and six inch Come Fcuk me heels, looking for the next John. You know unless it’s clear we at that level of freak-y. If we ain’t, one way we’re not going to get there is with you asking “do you like an@l” or saying something stupid like, “I want a woman who uses three holes.” Next.

You know how they say a woman knows pretty much immediately if she’ll sleep with a man? This is truth. And the more a man speaks, the more it can ruin his chances. And telling me on a first date over some skrimps that you know places in a woman’s foot to make her cum will have me saying, “that's where I'm going to stop you." And check please. Now you done messed up and you definitely ain’t getting none. But if you do happen to not say some dumb shyt, pass the test, and get you some then….

I think I speak for many a lady when I say you ain’t fooling nobody when you’re back there acting like you accidentally put it in the wrong hole. Poking around like we won’t notice. Trying to see how far you can go. But you already know… That type of shyt is liable to get you hurt or at least emit a, “muhfcuka is you crazy?” If that’s what you’re after, you better say something before the lights go down. It can’t be all impromptu. Gotta give a sista some time to get her mind right. Consult the experts. Find out how to do it right. Pop a percocet. I’m just guessing. Tee hee.

Now if an@l is what you’re into – then an open and honest dialogue with your partner, f-buddy, one night stand should be had. Although I suspect if it’s a one night stand, “Do you want it on the floor? Do you want it on the chair? Do you want it over here? Do you want it over there? Do you want it in ya pu**y? Do you want it in ya ass? I'll give you anything you can handle,” will probably suffice.

But men please realize that the initial suggestion, no matter how correct you come, may make women squirm. But she also may be curious. And nervous. But she might not be totally opposed to the idea. And so she would need an understanding partner. A gentle partner. And a whole lotta lubrication. I’m just saying. But the surest way to get a hell muhfcukin no is to proposition a woman in such a way that she feel like she’s already been fcuked in the ass before the appetizers come. Unless of course you put your request over a techno beat and have some accompanying dance moves. You might get some laughter and a maybe.

Please put on headphones when listening to video!!



That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

And You Say She's Just A Friend

From time to time I enjoy watching old Sex and The City episodes on On Demand. The other day I caught one from an earlier season when Carrie and Big were just beginning to do their little two step of drama. And aside from realizing that Carrie was always neurotic, needy and crazy, I also realized that Mr. Big was a ho. In this episode Carrie comes in contact with three different women from Mr. Big’s real live little black book. First, she finds him on a date with a woman (since he and Carrie were not yet “exclusive”) and the other two women (who she meets while she and Big were at a party) allude to previous sexual encounters and out of town trips with him while Carrie was standing right there. Talking about, "You still have my sunglasses from when we went to Rio De Janeiro..." What the hell? Of course Carrie being Carrie acts like a crazy person. And Mr. Big is pretty much like “What? It ain’t my fault. I’m just friendly.” I’m paraphrasing of course, but you get it.

Now to be clear when I say ho, I’m not talking about a man who’s a cheater. I’m talking about a man who has enjoyed the pleasure of a lot of ladies. And a lot is obviously a relative term. So when I say ‘a lot’ think of that number that when you hear it, it would give you pause, make you be like say what now, make you say, “I ain't fucking him until he gets tested three times”. So maybe the women this new man in your life has slept with were just one night stands, or maybe they were regular jump offs, or maybe they were women he dated for a few months and took on great trips and bought shoes for, or maybe they were in actual relationships with them (a whole lotta relationships). No matter the who, what when, where of the encounter, what happens when you continue to run into women that this man you’re currently dating has been with? And even if he denies it or tries to play it off, you know when someone has been fucking. It’s all there in the body language, the tension, the spoken and unspoken, the nervous laughter, the woman’s glare or coy smile, etc, etc.

And what if you meet a man, as Always Funky Fresh so eloquently put it one time who is a social ho? You know the type, when he walks into the room, all the women know him because he has a tendency to want to make himself known. And while maybe you learn that he’s only slept with 10% of the women in the room and is just “friends” with the other 90%, you still feel slightly uncomfortable or uncertain or incredulous because... How do you really know? How can you really be sure? And can it really be that this man who is oh so fine and credentialed just happens to know all these women but hasn't slept with the majority of them? And does it really matter?

As Mint Julep pointed out last week, by the time you get to be a certain age, the new person in your life who has caught your eye has been with at least one other person. But when does it become too many other persons? And how would you feel if at every function y'all went to, you were always coming face-to-face with a blast from his past? Could you handle it? Would you be bold enough to ask him about it? Would you become a mini P.I. and start piecing together his trysts like it's a jigsaw puzzle? Would you pay any mind to the rumors (and you know there will be rumors)? Would you just shake it off? Would you cut a heffa in the bathroom? Inquiring minds here at the 5, inquiring minds...

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

asleep in sex education

When I was in high school I was deathly afraid of getting pregnant. While the thought still gives me chills since I’m still a ms. and not a mrs., I’d probably be able to handle it a little better now on the off-chance or freak accident that I did get preggers. Few things in life are guaranteed but one thing I know for sure is that you won’t catch mint julep saying out her mouth, damn ya’ll I’m pregnant, I can’t believe it, as a friend of mine said a couple weeks ago.

Like really, you don’t know how you got pregnant? Putting to one side the mechanics of the thing, how can one really be shocked that they end up pregnant in this day and age? Especially one who has been pregnant multiple times before. Now I’m not one to judge, well actually I am, silently in my head, but that’s neither here nor there. I’ve definitely been guilty of partaking of the goodness without a barrier, but I don’t make this a practice, especially not with someone who’s status I don’t know.

We are deep in the age of deadly STDs. AIDS ain’t new and syphilis, gonorrhea and herpes are running rampant especially in our communities. While he may not look like he got something, it stands to reason that with all these babies being born, there gots to be a whole lot of people going raw.

Mississippi gotdamn!

Although I’m technically celibate errr…again, I keeps my condoms (magnums, a girl can dream) handy and a supply of the morning after pill easily accessible. With all these implements at your disposal, you can’t tell me you surprised that you knocked up. Like mama julep say, “You can’t shit the shitter!”

Or she’d say, after I’d casually mentioned to her that so and so was pregnant or so and so had had another baby, “I don’t know why this girls [pregnant pause] be letting these NIGGAS, screw ‘em wit out a condom.” Then she’d lean in close, look me directly in the eye and say, “I know you want to have fun, get yo rocks off, but you betta MAKE these NIGGAS wear a condom, hell you don’t know what they got.”

Oh how me and my sister would be dying from laughter on the inside. Yet I wonder if and wish that more of my contemporaries had gotten the same straight talk from they mamas or thought more of themselves to listen during sex ed or figure it out along the way. For instance, at a gathering of some high school classmates recently, I was amazed at how many of the young ladies (and men) had babies and the size of some folks families. I could count on one hand how many are married or even engaged or even still wit baby daddy #1. Their kids are finishing elementary school while mine aren’t even a twinkle in their daddy’s eye. Hell, I’m not even a twinkle in their daddy’s eye, at least I don’t think. Tee hee.

I know children are a blessing. My niece is a gift who I can’t imagine my life without. But still. The paradigm has definitely shifted. I’m the unicorn in the room not just because I have no children but also because of my thoughts on the subject.

give him some!

I have had this topic in the back of mind for some time. Yet, the topic had been overtaken by events. And yet, when I saw the movie “Sex and the City” (don’t worry I won’t give it way to those of you who have yet to see the film) and the character Miranda didn’t give her husband any nookie in 6 months – I had a WTF moment. Get the fuck out of here. Why are you holding out giving him some? According to Miranda, her husband was a good lover and still attracted to her… well let’s just say shit happens and Miranda is dumbfounded by her husband’s actions – get the fuck out of here.

See ladies, Bellini believes you should give him some – and you wives know what kind of man you are married too. So, you know if you have a man who wants nookie all the time, just be’cuz, or whateva type he maybe. Now, Miranda’s excuse for not giving her man some was work? Huh? See, that lame ass excuse would have warranted no pity from me and believe me Carrie, Samantha, and Charlotte did not give her a pity party—and rightfully so. In case you are not aware, Miranda is a corporate attorney – so she utilized her occupation as a cop out. Ladies, who desire to be the kick-ass executive, doting wife, soccer mom, etc… If you want all those things, you must work  hard  at all those things. And you must be able to identify where you can slack off or if you can slack off? For me, once I’m a wife – I live by the creed home is where the heart is—thereby my husband, myself, etc. must all be happy.

Now, I understand we’re human, but you should never let your sanctuary become a foreign institution. I mean it. Bellini’s mama taught her well. My mother told me eons ago, that I would have to cook for my husband… and I got the message loud and clear and that is not an issue for me. Now , there are 3 F’s women are told to live by to keep their husband happy: Fuck him, Feed him, oops – I can’t think of the last F… but you get my point.

I ‘ve heard of that bull shit where women seek revenge on their man and opt to hold out and not give him some. Pick your battles wisely – ‘cuz that option might cause more drama in your home than it’s worth. Ladies we got it so give it and as long as he’s worth it – give him some!

cheers,


Bellini

stop in the name of celibacy

A while back Rum Punch blogged about celibacy by happenstance and celibacy by choice. At the time, I wasn't sure which one I was going through but since then I've been working to convert happenstance to choice for my own "get yo self togetha gurl and yo man will come" reasons. ummmm yeah that was a lie. More like I am celibate just because I want some quality time alone with my tanky (as my mama calls it) and haven't found anyone with whom I'd like to share.

But my celibacy by choice has been my own personal decision, one which I have not divulged with others, except my Ace and Duece Boon Coons. Because usually with this type of goal you don't really want to shout it from the rooftops, "I'm celibate, hear me roar!" Kinda in the same way that you don't go telling everybody that you're on a diet. Cause as soon as some hater or even a well-meaning family member asks you how much you've lost this week when they see you stuffing a piece of star.bucks lemon loaf into your mouth, you start to feel all guilty and stuff. Or you just keep eating that star.buck's lemon loaf like whatevs, at least i'm not as fat as...

Such is the way of things with celibacy. If you slip up and backslide into the land of gettin it in (i love that phrase for absolutely no reason) and somebody finds out about it (like that hater ass girlfriend of yours) you feel all guilty and slutty or all disappointed in your inability to commit to no relations. So I've kept it to myself (well until 1.4 minutes ago when ya'll started reading this), working through my daily struggle to stay on the sex free path with dedication and meditation. I can't speak for men but as a woman, staying celibate is pretty easy for me and should be for most women. Granted we get approached by men at least twice daily and if we wanted to partake of certain activities, we could easily find a willing male participant. But you just have to remove all temptations from your life. Stop taking calls from your old stand-by call in case of emergency brotha and take lots of showers under that really really forceful showerhead. Get involved in civic activities and do things to occupy your mind and you're straight.

Until...

You get presented with some goodies you always wanted! Or maybe I'm the only one with a list of men who I find *uckable and would seriously consider if given the chance? Last week, I just happened to be presented with the possibility of the chance at maybe getting a little closer to a "platonic" friend of mine. I've known this friend for a minute and I've always found him sexy, especially his body, his muscles, his...., yeah but we've been just friends. And for most of the time that I've known him, he's had a girl or I had a guy. ...

I won't go into the details here (a girl should have some secrets) but let's just say there was alcohol involved, words spoken, lusty looks given and I pretty much walked away from the possibility when I realized where things might be headed. And it wasn't because I didn't want to ruin the friendship, cause I feel like friends can make the best lovers. I think it's especially crazy when women hold back from pursuing something with a good male friend because they don't want to ruin the friendship. wtf? So you'd rather be alone or out here dating these fools who aint bout nothing when you have a perfectly good male friend who knows you and likes you and wants to see if ya'll can build a relationship. And I didn't walk away because of my celibacy commitment, at least not at the moment when I called a cab to take me home. At that moment, it was more because my head was spinning and I was pretty sure that if I stayed things might get ugly, in a head-over-toilet-bowl way.

In retrospect I'm alternatively kicking myself for passing up the chance and thanking God that I didn't go through with it. With a clearer head, I remember the months I've put into this celibacy thing and I've been wondering would it worth it to wash away all that time built up. But since I'm mint julep, I've also been imagining what it would be like and how much I'd really really really like to! And I mean really, have you seen this guy, hot sex on a platter ya'll!...

For sure, that moment when I almost stepped over the line from friends to friends who have kissed, touched, etc. has passed and who knows if it can be recreated. I want to but do I, should I?

in my mind

There’s this game I like to play with myself when I first meet a man. I ask myself, Is he *uckable or un-*uckable (with an f)?

Did you think I was gonna say is he marriage material? Yeah ummm no, this is just how me and my perverted, secretly freaky-deaky mind works. It's good to get a lil silly on our View every now and then.

And I know I’m not the only one, am I ladies? *waits for comments from my female readers*

You know, you do the not-so-obvious-but-oh-so-necessary vertical check of the man’s anatomy. Shoulders, chest, pants, shoes! Wipe me down! (c) lil boosie. Generally, a guy gets on my un-*uckable list for one of the following:

1. A belly that’s bigger than mine. This one really needs no explanation. Tubsters need not apply.

2. Unbecoming body odor (or a general aura of uncleanliness). Just like men like sweet smelling women, I like a good-smelling man who looks like he’s seen the inside of a shower/tub within the last 24 hours.

3. Under 5-10 and a half. I’m exactly 5-10 and a half and I need a man that is at least my height in order for me to feel like a grown-up. I like short men…as friends. Yeah it sucks, I know.

Once I’ve done my evaluation, then it’s back to booghetto professional mode. Hi! how are you, my name is mint julep? Blah blah.

The problem with this little game is that the man remains clueless about the impossibility of anything going down. The way I’ve mentally killed his getting-it-in prospects before he’s even had a chance to try out his A-game.

But I’ve been thinking that maybe I oughta do away with this highly unscientific, totally frivolous and what some might call prejudicial little game/test.

Or not.

What do you think? Ladies, are there any physical attributes that would put a guy on your un-*uckable list (if you had one ;-)?