I’m no longer much for double standards, gender norms, or societal roles. Left that nonsense in the last decade. Be who the hell you are. Fear no one’s judgement. Be restricted by no one’s opinion. If the lanes available to you will not allow you to be your 100% authentic self, create your own lane. Different beliefs aside, you have one life. Let no one limit your existence.
I prefaced with that call-to-arms to say this: I’ll talk about head, D, penetration, sex whenever I want to talk about such. I’ll wear a top with a V to my navel and my breasts high enough to hold my bowl of cereal. And let me tell y’all men something…
I don’t want to fuck you.
If you’ve ever spent a few minutes in my presence, online or off, you should know that I am completely me. I’m contradictory, contrary, goofy, but honest and forthright. When I want something, I say it. When I want to say something, I say it. If I feel like it, I curse. A lot. And yet my vocabulary is as expansive as it is profane. I have no problems expressing myself. Thus, if I wanted to fuck you, trust me, you would know.
But somehow dicks or dick offerings keep inundating my inbox.
I really wish I could take a leisurely stroll through the male mind sometimes. Discover exactly what is going on in there? Is the male brain designed to filter out information and details that do not support their pussy objective? Do men just really not hear when women are speaking?
I’m told often that I say things for women that some fear to say. And as privileged as I may feel to be that spokesperson, I’m annoyed that I’m identified as such. Because what I want most is for all women to be AUTHENTICALLY themselves. Be you. Say what you need to say. Demand what you want. Be not too proud to beg. Or rage. A friend of mine is dealing with heartache at the moment, and my advice to her was if you have to go through crazy to get to happy, go Left Eye crazy.
Men, when I say this, know that I say it with love, but fuck y’all. Honestly. Women spend far too much time worrying about what men will think if I do this, if I say that. If I admit I want him to eat his way to my soul, will he think I’m a freak? If I wear this dress, will he view it as an invitation? If I use vulgar language, will he not treat me like a lady? If I wear this pencil skirt, will he forget the initials that follow my name? If I follow my natural urges and stay with him tonight, will he respect me in the morning?
Will he…will he…will he. 😒
It’s as if there is something about a confident woman –unapologetic, unafraid, outspoken–that brings out a man base, conquering instincts. And for some reason, all those instincts seem to be in their pants. That’s my assumption because that is how they approach: dick in hand. I’m upfront about how much I like sex. I enjoy absolutely everything about it. Yet, I’m also upfront about my approach to sex. I’ve written about it here and here and here. Sex with me is a responsibility. Sex itself is a responsibility. But most men want the benefits but not the answerability. They employ an open door policy with their D but try to restrict what a woman chooses to do sexually. Listen…LOL Wasn’t nobody thinking about your dick anyway.
I don’t talk about sex because I’m not getting it. I’m not talking about sex because I am being piped down on the regular. I talk about sex because I gotdamn want to. I may write about it everyday for a week or I may write about the sermon I heard Sunday. I may not write a damn thing because I have an actual career that demands over 50% of my available time excluding sleep. Regardless, my yoni is private. What it does in reality is no one’s concern unless I make it your concern. And if you have to question if it is, it isn’t. I will tell you who I’m fucking, though…
Weekend Soundtrack: Keri Hilson – Gimme What I Want