Looking at a picture of your delicious physique
The tender chocolate wrappings that cover your sweetheart
So intense, is this feeling to plunge inside your wetness
To feel your warm
To feel your tight
To feel your soft
To be cupped into your embrace
To feel your moan travel through my ear canal
And make itself a home in my mind….again
I imagine the unimagined pleasure taking form in your face
Because I miss it
I miss your love for the pain when you squeeze me into you
The affectionate type of animosity
The whirlpool motion in the hips
Twirling profoundly into our centers
The thrusting….like clashing magnets
The bonding of opposites
The opening of you
The hugging of me
The altitude of orgasm
The pressure in the eyebrows
The stretching of the jaws, and the tremble in the legs
The helplessness that dances with ecstasy
The clenching of the teeth
The reaching without moving a muscle
The volcanic eruption of cream from your inner cave
The white rivers
And yet I still I stroke…swim…back in
Decorating my thick and long with your warm, liquid snow
All of these thoughts pour from my ocean of perversions
And I leak them here
Because I was afraid that I would offend, so I pretend
That these thoughts never exist when I speak to you
Instead of being in heat for you, and letting these thoughts drip from my tongue
I’m frozen within, trying to hold myself together
Like a gentleman
But I’m melting….
^^^First off…wow….she’s beeeeaaauuutiful. The shape of the eyes, her hair, her skin tone, and her fabrics. Seeing the subtitles really makes this disheartening…which sets the tone for this post.
I was absorbed in a jaw-dropping, eye-widening documentary called Whores’ Glory by Micheal Glawogger. First off, I applaud the director for being so objective and unbiased. There’s balance in the movie. There’s no nudity until the end, and the focus seems to be the testimonies. It can’t be easy to extract so much information on such a popular topic. Next, I love how all of the commentary was from those being interviewed – it gave the film more realism without added explanation, and created a closer relationship with the topic.
So, I was scanning through Netflix seeking something refreshing to the senses – something that would give me a different type of pulse. Then, I graced across this documentary which begins with the prostitution culture in Bangkok then curves over into Bangladesh, and then finalizes in Mexico. I stamp each reality as captivating yet nostalgic. In some places, like Germany, prostitution is just a regular job with occupational hazards. In others, it’s the consequence of coercion and poverty. While the director didn’t give clearer distinctions between the two, he still captures the oddities and the business-like ambiance. It’s eyebrow-raising to see the blend of religious beliefs with the profession; maybe because it’s unexpected. This reality seems to be spoiled with controversy, but it’s sensible. When you’re in the trenches of such obscenities, you’d seek to solidify it with a foundation of morals rather than a quicksand pit of chaos. Observe their living conditions that overshadow their dreams and you witness the boisterous cues of a scuffle for survival. You still notice the hints of humanity in this murky realm – one that seems to be the bastard of a patriarchal society. This reclusive community provides a service that’s enslaved to scorn and shame. Yet, all the while the women are abandoned as they supporting each other. There are even traces of a stern, elderly mother-type acting as a beacon of wisdom to stabilize the frustrations of the women. She counsels them. She nourishes them with soft-spoken, harsh truths. She hugs them, rubs their shoulders, and wipes their tears. And after receiving some revitalizing compassion, they’re shunted back on stage – one that assumes the form of a prison. Some of these stages are elongated concrete boxes with transparent windows. And in them are dolled-up beauties with assigned numbers pinned on their chest. Some of these stages are crumbling hotels, while others stomach the resemblance of actual prisons. Certainly, the dystopic environment invokes depression as you witness these women showcased in the standardized materialist fashion. Displayed like merchandise as clients shred them into objects of pleasure with their razor-sharp, lusting eyes. However, there’s a low tone of dignity and respect. There are rules. There is a self-preserving philosophy branded in the hearts and minds of these women.
He’s purchasing a few minutes of pleasure with the body, not your soul.
Most whom are intimate with this industry know what love is; furthermore, they acknowledge a higher power. The center of this entire schematic is money: the main ingredient which offers bittersweet zest. Each girl cradles their own ambitions and fantasies. But in the other palm rests the uncompromising weight of barter for their bodies for survival. You hear personal accounts of the types of clients they encounter. Some speak with a light dew of remorse about their production numbers: 1-5 clients a day. Others flaunt their production numbers ranging between 15 to 20 clients a day; and they express this proudly. But these are old numbers spurting from older women reigning in their forties. The struggles of a has-been litters in all professions, it seems. As a surprise to some, it is common for these women to have boyfriends and husbands who are very aware of their discouraging job. This suggests that the local economy lacks jobs to supplement better living. Some families are pressured into this form of servitude with burdened mothers selling themselves…or their daughters for a year or more.
The clientele incorporates a plethora of men of various ethnicities and races whom express their reasons in partaking in this forbidden fruit. Few speak of sexual abandonment from their spouses, while the majority concisely strut their insatiable sex drives and their infatuations with bizarre erotic acts that girlfriends refuse to charter. The prostitutes expound on the personalities of their clients exposing the educated and uneducated, the wealthy and poor, the gentlemen and the assholes, the family guys and the bachelors, the boyish virgins, and the experienced seniors. We can imagine the many pains that come with delivering service. The girls protested how some d!cks are too big in girth and length, how others are flaccid (which means more time spent with the client than desired), and some take too long to orgasm. Some men come in drunk and reek of cigarette smoke that’s as stale and harsh as their attitudes. Some are fat, some handsome, and some with missing limbs. The women were very blunt in expressing their philosophies of the business, which are very comprehensive if you permit them. I empathized with all of the elements of this machine: the prostitute, the client, the passerby, and the attendants (somewhat like a salesperson/pimp – they get commission for sealing the transaction), and even the beautician. There was even a thrust of awe when I observed that this profession was indiscriminate towards males as well – barboys are what they’re called in Thailand. Some of them are gay, while others are bi-sexual. Yet they share a common platform of being handsome, clean, warm-hearted, and professional. All of these real-life personalities….enchanted in this net of unapologetic commerce. And then we have the spectators….us….in the bleachers….blasting cold-shouldered fouls and divisive commentaries; adding our ignorance to this concoction of sugary-staleness. We say things like “I’d rather die than resort to this level of existence” or “you’d never catch me in living like that” as we chase our toxic judgments with socio-economical and religious rhetoric. Some of us would even jeer and joke about the reality as we rest securely in our own. It’s easy to speak about a solid reality from a faint, moist realm of imagination. Yet, when you’re under the lens, and you’re imbued in their circumstances, your motives become slightly warped. Environments inspire character. It’s similar to being incepted into a dream. You’re teleported to an unknowable location surrounded by stimuli, and above all, you’re seeking to fulfill an unrealized purpose. It seems that there are more ways to die than there are ways to live. The odds lay a barrage of punches which corner you into the crevices of this business. Either you choose to submit or you keep fighting aimlessly in hopes to discover yourself as a victor.
Most of us would rather take a beating from the odds than to surrender….
Let’s keep in the forefront that prostitution retains a competitive nature as any business. It’s easy to get in the game when you’ve networked with the right people. It’s hard to leave when you have nowhere else to go as most of the prostitutes have murmured. A spectator could assume that their souls have been sold, but a businessperson would correct that assumption – materials are sold; a soul cannot be.
The prostitution business is the trafficking of human sexuality for money; and this opaque depiction of organized carnage is justified by causality. Whether you’re religious or educated, you’ve gained a whiff of knowledge about the historical imprint that prostitution has made in religious scripts and social studies. In Bangladesh, one guy explains that the absence of the local brothel would pilot the men to the point of raping the women due to their enslavement to desire. Other options are homosexuality and bestiality, which are actually taboo worldwide. He furthers the justification by saying that it provides a service especially for the families who have no other means to provide for themselves economically.
I ponder: would the collective’s existence be better if the matriarchal order was enacted? Many writers, historians, and anthropologists would say yes, since the Paleolithic Era held women in higher esteem than men. Men were deemed as interchangeable workers and seed-providers, while women crafted technology and art. Sounds like a reversal to me. But I’m digressing here. The intention is not replace consequence with a scapegoat. This is actually just a call for compassion, and maybe even appreciation. Maybe this call may inspire our triune selves to love each other a little more with less judgment…..at least for a couple of weeks. Maybe it’ll incite more judgment…(shrugs)
Personally, I’ve even had a first-person experience as a customer. I speak that with little shame because I’ve accepted the fruits of the decisions that led to the experience. I know what I did and why I did it. I remember even paying for sex and just engaging in conversation (and friend of mine was like “pfft…only you would do that!”) because I knew how cold this business is. I won’t cast this off as a decision of stupid youthfulness. I dove in with intentions, and I surfaced with a deeper compassion for women in this profession….and the consumers who support it. Most could say “John you could’ve done better”….and I could’ve done worst; it all depends on who’s measuring, anyway. No regrets, here; and I speak that proudly.
This documentary acted as a reminder of how enslaved we are to corporeal desire as we excavate the material world of resources to new limits of profanity and profoundness. The dreams of others create nightmares for many who endure an indefinite life sentence of antagonism.
How uncanny it is to love money till you reach the finish line of exchanging it for the love that you lost….and the love that you never had
For the love of money, but for the will to survive….how deep are you willing to go?
Ultimately, I just wanted to recommend this documentary for anyone interested in something a bit more dark, real, and extreme. Lemme know your thoughts if you’ve watched it (110min). My next movie will be the 2nd of the director’s three-part globalization series titled Workingman’s Death. A reviewer claims that it will make you more appreciative of your job as it expounds on the limits one would push in order to earn income.
We were lounging on the balcony of my hotel room
We soaked in the sounds of the ocean waves
The evening was as cool as our mood
Yet the THC in our blood streams excites the sexual magnetism between us
The coffee table cradles our Legs, which are half as elevated as our sensitivity
We felt a pull in our centers
Pheromones pollute the air in the best way
Cottonmouth behind my lips, yet her pussy lips were wet
Her thighs rubbing against each other
Clitoris now extra sensitive, gently rubbing against the satin-like material of her thong
She ponders “damn, I wonder how big he is!”
She hides her smirking
I observe her
Appreciation fills my heart to the brim
My imagination is visited with an image of my warm hand sliding up her thigh to cuff her ass
My other hand pulling her close into me
Her giggle interrupts my mini-movie
“….what are you thinking about John? And um….be honest” , she grins
I stare biting my bottom lip
My heart quickened
“….it’s sexual….and truthfully, I’d rather show you what I saw, rather than tell you”
Her face lights up ecstatically….
She shies her eyes into the distance of the dark sea
Temporary Silence, and a Loud Longing for each other penetrates the moment like a Syringe to a Bubble
She glances back at me
“…..what are you waiting for? I’m right here”
I sway over to her chair
Her eyes lower, chest rises, back arches, and legs open
Her wet Cocoa Flower gave rise to a mesmerizing funk that danced with my senses
It was like hearing your favorite song for the first time
I basked in her scent as the image of us sexing replays from its beginning
The edges of her dress ascend like “the show is about to begin”
Seating my lips on hers
Preludes our heavy breathing
We gasp for air as if there was a vacuum between us
Into each other, we’re absorbed…..Mentally
She pulls from my lips and tells mine “Lets go to the room”
“Yes! She wants this as much me”, I whisper in my mind
I tug her inside
Clothes fell like Meteor Showers
She pushes me on the bed – Mounted
All the while, I admire her slim physique
Wide hips with a chocolate apple bottom
I smack it – it Waves like a Waterdrop to a Pond
Perky breasts with dark nipples eclipse my eyes
I grope her waist, she’s gropes my chest
Fingers removing my underarmour boxer briefs
Again she straddles me
Reaches for my large log – she tugs and strokes lightly
She stares back at me
Smiles metamorph into a biting of bottom lip
It’s a sign that she approves
Her back arches; my helmet kisses her pussy lips
She slides it across her wetness like a slip’n slide
Her pelvis flexes
My stiffness digs deeper
Sliding in smoother and faster
Jaws Extend like Bungie Cords
My inner voice speaks “damn I never knew pain could feel this good”
She speaks “I know, right?”
She can feel my thoughts….and I can feel hers
We didn’t even speak as the ocean continued to whisper in the distance
Body’s move in synchronicity like two snakes dancing
Heightened moans, rising higher after each breath
Overdosing on pleasure
My emotions say “It’s too much….yet I can’t get enough”
I’m confused, can’t think because Euphoria has drowned logic as my dick dips inside her ocean
In rhythm and grooving to the sounds of soothing waves
Our bodies become fluent with their language
Grinding harder, thrusting deeper as my tongue and lips envelop her nipple
Message of pleasure above my chin
She moans and grins; louder and longer
Deep breath, exhale
Inhale, inhale, inhale, inhale
Big Bang – Explode; she collapses on me
No stopping, I grind on
Motion got slower but intense
Cool breeze swiftly hugs the sweat beads on her back and on my pecs
She slides off
D!ck looks like it was Dipped in Toothpaste
She plants her face in the pillow
Bubble Butt is Elevated like she’s Making a Toast
I mount behind
*Thut, Thut, Thut, Thut, Thut, Tap, Tap, Thut*
Slapping my Meat Stick on her cheeks
Then Slip n’ Slide between her pussy lips which spoke a light, reverberating flatulence
The creamy juices blend with the air in her tender pink cave
As my thickness squeezes the air out
The sound of her holler is a concoction of pain, surprise, and relief wrapped in pleasure…..
Each stab exalts a sound that cracks the silence
And then…I begin to feel like water
Pleasure pulsates from my groin and echoes through my body to the top of my head
She rocks back and forth
Her tender brown bubble butt slaps my thighs
Pleasure pulsates so violently that she cries
Unbearable delight that made her cream uncontrollably
While the Supernova in my groin reacts from the synergistic sauce of arousing imagery, tantric sounds, boiling aromas, and the bubbly sensations
And then…. I pulled out….
…..squeezed and held…..
…..a milk stream expels and lands on the smooth of her cocoa rump shaker
“Breathe, jerk, relax” << said no one but that’s what my body did
She knows I finished
“Don’t move…lemme clean you up”, I utter
I recollect my pearl-like deposits with a napkin; observing her thighs as they resemble rapid micro-quakes
A Coo-like purr is what she sounds off with
Our eyes square off, and our smiles stare at each other until they hugged up close
The ruffling sounds of ocean continues permeating the silence
Her appetite remains conscious as mine
We reach within each other again moving beyond our first taste of the alchemy we cook up
The Jedi Returns with some of that relationship verbiage to stimulate your nerves. Say “word”.
So, I was doing a little webSight-Seeing, and my mouse tagged-teamed with my keyboard in escorting me to the singleblackmale.com. I skimmed through a few topics, and then through a few lines. Effortlessly, I discovered a jewel that was excavated from the sands of another. It went a little something like this:
“What do relationships and occupations/jobs have in common nowadays? Lack of loyalty.”
As usual, I do my best to share my thoughts and discoveries on Facebook because I care. It’s because I care that I’m a Care-Actor in this Movie we call “Life”; Featuring you, the Reader, whom are all relatives of the God Family. And as usual, when I request information from avid readers (loving family members), I get few responses. So, to compensate for the lack of dialogue, I decided to do a monologue – A figurative monologue in which I express a true to life concept in the form of a metaphor. And if conversations are synonymous to sex, then yes, consider this as masturbation. You’re free to watch for now, but please, give me a hand when I finish…..
…..I meant that in a form of applause!!
Personally, the thesis is true for me. I do view my interpersonal relationships under the same scope as I view my business relationships. I treat jobs like my women, sure I may flirt with a few others; I may even look. But when I’m with you, I’m with you until I’m ready to leave. In the words of the Songstress Sade…”Sometimes love has to let go”. I don’t NEED a job to complete me, nor does a job define me. I desire a job, just as I would desire a woman. With a keen self-awareness of my capabilities, a personal list of credible references, and an impressive resume (experience), jobs and women are replaceable yet as valuable as I am.
So, on Facebook, I conveyed that there are “careers”, which you are passionate about (you’re in love), and then there are “jobs” in which serve as a means of “security” (love, but not in love).
Note: In this allegorical philosophizing of mine…I will be exchanging the gender roles frequently because I am a strong supporter of Equal Opportunity. <<< Did you see that? Job….gender roles….Equal Opperrrr..…never mind.
Think about “careers” as marriage material, and “jobs” as boyfriends and girlfriends. The severity of each is determined by the choosey lover. See, for some of us, it’s preconceived that the job relationship is temporary, as in “this is the best that you can do.…for now”. Ladies, this is the boyfriend that came about while you were at the job fair (the club). Gents, this is the chic your homeboy put you on since he works there (he smashed that a few times…or is still smashing), or maybe he knows someone on the inside (someone ELSE is hitting that). For both of you, maybe this relationship is all you know. Whether it was the result of low self esteem issues and childhood repression, an overdose of complacency, or lots and lots of B.E.T….you may be settling. You may have reserved the idea that there’s no room for promotion (potential). You may have embraced the reality that there are a few good men (jobs) in the pond (town/city) you’re fishing in. You’ll take what you can get, and you’ll appreciate it; and soon, you’ll even propose. Some of you may live the rest of your years as Bitter as Scrooge McDuck (minus the money) because you’re obligated to a job (mate) that you didn’t truly desire. The pay is low; and there is little or no intensity in the relationship – meaning it doesn’t challenge you. The job f!cks you over and over in the same positions. The boss is inexperienced, and is also an asshole. And everything is beginning to become predictable. But check this; there are some people who consider these “working conditions” as their ideal relationship. These are the type of people that spend years devoting their love to a job only to fall in love AFTER much investment. This wasn’t love at first sight; this was the discovery of glory in simplicity. And if it serves, it definitely deserves a tip. But let’s not Jump the Broom just yet….let’s start at the beginning.
“First Dates are Interviews” said Van Wilder, and although some of us aren’t accepting Applications, and some of us are using every advertising medium that we can to offer some employment. And after placing your best foot forward, and hiding the other directly behind it through means of ankle crossing, you release a sigh of relief. You got the job. Starting new jobs are as refreshing as new relationships because everything is…. different. Adjusting can be problematic, because we fear the unknown, but in the land of the blind the optimist is king; otherwise, she’s a queen. The objective for most of us is to hold on to our “loyal subjects” because there’s a sense of security there, and security feels good. In many cultures (Chinese, Indian, and Arabic, for example), marriage is based on security – guaranteed love. Economically speaking, job security = guaranteed health/welfare and financial support. Most human beings are comforted by words like guarantee, obligation, responsibility, and dependability…especially when we are on the receiving in. All in all, you have to ask: “Why are are you with him/her (job)?” Is it because she’s dependable/reliable for the time being? Is the work ambience orgasmic? Do you actually LOVE your job? Do you see potential in her/him? And what do you call the people who are working 2-3 jobs? Is this the product of financial ambition aka “I Get Money”? Is this Workaholicism at its apex? I heard it’s the leading cause of death…..I mean stress. And you know when you stress, your sex drive sky dives – not in a bold and adventurous way either. Metaphorically speaking, they could be labeled as…ahem… polygamous.
But in this context, is it wrong to have more than one job if you have the time and energy to commit yourself? Well, it’s neither right nor wrong – it’s about benefits and risk – which is how we approach most situations in life, including our relationships. You see, some employers don’t care what you do, or where you work outside of “company time”…(clears throat)…quality time; while other employers care what you do outside of work due to the potential conflicts of interest. I mean, we have background checks for a reason right? I hope you ask for a Carfax report before you buy that used ’98 Chevy with 78,034 miles on it. I hope you hit up that Facebook page, and at least read the history of their wall posts, peep their friends list, and check out those pics. I hope you don’t judge a book by its cover; but, read the Title and read the Summary on the back cover. Be careful who you trust/invite in your circle, right? Most of us have very valuable reputations to preserve in order to evolve. It would be contradictory to the Capitalist minds of Wal-Mart and Winn-Dixie, if they shared an employee, whom happens to be on the payroll for Food Lion. By the way, the Capitalist mind is a competitive one; ego stroking is a must.
So, is this a form of cheating? Is this form of behavior considered disloyal if you’re looking for something better, which you know doesn’t exist in your current relationship?
Let’s consider the Dirty Jobs in this world. Yea, the misfit occupations that make us go “hell naaaaaah, son!”, and “I’d rather die” and “ewwww”, and “May God have mercy on your tormented soul”, and all the other humorous dysphemisms out there that signify rejection. Yes, I’m still referring to people that we don’t wanna date, marry, nor have sex with. Although we say that some people settle for less, there’s a flipside – there’s somebody for everybody – I think. If it weren’t for the underachievers who are simple minded yet dutiful and appreciative, McDonald’s Fries would be marketed but never served. The toilets at Applebees would like an uber-expired Nestle Crunch Bar that’s mistakably considered “art”. The architects of the world would never see their blueprints manifest physically. And those diamonds that you gave your ex-girlfriend on V-Day ’06, which she pawned for 2 Benjamin Franklins in ’07, well let’s say you would’ve had to go to plan C: write that corny a$$ song you had in mind (with your non-songwriting a$$), and devise a Pseudo-Hallmark card.
….basically, relive 2nd grade. Or maybe that was me.
See, I understand that everyone isn’t conditioned to be the CEO of Dynacorp. I understand that some of us are over-qualified for the security gig at the Holiday Inn. I understand that some of us hate getting dirty – so archaeology, agriculture, construction is not going to be our first choice. I understand that many of us scoff at recycling, sneer at energy conservation, laugh at the electric car, and smokes cigarettes, so Environmental Specialist may not appear like marriage material. And some of the stereotypes have some truth – Black people are afraid of Space Exploration and Deep Sea Expeditions because our Security Blanket is much, much warmer. But, in every job, glory can be found. Even if you’re a$$ is Bouncing in a Gentleman’s Club….
I meant the Bouncer…not the Stripper!!
But aye, it’s a job. And not everyone can see the beauty in the Pole Dancing art form. And yes, it is an art form – Google the history, people. Research is vital to truth-seeking. Stripping is separate from Pole Dancing. So to the Christians out there bashing Pole Dancing…..(pauses)….never mind. Anyway, however you depreciate the Stripping occupation consider this: T-Pain was in love with a Stripper…once…or maybe a few times.
OK, OK! Many of us go into these relationships (jobs) with hope that we will find ourselves there. It’s not always about the money ya know? Buried beneath our Earth-like exteriors are souls (or maybe it’s outside holding things in – ever thought of that?) that are looking for that job that will makes the self feel alive. We’re all looking for that special someone that makes us feel purposeful. That job that’s like a Handle-Squeeze from Febreeze…(sniff, sniff)…ahhhhh….that’s right, I’m talking about that World Famous Mystery that we call the Dream Job. I’m talking about a real career. I’m talking about that job that you’re so passionate about, that you’re not even considered working, you’re financially, physically, emotionally, socially, and spiritually secure to do what makes you feel like God!! Oh, what a Job!! You wake up, excited to go to work – and yes, it’s because someone is there that you adore…YOU! But on that note, some of us don’t know what that job is because we truly don’t know ourselves. Many of us cruise through this vehicle we call life, chasing this dream job only to wake up in a day-mare that was forced on us due to the aftermath of bad choices, embracing familial/tribal professions, cultural influence, movies, and….television. And there are a chosen mass of us that are inspired to walk in the shoes of our predecessors, and travel further and beyond just for show. I’m not a relationship guru, nor am I a career consultant, but I’ve got some experience…well, wisdom, rather. I understand that there are people who prefer to be unemployed. And those are the type of people with Lil’ Wayne’s “I’m Single” in the CD Player/iPod…..on repeat. I understand that some people are also Widowers; they’re Retirees. And every day you hear about someone who got Laid Off i.e. she Dumped yo Ass! And equally important in all relationships, we reserve the right to preserve our sense of identity; sometimes we Need Space. Whether it’s to reinvent our self, or because the nature of the relationship requires a reevaluation, this phase is destined. Depending on the nature of the request, that could mean: Suspension, Emergency Leave and Vacation. Kind of like a Time Out. From what I know about loyalty and love, you should never betray yourself; not even for the loyalty of another. In my eyes, to betray your self is to betray the world – to be disloyal to yourself is to be disloyal to the world. Your suffering is contagious – we’ll use up our Sick Days messing around with you!
Personally, I’ve had 1 girlfriend named Hardees – we dated in ’99 and broke up in ‘02. After her, I got married to U.S. Army. We divorced 5 years later. After her, I remarried to Logistics Solutions Group after having being single for a couple of months and having a couple of flings (metal fabrication -3 mos and marketing -1 month). Then I was single for 3 months until I married my 3rd wife, Combat Support Associates, for 11 months. We divorced, but during our Separation, I got engaged to The Logistics Company – now, we’re newlyweds. I must say, in all of my relationships, I’ve always left on good terms. 2 weeks notice and sh!t – gotta give em time to replace the irreplaceable. It should be that way when we conclude our relationships – closure – it’s sort of like a performance review in which you can gauge yourself. You never know when you may need to come back.
Plus, I’ve had a pay increase in each – I must be choosing the “right ones for me”.
Here’s a secret of mine: I’m in love with my music! Through all these relationships, I’ve always had my music. I’ve been loyal to her no matter how many times I neglect her…she’s always there, waiting for me. Music is wifey material; even though logistics is my….type. Guess you can call me polygamous. Or maybe I just value open relationships (shrugs).
Overall, the best advice that I’m gonna donate in relation to jobs, careers, and relationships – find yourself first!! Then you’ll know the difference between flings, soul mates, friends, sex partners, fantasies, and marriage material. Your dream job is a reflection of who you are. Your job is just something you do (like sex).
But hey, don’t just swallow what I’m serving. What do you think? Is the thesis true for you? Do you share my view? Do you need a job reference? Are you hiring? What’s the benefits/job description/job requirements? Who did you fire?
So, I was doing my daily blog jog (where I run through a few blog sites for inspiration), and I came across one about platonic friends. Of course, this topic came up at a convenient time for me because I’ve been questioning my motivations for one. I think I’d be doing myself a great service if I explain my standards and viewpoints on platonic relationships…with the opposite sex….to myself.
First off, I do not deem it impossible or detrimental to have platonic relationships (with the opposite sex or someone you’re attracted to). And even if I did, you’d summon the stars, the planets, and an army of well respected politicians and lawyers to present your case and belittle my opinion like a Sarcastic Mother to an Insecure Juvenile. I’d be such a victim.
Personally (as John Skywalker), I don’t prefer to maintain a platonic relationship with the opposite sex. Now, here is where the train of contradiction starts chew-chewing away at my previous statement. I do reserve exceptions to my loose yet strict preference. But, before we tackle that Little Piggy in the Muddy Waters of this topic, lemme serve you a bit of asinine justice for my preference. Romance is a lot of work. I look at romance in terms of a heart that donates, transfers, and accepts blood using the veins and arteries that stem from it, in order to make my love circulate to a few commitments. I can either reserve my love flow for myself (which exhibits selfishness), or I can invest my Oh-so Positive Love towards bodies in need. “Bodies in need” is a conditional phrase – everyone needs love, and although I’m (we) are infinite in love, I do get exhausted and overwhelmed. So, I have to manage my relationships wisely. There are vampires and zombies in the Land of the Lost, you know. Essentially, I’m on a mission to practice unconditional love; and it’s a lifelong process. Although I have some self control, it’s very distracting to have a single, intelligent, goal-oriented, spiritually-inclined, practical, independent, physically attractive woman….as a friend. It’s a conflict of interest. It would be like guarding someone else’s chicken fried steak (with gravy), augmented with mashed potatoes, sweet corn, and a biscuit…
……on an empty, growling stomach….
Ohhhh, the agony! The suffering! The inhumane torture!! (Licks lips)
What’s my motivation? Why am I preserving a delicacy that I view as an off-limits indulgence?
I’m not neglecting the possibility of me being her friend; this is a matter of probability based on desire and purpose. I guess I’m being my extreme self again – one way or the other. I’ve been in the friend zone before, so the “Nice Guys Finish Last” doctrine is one I’ve practiced a few times prior. I even have a Collector’s Edition T-Shirt. I don’t feel grudgingly about this approach (because I gained wisdom for the opportunities), however, it really sucks to limit your love simply because someone doesn’t feel you like that. But, when they get hurt by the bad guy that emanated so much animal magnetism, charm, and lack of emotional security (which you warned them about by the way), best believe you’re getting a text message, a FB message, and a phone call (not necessarily in that order) and even a knock on the door so you can play Therapist! Of course, your sentimentality will nudge you in the back to yield because seeing another in pain is never a pleasant sight to the sympathizer. You can’t say “I told you so” because you’ll look like the Heartbreaker’s Advocate. So, yes, you’re being selfish through the whole “friendly” experience because you know what you want, yet you couldn’t get it due to your value for respect and invitation. It’s just one of those relationships that require a defined motivation and mature spirit. Ladies, watch “Just Friends”; it’s funny, but the experience is a sad testament for the nice guys and gals of the galaxy.
(Cracks Fingers…[here, Piggy-Piggy])
Now as I said previously, I do retain some self discipline, given that I’m objective about preserving the nature of the relationship. As in, we’re collaborating for a short term goal that’ll benefit us both long-term; in that long term, we’re not physically in each other’s lives. When I mention “collaborations”, I mean those that are business-involved, artistically mandated, or socially impactful. Overall, it’s for a greater purpose other than our selves. She can’t be faulted for looking so damn good in our Batman/Catwoman dynamic to save the world. In this case, the motivation is unselfish, and easy for me to follow.
Another instance is proximity. This is sooooo convenient for me! I can type and talk my ass off (I’m a conversationalist), and with proximity as an obstacle, the relationship has little intimacy. The luxury of technology, ah! Granted, I can override these obstacles like an Airborne Superman on a Tricycle, but I set my boundaries, and abide rationally. A pro to this aspect in the platonic relationship is the emotional commitment as being minimal since we’re not “hanging out”. It’s less taxing when there’s physical distance between the two of you. Contact is circumstantial rather than a consistent basis. Most of my female platonic friends are in the United States, and they’re out of physical reach (since I reside in Kuwait). I have a lot of social networking friends that I chat with online; the relationship is cordial, open, yet the security blanket of proximity makes it easy for me to adjust to.
Another barrier is if she’s physically unattractive, and is a work in progress. This includes character flaws. At this point, I’m playing the coaching role. No, she’s not a charity case, she’s an unblossomed flower. I’m just the sunlight and the rain. I’m a resource to aid in her evolution so that she can spread her wings as the fallen angel that falls in love. This is sort of like the first instance, because our relationship is more for my development as a spiritual guide (in a friendly sense), and her development as a human being. It’s a collaborative effort for a greater, long-term purpose outside of our little circle. Again, I could reap the benefits of my labor, at the time of harvest, but as paradoxical as it may sound, it’s a conflict of interest to my primary motivation. I’m simply aiming for the Best Supporting Actor for the Best Actress in a Leading Role. This role is a resume builder for my future interactions with my chosen mate. Again, my boundaries are set and I abide by them rationally.
The last instance (that I’m going to list) is if she’s already committed to someone. In this case, I’m completely turned off. Sure, I’d glance, hell, I’d even fantasize a few times (because my imagination just can’t shadow the possibilities) but…I’d NEEEEVER make a move. If I see a ring on her finger – automatic turn off. I initiate my Blind Kenshi Nice Guy defense mechanism (it’s an approach), and I act as if she’s nonexistent. All systems are in evasive-mode. I respond accordingly and cordially if she approaches, but I ensure that I give off the energy of a “loner type who doesn’t wanna be bothered”. It’s a defense mechanism (one of many) to keep me structured and secure. I’m not a fan of love triangles; although they’re entertaining, they’re not all that fun, personally. Drama films (for me) are at their best when I don’t have a part to play in them. They entail a lot of miscommunication and chaos, with a medium slice of guilty pleasure that’s oozing with regret dripping from the sides. They sometimes have happy endings, but everyone doesn’t survive the movie. It’s overall…a sloppy served dish with a bitter sweet taste. Unless you’re the Lara Croft of relationships, have a fetish for being victimized (masochistic), or is obsessed with victimizing (sadistic), I’d meditate on peaceful images and invest in romantic comedies on Blu Ray and DVD (unless you still own a VCR).
I understand that there are many cases where individuals are flirtatious. This interprets that a person has a desire for multiple relationships, each with different levels of intimacy. Flirtatious people are usually engaged in “open relationships” with individuals who are secure in who they are. Most of the time these relationships have romantic objectives; they’re looking experience a certain aspect of love that’s not found in one person. This is not gender-fixed. The masculine and feminine psyches operate differently, and for good reason. Women often think of the benefits of a masculine counterpart through prioritizing their interests (security, uncommitted intimacy, noncompetitive in mating, resourceful, fun, warmth, openness, etc), and although men value those same benefits, their priorities are different. What OFTEN register’s to the male psyche first is sex; the others trail behind like a Squad of Blindfolded Army Soldiers in Basic Training. Sometimes they get lost out in the field, and sometimes they manage to stay in cadence – one behind the other. As men mature entirely, flexibility is more pertinent to the male psyche, which gives women a bit more room to inflict their mastery of persuasion. SOME women manage to not be so misleading and ambiguous. SOME manage to reveal their intentions at the first bus stop before Greyhounding into foreverness as platonic friends. And surprisingly enough, there are a small percentage of males who pull these same tactics on WOMEN!! (gasps)
Now, I question if my personal boundaries, in this matter, are a thunder cloud of flatulence from my ass-hole persona of an ego. My perception is quite biased and paradoxical, according to my “unconditional love” mission. However, they seemed justified. I know one female who has surpassed the obstacles I listed above, and yet I still befriend her….almost intimately. She qualifies for all three of these categories (loosely), and yet I’m violating my boundaries. The best defense mechanism I have is proximity. But it makes me wonder, what if I didn’t have that – I’m not sure that’s a Drama Film I’m willing to rent! Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, and I’m just exaggerating my fear of the unknown. What am I defending against… rejection? Conflict? Or maybe I fear that the nature of the relationship will be compromised. Or maybe I’m afraid to be vulnerable. How many times have you heard “I won’t hurt you”, and then 3 weeks later you stop calling her (or him), and you act as if they’re Brand New…in a bad way? You can’t love unconditionally and fully if you’re invulnerable; the spoils of vigilance. And forgiveness is hard work….
…if you’re out of practice.
A random but valuable mention is “She’s Out of My League”. It’s a mildly funny movie, but it’s definitely geared for those who are a bit shallow in their perception of relationships; self esteem issues and sh!t. Some people like to be around the good folk because they’re “safe”. Aint nothing wrong with that, but please….pleeeease let your emotional body guard know why he’s on your romantic payroll. Communication is vital to the survivability of a relationship.
I guess I can conclude that although I’m well equipped, I’m reluctant to engage in a male-female platonic relationship. Although this type of relationship would still compliment my “self love conquest” since I’d have little or no emotional commitment to the female. The level of intimacy would have to be established and reinforced with purpose and reason. This is all probably an inflated idea of mine that’s a euphemism for my fear of being “played” or “used”. If that’s the case, it’s an insecure perception that’s devised by my ego. Therefore, this could just be my ego’s attempt at limiting my love conquests in exchange for lustful ones. Regardless, I’m honestly indecisive of the matter after much explanation and contemplation – it just depends on the nature of the relationship, and how I feel about its direction.
Why be so objective about this when I’m ignorant of the future conditions? (shrugs) So I guess I’m as Open as Trey Songz’ Dress Shirt on Valentine’s Day.
Not sure if a Dog in the Backyard with a Bone would Dig it….but it works.
We know that platonic relationships CAN work, but DO they work for you? And are you considerate of your platonic candidate’s intention PRIOR to you initiating a friendship? Or do you assume based on the openness and friendliness that they share your views? Nonverbal behavior can be misleading.
And what about the effects of platonic relationships on committed ones? Is it fair that you invest energy in platonic relationships outside of your committed ones? Is commitment a good idea if you’re so vested in maintaining diverse relationships?
How do you feel about people you’re intimately interested in that have multiple friends of the opposite sex? Do you investigate, and risk becoming a number in his army of platonics (a possible visage for “sexual partners”), or do you abandon friendSHIP?