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What Is It Like To… Be Vulnerable?

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year! I have been struggling over the past couple of days as I contemplate this post about vulnerability. In my personal life, “vulnerability” is a dirty word…dirtier than the words, “eating ass”. You see, I struggle with being vulnerable. It’s hard for me to take off my mask and say, “Here I am, love me, if you will!”. I would rather say, “I don’t give blowjobs because I am a pillow princess. Deal with that!”.

It’s difficult for me to be honest with myself. It’s even more difficult for me to share my truth with others, especially those who are a significant part of my life. I fear that if I share my true thoughts, feelings, and beliefs that I will find out that “I am not good enough”. Feeling like I am not enough as I am is very difficult for me. Throughout my life, I have been invalidated and manipulated by the very people that should have provided me with unconditional love. I learned as a child that love sometimes hurts and you need to act accordingly to avoid that pain. I learned how to hide who I am, even from myself.

Now as a 30-year-old, I struggle with romantic relationships and close friendships. It’s easier to ignore people and give them the silent treatment, than saying “I feel hurt by what happened. Let’s talk about this”. I find myself having feelings for someone that I didn’t expect have. I doubt that I will tell him. (Well, if he reads this blog, then it’s a wrap!) Anyway, what I am trying to say is I am learning how to be vulnerable. Basically, I am learning how to love myself and others and accept myself and others, as we all are, flaws and all.

Sorry for the sappy post. Usually, I write something witty about anal sex. Enjoy the consolation prizes below, Christmas Dildos! Special thanks to my friend who emailed me one of the photos!

No copyright infringement is intended on any of the photos/ screenshots used in this blog post.

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What Is It Like To…Be a Thirty-Year-Old, Single Female?

I know I talk a lot shit about old men with gray pubic hairs and saggy balls, but recently I started think that I, too, am old! Not “old” like I am a wise sage imparting wisdom onto to the world, but “old” like it’s time to die! In all seriousness, I never thought about what it would be like to be in my 30s and feel old. I remember making fun of people in their 40s.

 I guess, karma is a bitch, and this is what I get for talking all that shit.

It’s crazy because I feel like Benjamin Button…I am getting older but seem to look younger or at least youngish…

I have been told that terms like “young” and “old” are relative.

However, looking “young” is a problem when the guys hitting on you in bars are still in college. Like I want to say…before we dance, show me your ID, so I can verify that you did not slip by the bouncer.

Long gone are the fake ID days for me. Nowadays, getting carded is a compliment…it’s like saying “you still have a youthful face”.

I know those gray hairs and wrinkles are around the corner. When I was younger, I would put on makeup to look older. Soon, I will need makeup to hide those frown lines. Thank God, black doesn’t crack!

Forget about dating a younger guy, it’s not going to happen. I am too much and more than a handful. I will tell you about yourself and make you cry for your mama! Also, he would worry that a stranger would mistake me for his aunt in front of his friends, and that’s not hot.

Furthermore, you don’t see many 30-year-olds doing keg stands. Do you know why? Because we have to pay for our own health insurance, and deductibles are too fucking high. I am not going to break my neck and end up in Urgent Care because I want to impress a 22-year-old frat boy. Nope! Not going to happen!

But you know what will continue to happen?

Me…getting older…until the day I die….

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What Is It Like To…Get Your Freak On?

Ladies and gentlemen, it has come to my attention that some people (men) may have been offended by my butthole joke. If any of my jokes have offended you, I apologize. I typically write from my own (female) perspective, so sometimes I may not have realized that I may have crossed the line and offended others. I will make an effort to empower both women and men to let their freak flags fly. Instead of judging men, I will share constructive criticism to help men connect and develop intimacy with their female counterparts.

In an effort to help you all get your freak on, I have included a link to an article by Refinery29 in Honor of National Sex Toy Day (11/4/2019).

https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/online-sex-shops

For those who were intrigued by the butthole joke, I included a post by Dame, “A Beginners Guide to Butt Plugs”.

https://www.dameproducts.com/blogs/journal/a-beginners-guide-to-butt-plugs

There are always dating coaches telling women to do this or that to get or keep a man. Not here. Men…the spotlight is on you. Don’t fret. I am here to help. Hopefully, this will be an upgrade from The Game by Neil Strauss. I feel men have objectified women for long enough. Now it is time for the for reckoning. I have included a list of dating/ intimacy tips for men…by a woman…

  1. Let’s start with communication. – Be direct and honest. Say what you mean and mean what you say. If you want some freaky shit, it’s all good. Let your woman know. Discuss it and make sure you have her consent. She needs to explicitly say, “Yes, I agree to this. Let’s give it a try.” Please don’t try to coerce or force anyone, male or female, to do anything they are not comfortable with. That is not ok! That is the opposite of consent! Imagine a woman shoving a dildo up your ass without your permission. Not Cool! So, don’t do it either!
  • Teamwork makes the dream work. There is no “I” in team. Prepare to compromise and be there for your teammate. It’s not all about you. Eat the pussy before asking for a blowjob.  Better yet, 69.
  • Show up in your relationship. Support your partner emotionally. Just because you can make it rain or drizzle, does not mean you can opt out of being emotionally available.
  • Work on yourself, too! No one is prefect. Many people cope with childhood trauma and negative past relationships, but your partner cannot be your mother or 24/7 therapist. Feel free to seek professional help. I understand that there is stigma regarding seeking mental health or substance use treatment, but it is difficult to be emotionally present in your relationship, if you are struggling. Take the first step and seek help, if you need it. You cannot dump everything on your partner. She deals with enough already. However, your partner may be there to support you, listen to you vent, and may even attend your counseling sessions with you. For instance, a friend shared a story on how her partner refuses to eat dinner without her, even though she works very late into the evening. She explained that there would be a cooked meal on the stove or in the fridge, and her partner refuses to eat, unless she is home to specifically serve him his food on a tray. When I heard this, I immediately said, have you done counseling? Something sounds very off about this situation. Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot imagine working a 8 -10 hour work day to come home and serve a grown, able-bodied man who refuses to eat and sometimes goes to bed hungry because I am not home in time to prepare his plate. Men, that behavior is NOT ok! My friend suggested counseling to her partner, but this man would rather continue to go to bed hungry than to speak to professional about the deeper issues that may be at play. My friend is a very, very patient woman. If that man was my partner, I would be like… I love you, but you need help. Get it or continue to have your stomach growling. I eat when I am not home with you, and you should too!
  • Wash your ass! Looking and smelling good is essential. Women spend money and time on their beauty routine. You should give it a try, too! If you want your girl to toss your salad, it better be clean. Nothing ruins the mood faster than dry shit stuck between a grown man’s ass. No one wants to see, smell, or taste that.
  • Show appreciation. You don’t have to buy your partner a new car, so show her you care. Sometimes giving your partner a massage or preparing a luxurious bath for her can be a good start. Heck, it may even lead to some freaky nasty time.

That is all I have for now. Share your thoughts about the list.

Please feel free to add to this list in the comments below. Thank you for reading!

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What Is It Like To… Be Too Much!?

I have been told my whole life to be polite, be quiet, and be respectful.

If all the women are supposed to be polite, quiet, and respectful, who is checking the hell out of all of these fools?

That’s the problem with men these days….no one is checking them.

If men got checked more often, they would “think” more often. Because they would know….that some badass bitch would curse the shit out of them, if they did something disrespectful.

But nooooo…. We are all taught to be polite, make sacrifices, and eat man-shit.

No, thank you!

That shit pie is going back “Return to Sender”. If you can’t take it, don’t dish it out.

I know that I am too much for you. Don’t be mad because you can’t handle these Ds.

If being honest and telling you how it is…is too much… then too bad!

You can take your bad breath and huffing and puffing ass somewhere else.

Do you know what? I don’t give a Fuck!

Let the fucklessness sink in….

Ladies, are you with me?

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What Is It Like To…Put A Finger Up His Hole?

This is dedicated to a good friend of mine.

Ladies, your man may come to you with some freaky nonsense saying he wants you to put a finger or two up his butthole.

This happened to a friend of mine. She told me that she went on a date with human robo cop. They were doing the nasty when he decided to make a truly bold request. My friend told me that he asked her to put a finger up his butt.

 I replied “A finger? Up his what? His butt? Your finger?”

I was like, “So, what did you do?” (curious voice)

She told me that she did it. She stuck her slender finger and well-manicured fingernail into this human robo cop’s hairy asshole.   

I asked, “What happened next?”

She told me that she ran and washed her hands.

When she told me this story, I was laughing on the outside and crying for her on the inside.

To the grown men in the room, if someone stuck a finger up your butt, what would come out? No need to say your answers out loud. I don’t want you to put yourself on blast. Just think it in your head.

Could you imagine how many times she had to wash her hands to get the stench off it?

She probably washed her hands for 15 minutes. Then stuck her finger under her nose for the smell test and was like, ewww! I can still smell it!

And then washed her hands for another hour until her hands became pruney and raw. What a steep price to pay. Tis, Tis…

I don’t want this to happen to any woman in this room. I will give you specific instructions to avoid my friend’s fate. Are you ready?

First, men! GET RID OF YOUR ASS HAIRS! No one should have to parse through the forest of your ass hairs to find the dark ditch you call your asshole.

Find a salon and go in; face down, ass up. Take care of that!

Second, on your way home, get your woman one of these (holds up rubber clothes)  

Unless, you want your woman to be reminded of what your shit smells like, give her a pair of disposable rubber gloves.

Ladies, it you turn! You put on those rubber gloves and then you tell your man to spread his cheeks. Next, you count 1, 2…you shove a finger up his ass so quick, before you even get to 3. You shove that finger in with no lube.

 Nothing! Nada!

Then, you add the second finger. Stretch his butthole for a bit. Slightly lacerate his anus.  Very soon, he will ask you to stop. Your response: “What is the safe word?”

The thing is…there is no safe word.

You stretch that butthole for 30 more seconds, and then you pull your fingers out.

You see, you want to teach your man a lesson, not traumatize him for life.

The lesson is “Be careful when you ask for freaky shit, you might just get more than what you bargained for.”

Then you tear off those soiled rubber gloves and say, “I’m done!”.

What Is It Like To… Interracial Dating

I am a huge supporter for interracial dating. When I see interracial couples somewhere, and I just want to run up to them and give them a “high five” and say “thank you for keeping hope alive”.

(I love my Asian and Caucasian men.)

However, however, how-ever, I don’t just date ANYBODY!.

You have to meet certain criteria and offer special privileges to compensate for me getting the side eye from the whole black community when I am in public with you. I will call these privileges “pink and yellow privileges” after dick colors.

 (I know calling an Asian person yellow may sound derogatory, but “yellow” has a special ring to it. I thought about using the word “tan”, but any guy with access to tanning spray can tan his dick. “Tan” isn’t quit the same. Please don’t be mad at me. I mean no harm. 😊)

I won’t use the word “white” privilege because that would open a whole can of worms and lead to a path I don’t want to go down.

(I dated a middle-aged white man who refused to understand the concept of white privilege, and even went as far as to say that it did not exist.) I don’t want to get into race wars here, so I will stick with dick colors, “pink and yellow privileges”.

“Pink privilege” means that you are college educated, live in an upper-middle class neighborhood, and work as a corporate executive. I am not going to date that white guy that looks like Post Malone with gold teeth in his mouth. If you up show up at the country club, and other white people look at you funny, we are not going to date. If your vocabulary only consists of Ebonics, I can’t date you, if I don’t understand half of the words you are saying.

“Yellow privilege” means you have an advance degree in STEM, credit score above 750, and drive a luxury vehicle. If you are working at Walmart, take the bus, and only have a GED, we won’t have much to talk about. If you have a neck tattoo and refer to your friends as “my niggggaaass”, I will turn around and run.

However, “pink privilege” does not protect you against a white guy asking you to put your fingers up his ass.  No self-respecting black man would spread his butt cheeks and ask his girl to finger his butthole. Nope!

Furthermore, “yellow privilege” does not protect you from the Asian guy requesting to sit on your “pretty face” and lick his butthole.  No Latino man is going to swallow his machismo pride and ask his girl to eat his eat ass. Nope!

Pink and yellow are privileges are great, but I don’t want to play with anyone’s butthole. I still believe in interracial love though. I mean…. (singing) I will do anything for love, but I won’t do that!

What Is It Like To…Be Chronically Single and Depressed?

I am chronically single and depressed. This means I would have forgotten what a penis looks like without porn. I haven’t had sex in over a year, so Phillip Winters III would be asking me why there are cobwebs on my clit.  

However, I hate watching porn because it’s boring and stale. Where is the romance, the longing, the truly passionate stolen kisses, the gut-wrenching loss, and soul crushing rejection? Nowhere! Just stained sheets, sweat, body odor, and unwashed genitals rubbing together paired with fake moans, ill-suited dialogue, and music.

Love songs…

You know what I hate about being single? Love songs…yes, you heard right, love songs. What the fuck am I supposed to do with a love song? Go home, get into a nice, warm bubble bath, lather up nice and slow, rinse off, and put-on sweet-smelling Victoria Secret lotion.

Aaaannnddd…then put batteries in my vibrator. What the fuck? I won’t be able to hear the love songs over the vibrating noise of the jackrabbit…I just fucking can’t.

That Guy …

You know the guy…that guy…yeah him…

That guy who is all big and bad looking like a human robo cop.

But he has a secret…do you want me to tell you?

Come closer, closer, and closer….

(whispering) He has a micropenis and skid marks in his tighty whities. He is the guy we all need to avoid like the plague. Like what grown man wears tighty whities and still hasn’t learned how to wipe his own ass.

Uncircumcised penis…

Some American women are repulsed by uncircumcised penis. When I see an uncircumcised penis, I get hungry. To me uncircumcised penis looks like a hot dog in a bun. The excess skin is the bun and the head of the penis is the hot dog poking out of the bun. I see uncircumcised penis, I’m like, I can eat. I can go for a hot dog or some kielbasa, right now. Mmmm….

Then I ask my date, if I can get some food. He looks at me puzzled, gets up, puts his clothes on, and leaves.

Christian Grey….

I always wanted to be with a man like Christian Grey, but I ask too many questions and don’t take direction well.

Christian Grey: Lay down and spread your legs.

Me: Why?

Christian Grey: Just do it!

Me: You first! Better yet, get on your knees, bitch!

Christian Grey (Leaving the red room and shaking his head): She doesn’t listen. I want a sub, not a dominatrix!

I have learned that I am better off searching for an obedient man like Stedman. You know Oprah keeps his ass in line.

Also, my dilemma is…

How the fuck! am I going to fuck a real man, if I am home crying…

What am I going to do? Order Aquaman along with my sushi through Postmates? That would be a hell of a service fee…

Can you imagine Aquaman fucking me while I am crying?

No!! Neither can I…

The only type of guys that would get turned on watching me cry and whimper are narcissists, psychopaths, and sociopaths…

Likeeee…I guess you can taste my tears before you taste my vagina. Why not? (shrugs shoulders) It’s more hygienic than eating asshole….you know Hep A and all that jazz… (jazz hands)

I think I am better off crying in my bed than dead in a shallow grave somewhere…

No thanks, I can do bad all by myself…without Ted Bundy.

Men: (in unison) We want pussy, but this chick is too much. We want easy pussy. This one will take too much work. We are better off paying for pussy than dealing with this!

Me: These Ds are definitely more than a handful. My sharp tongue and blunt nature leave men feeling hurt like burnt toast. Bye Felicia!

What Is It Like To…Convince Your Man to Propose?

I asked a friend, “How do you convince your boyfriend to propose?”

Her response, “Give him anal!”

My response, “That’s way too much!”

I really wanted to say:

I’m not letting Phillip Winters III desecrate my anus for a ring and a prenup. Who the fuck do I look like? Get the fuck outta here with that shit! I’ll tell Phillip to stick his dick up his own arse and see if it feels good.

Ladies…if you want to get married before 35, you must help your boyfriend understand that the biological clock is ticking.

Not yours, his!  His muscular arms, broad shoulders, hard abs, and strong calves will last but so long. Before he realizes it, his metabolism will slow down and those abs will be covered up by the “dad bod”. His hairline will start receding, and his youthful pubic hair will turn into a salt and pepper collage.

How are you going to get laid when your beer belly is hiding your micropenis?

Eventually, he will need a hip replacement and new teeth. He will turn into his great uncle, Lester. Viagra can do only but so much…two pumps…then done.

He would be lucky if Tay Money turned around and spat in his wrinkly face with crowsfeet along the corners of his eyes. That would be the most action he would get from a baddie.

Warning: Once you turn ugly, even Peaches (the old lady up the block with no teeth) won’t suck your micropenis, not even in exchange of $500 worth of car repairs. She’ll be like “Nah, I can do bad all by myself” after dropping her dentures into a pile of dog shit on the sidewalk.

Men will pop the question REAL QUICK, once they realize that no one else will fuck them.

If he is still playing games, wish him well in his endeavors in trying to find tight, elastic, moist, pink vagina to hit and quit. Then get yourself a 30-year old sugar daddy!

Ladies, don’t be afraid to ask for what you want, when you want it, and how you want it. That’s the only way it should be!

What Is It Like To…Be A 30-Year-Old Sugar Daddy?

Where are all the 30-year-old sugar daddies?

Don’t front, I know you have a couple hundred thousand in your trust fund.

Why don’t you break me off a couple of stacks and make it rain?

Your rock-hard abs won’t last forever. Once you stop playing lacrosse, your sex appeal will drop ten points, and this pussy will cost you twice as much.

Bring that babyface over here, so I can sit on it.

Come save me from Lester, your 80-year-old great uncle.

He has a limp dick with saggy balls and can barely walk up a flight of stairs. Poor guy is going to lose his dentures trying to go down on me.

Bring your sexual prowess over here and “try” to outlast this vibrator.

Whatever you do, please don’t cum…

…Then ask me…

 …if I came…

…when you know…

…damn well…

I told you…

…not to cum!

(Roll eyes, drop mic, and walk away.)

What Is It Like To…Be A Klansman At Death’s Door?

Full Disclosure: I am a college educated, African American, professional woman living in the South. I am aware of the significant intergenerational trauma the KKK has inflicted on African American communities throughout the United States. I hope this joke serves as a cautionary tale for people who are participate in organizations that foster hate, terror, and intolerance.

We are all human beings. At the end of the day, we all want to love and be loved.

Enjoy the joke below.

Can you imagine a white, middle-aged man being part of the KKK in one small town, but driving two hours back into the town he actually lives in to eat his wife’s black pussy. Yes, I mean black pussy. No, I don’t mean a white vagina in blackface. I actually mean a black woman.

Let’s assume for the purposes of this joke that she is unaware that her husband wears white, hooded robes outside of the home, and of course, not inside the home, either.

Remember, I said “eat, black, and wife’s”, not mistress’s. He chose to marry this black woman. Yet, he drives two hours away put on a white hood and chant with pitchforks in the dark, chilly night. (I have no idea what actually happens at a Klan meeting.)

Let’s say, one day this Klansman gets into a horrific car accident. His car is ignited on fire and the only people who are close enough to help are… black people. These people don’t know who he is and are unaware that he is a Klansman. All they see is a human being who will die, if they don’t get him out of his car before it engulfs in flames.

What is this Klansman going to do? Say, “Don’t help me! I am part of an organization that facilitated terror and atrocities on generations of black communities!”

Nooo…This Klansman is staring down his own mortality as the fire continues to burn. The Klansman sees the Grim Reaper in his rear-view mirror ready to drag him into the depths of hell. There are only minutes available to help him get out of that car before it explodes.

What is this Klansman actually going to do?

He is going to scream for help and cry for mercy like the little bitch he is.

I mean, if the black people KNEW he was a Klansman, I wonder if they would risk their lives to save his…Hmmm….

Let’s hope, for his sake, that he is saved from the fire, makes a full recovery, and burns his white robe and hood.

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