Logic vs. Typical Thought

The thought process between men & women are highly different, obviously.  Men are typically “do’ers” while women take pride in being “thinkers”.  The lines are kinda blurred because, well…both of these aspects are generally 50/50.  Neither sex is actually smarter than the other & each individual operates differently.  This is common sense, no?  Of course it isn’t.  I can’t stress enough how much of a believer I am in logic/common sense.  It’s probably the most important characteristic ever because, well, if most of us used this tool wisely, certain parts of life would not only make more sense but would also operate much more smoothly.

Let’s take a look at three instances where common sense/logic should overcome the typical thought process…

Let’s say you meet a girl (or guy, whichever applies).  You exchange numbers & begin to talk/text a great deal.  You enjoy their conversation but realize you’re not the only guy (or girl) that they interact with.  There are two ways your mind could travel:

Typical thought: she/he is a ho.  They’re tryina fuck with everyone of the opposite sex they speak with & I have to compete with everyone for their attention but I won’t because I’m the most important person in the world.

Logic/common sense: people have/make friends out of different situations.  It’s rude to typecast a person based off of what I think versus what I know & I probably shouldn’t let my emotions get the best of me.

Make sense?  It should.  People interact with other people daily.  One’s intentions don’t fit everyone’s.  For instance, when you go to the bank, do you immediately think of robbing it?  I’m sure some do, but not everyone does.  Same goes with people.  If you’re talking to someone & your situation is cozy, that doesn’t necessarily mean they speak to everyone with the same manner.  Most people just have a habit of negative thinking & it spoils possibilities.  If you’re that curious, try asking.  Next scenario.

Kim has been hurt by two Aquarius men in her life.  They were bad relationships & she has vowed to never date Aquarius men again.

Typical thought: a person’s sign determines what type of person they are…because every person from every sign is the same.  #TaurusSeason

Logic/common sense: I shouldn’t even have to explain this one.  Everyone’s different, yet we all mostly have common characteristics.

People’s actions, thoughts & demeanor generally are a makeup of various things…usually spanning from how they were raised to their personal experiences.  I’m a Virgo, for instance.  People generally don’t know this unless I tell them because I have different characteristics that make up my personality.  I also share characteristics of my parents, whom neither are Virgos but are smart people who pushed me & my brother hard & made us look at life from more than one angle.

In other words, I could have been born a Cancer & still have the same exact characteristics I have now.  Astrological sign doesn’t mean shit.  I got into a debate earlier with a friend of mine who said “I’m bipolar, it’s the Gemini in me” & it’s sad that people think this way.  I explained to her, from my point of view, that she’s “bipolar” because she acts before she thinks & when things don’t go how she expects, she flies off the handle.  She then proceeded to tell me I think like that “because I’m a Virgo”, which is absolutely retarded because I’ve known her for years & am basing what I said off of me watching how she takes things without thinking first.  That would mean that everyone who jumps the gun is a Gemini.  Let that sink in for a second.

Last scenario.

Michelle wears low cut shirts to show off her huge tits.  Men cat-call or stare at her chest often & it makes her uncomfortable.  However, if you look at her Instagram photos, she has provocative pics everywhere.

Typical thought: men are dogs.  All they want to do is fuck.

Logic/common sense: if you don’t want the attention, stop dressing like you want the attention.

I mean, seriously.  I’ve heard a lot of women say they show off their assets to make other women jealous or because they like the attention.  So…you want the attention, but you don’t want the attention…?  Or is it that you only want the attention of someone you find attractive?  Well, that’s not exactly how it works.  You see, you’re trying to use sexual prowess mixed with the fact that most men think with their dicks.  Bad move.

If you throw a piece of steak in the middle of a pack of wolves, what the fuck do you think will happen?  Here’s a thought: be proactive to your emotions.  If you want an attractive guy to notice you, try talking to him.  Your vocal cords work the same as ours.  Why the fuck do we have to do all of the talking?  Having your tits out hoping 1 guy out of 500 notices is absolutely retarded.  If you don’t want the attention, wear unflattering jeans & an extra large T-shirt.  See how many men hit on you then.

My point is, I wish more people used logic/common sense than the seemingly small pool of us that do.  I have faith in humans but typically everyone wants to fit in with specific groups so they adopt their ways of thinking & lifestyles.  I don’t think there will ever be a time where the general population thinks for themselves again.

As a free thinker, this saddens me.

- Hype (@_maliante)

“Where The Hoes At?”

Quite fucking frankly, I’m sick & fucking tired of being asked this question by degenerate ass dudes with no other reason for leaving their homes than to chase pussy all…the fucking…time.

It never fails.  I’ll be out somewhere with the intent of having a few drinks, listening to music, checking sports scores & being completely away from any stress free environment, when I’ll notice someone I know either by themselves or with a few others & eventually wind up speaking to them.  The same three fucking questions are always asked:

Them: What’s good fam?

Me: Shit, chillin…having a few drinks, relaxing a bit.

Them: I feel you.  You still work at ____?

Me:  Nah man, I haven’t worked there for (insert time frame here).

Them: Ah, shit.  Damn nigga, where the hoes at?

Listen, I don’t know where these hoes you motherfuckers constantly seek confine themselves to.  Obviously they’re in another location other than the establishment we’re currently in.  Do I look like a Ho Whisperer to you?  Sure, I dress decently & conduct myself in such a manner that women engage in conversation with me, but I don’t indulge in “ho hunting”.  It’s not my thing.

On another note, I understand why dudes seek out hoes the way they do in some cases.  That means…not every aspect of the advocation I’m about to extend applies to everyone.  In other words, this is not a “get out of jail free” explanation for you dickheads that get caught cheating on your girl or to use as ammo to bag the bad one you’ve been checking for.

Hoes are emotionless.  They don’t want anything but attention, dick & nice things.  Usually they expect them to come in that order.  Some men actually try to walk the straight line & settle with a gorgeous chick that they feel comfortable being themselves with.  However, after being dissed in front of his/her friends so many times, the “fuck it” sets in & they no longer want to put themselves out there only to look like an ass at the door.

Hoes provide a false sense of confidence.  They’re known to go after dudes that LOOK like they have something positive going for themselves.  It’s damn near entrapment.  So of course after being turned down so many times by chicks with their noses in the sky, typical guy “fuck it…might as well get this easy pussy” logic sets in.  After doing whatever he wants with her & it’s completely accepted, he’ll usually tell his friends about his experience & of course they’ll want in as well.  It’s an imminent cycle until the inner bond is broken & someone gets pissed off & fucks up the whole operation (see nudes exposures, sex tape releases, etc.).

My whole shit is, if you like to fuck, then fuck.  Just be safe & discreet about it.  Personally I don’t like sharing or knowing a whole bunch of other guys you’ve slept with, so “ho hunting” isn’t my thing.

I’m in no way condoning these actions, I’m simply saying I understand.

The After Effect

I know…usually I’m drunk ranting or looking at things from a different perspective, but today I felt like writing a bit.  Shit happens.  I actually should be writing my book but I had a conversation with someone & my mind went elsewhere instead of listening to their bullshit problems.  Enjoy.

I laid there, emotionless, staring at the ceiling as she slithered out of bed and searched for her underwear.  I looked over at her briefly as she grabbed them from the floor and slid them up her long silky legs.  I couldn’t help but wonder what I was doing here.  Scratch that.  I knew exactly why I was here, obviously, but to what result?  She’s 41, married with two kids and her relationship with her husband is more of a task than a union.  I’m barely 27 and should be sneaking out of a 20-something year old college girl’s bed as she sleeps in a drunken stupor.  Somehow I’m okay where I am, but then again, I’m not.  We’ve done this numerous times but tonight feels different.

“Are you alright?” she asks, pulling my t-shirt over her head.

“Yeah, just thinking…” I replied, adjusting the pillows behind my head.

In my mind, I was taken back to the day we met.  She was on the treadmill at the gym in my neighborhood, a completely different side of the city than the one housing the family in the photos of this bedroom.  I couldn’t help but notice the way her yoga shorts hugged her curves, especially with her ass sticking out like a tourist’s hand attempting to hail a cab.  I’ve seen multiple guys approach her only to turn and walk away with their heads hanging.  She had approached me and asked me to spot her while she used the leg press, which seemed awkward, but I agreed.  A wave of lust consumed me as I firmly held her hips and watched them in motion as she exhaled deeply with every rep, but I kept my composure.  I’m an average built guy…there are many muscleheads in this building.  Why me and not them?

During our workout, which was mostly her doing numerous exercises and my following her around like a lost puppy, conversation flowed and she asked if I wanted to try a new juice bar she had heard of.  I agreed but wasn’t aware that she meant uptown, which was completely out of my way, but fuck it.  After replenishing our energy, she informed me that she lived close by and I could shower at her place if I wanted — a gesture of gratitude for skipping my plans and accompanying her 30 minutes away.  I reluctantly agreed and we walked about two blocks to her brownstone.

She told me I could shower first as she’d wind up using all the hot water and asked if I wanted a sandwich for after.  I nodded and made my way upstairs to the door she had directed me to.  I hopped in the shower and began to zone out, letting the steam and water pressure lift the fatigue of the day’s activities.  That’s when I heard the shower door open behind me.  I turned, looking over my shoulder as she stepped in and traced her fingers down my back.

We fucked in the shower — an aggressive game of body tennis where I served her and she returned every stroke.  I could tell she hadn’t been fucked in some time, as her body tightened and responded as if she needed what I was giving her.  We then moved into the adjoining bedroom, still wet, removing all of the sheets and unnecessary adornments from the top.  She came twice more and I matched my first from beforehand.  As we laid panting in our mixture of shower puddle and sweat, I glanced at the wall, to which the professional photo of her and her family stared me right in the face.

“You’re not gonna get all weird on me about that, are you?” she asked, still attempting to catch her breath.  The ‘oh shit’ feeling came over me and I began to feel like a prick…more because I knew how it felt to be cheated on than because I didn’t even bother inquiring her relationship status at all today.  She gave me a brief rundown of their fucked up marriage — how she knew he had a girlfriend in Jersey who may possibly be pregnant…the whole nine.  Since this was recent findings, he had apparently agreed to let her have her fun without asking questions until they were ready to settle one way or another.  So, here I am, obviously.

“What are you thinking about?” she continued, sliding back into bed and laying her head on my chest.

“Things, I guess.  It’s been six months now and I could help but wonder how everything’s gonna play out.”

“Ah…” she exclaimed, running her fingers along my abs.  “You’re in the ‘after effect’…”

What The Fuck Is Wrong With You?

Now, before I embark on this rant of sorts, I’ll start by saying the things I’m about to bring up don’t necessarily adhere or apply to all women.  That should be common sense but I’m aware not everyone is a card carrying member of that club so fuck it, better safe than sorry.  Also I’m not a misogynist or “He-man Woman Hater”…none of that shit.  I just truly hate stupid people.  Seriously.  I get headaches interacting with them.  I’m also aware that men do some of the same shit I will be mentioning in these next few paragraphs.  However, I’m not attracted to men, nor do most males represent me in any way, so my fucks about them are at a bare minimal unless their actions affect me.  So yeah…let’s talk for a moment…

I had the pleasure of speaking to someone earlier about wants vs needs.  A female friend of mine, actually.  & before you bring up “we don’t all” whatever, refer to what I said in the first paragraph.  Anyway, we were talking about relationships, traditions & the like when a sentence of hers basically punched me square in the nose: “I don’t need any man that can’t make decisions on his own & doesn’t have xyz in his name”.  Yes…imagine the blank look on my face.  I’ll explain.

First of all, we were talking about dating.  Not marriage.  While I agree that both genders should be responsible, I also know what it’s like to struggle.  I’ve been at the top and the bottom.  It ain’t as easy as some people make it out to be to live a stable life via words.  As far as “making decisions on his own”, that’s apples & oranges.  Some people actually like hearing their significant other’s opinion, just as some rely on them for everything.  It’s not difficult to determine the difference between the two if you actually listen & pay attention besides when it benefits you.  So again, not every guy is the same mentally, as not every female is.  You can’t really base your current experience off of your past.  This is why I believe in dispelling a certain comfort level in relationships.  Once one person gets too comfortable, they start feeling like they run shit.  Usually it’s women.  It’s portrayed in numerous sitcoms for a reason.  So when said woman finds a guy that’s not having her shit, it becomes a problem after the initial few months.  Go ahead…look at your own past relationships & remember what arguments over what took place & prove me wrong.  I’ll wait.

My point being, people don’t have realistic expectations of mates in 2013.  Men want maids, cooks, a constant supply of head, etc.  Women want a financial staple, a constant supply of head & someone to do what they want when they want.  There’s no sensible equilibrium anymore.  It actually makes me feel old noticing the change in the past 10 years & I’m still in my twenties.  Everyone’s idea of what relationships should consist of or be based on seems to be some deluded form of what they want from themselves that they forget your mate is supposed to be the things that you aren’t.  How the fuck can two people that are exactly alike complete each other?  Two squares will never make a circle.  You have to compromise.

I’m not saying date a bum ass guy who doesn’t want to better himself.  What I am saying is realize that everyone isn’t the same.  Coal makes diamonds.  You’ll be surprised at what you may find if you step off your high horse & get your hands a little dirty.

“You Look Like You Only Date White Girls”

Ah…more stereotypes.  I was actually hit with this nonsensical bullshit less than 24 hours ago by a “typical” stereotypical Black female.  Before I continue, let me describe her as best as I can so you’ll see where I’m coming from.

She’s about 5’3, chubby build, unattractive in the face…at least to me, a weed smoker, loud, ignored her kids during our visit — they were literally jumping off of the furniture onto each other as she took hits off of a blunt; she had dreads that looked as if someone slowly unraveled a hemp rope…generally, she was a hood rat.

Now with that out of the way, maybe you can understand my anger because this happens often.  Also, I’m multiracial…which means whichever way you’d like to stack it, any relationship I have would be interracial, so there’s that.  My mentality and personality doesn’t equate to the typical males these types of chicks are used to being around, so I kinda get where the assumption comes from — I’m rather laid back and I enjoy stimulating conversation.  I’m much more likely to open up and take an interest in any female with certain qualities that match my own.

It’s obviously expected by a collective of lower level track minded Black women that if you’re a Black male of sorts (be it light, dark, piss yellow or durag shade), you’re SUPPOSED to be attracted to every Black female that crosses your path, or you obviously only date White chicks.  Never mind the fact that there’s Latinas, Asians & other cultures.  Nope, if it ain’t Black, it’s White.  To make shit worse, there’s no real way to prove them wrong unless you happen to have a sex tape of yourself dicking some Black chick down in your phone.

Moving forward, to dispel said comment, no…I don’t only date White chicks.  I have dated Black chicks in the past, although my last 3 relationships have been with either a White or Hispanic female.  I’m not even sure what someone who only dates one specific ethnicity looks/acts like…so for one to assume as such must mean they know something I’m unaware of.  That’s not a call of naivety either…I’d like to think I’m intelligent because my parents gave enough of a damn & didn’t want me to grow up being a fuck up.  So yes, I speak different languages, have an extensive vocabulary & see/do shit a lot differently than initially expected.  Has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that i’m versatile.  Although the “nigga” does come out often…it’s not a prevalence as far as I’m concerned.  So maybe that’s it.  Because I’m not a “nigga” 24/7, it’s assumed I have no interest in Black females.

I enjoy shit that a small number of Black chicks that I know or have met (take note of the emphasis) are familiar with.  Music, for instance, is an uncommon ground usually.  I like bands like Maroon 5, Taking Back Sunday, Fallout Boy, Sleigh Bells & so forth.  Why?  Because they make great fucking music.  At some point in my life, I got tired of the direction rap constantly goes — guns, selling drugs, fucking bitches; so I decided to give other shit a try.  Having a musical background (I’m a rapper/producer…I know right?  Typical “nigga” shit), I appreciate lyrics & concept.  Branching out fulfilled that need, so I progressed into searching for more.  I still listen to rap, but again, lyrics & concept have to be present.

The same goes for women…I branched out at some point, & just as I still listen to rap, I still find Black women attractive.  Hopefully you’re smart enough to see the metaphor.  All in all, the assumption is wack.  If she’s attractive to me & we vibe well, I don’t care what her ethnicity is.  I’m not gonna date a specific background to appease anyone.  Fuck outta here…

And This Is Why I’ll Never Try Anal

Fuck no.  Never will I.  Not only do I feel it is a completely homosexual act, but it’s unnatural and absolutely disgusting.  Save your “it can’t be homosexual because you’re doing it with a female” pep talk too.  If that’s what you must tell yourself to make it more convincing, that’s your battle, not mine.  There’s a perfectly good vagina right there to indulge in.  And don’t bring head into this either to support your faggotry.

Anyway, on a particularly more interesting site than Twitter, I was reading a thread about fucked up one night stands and this particular post floored me.  You absolutely MUST read the entire thing.  Sure, it’s long and you probably have the attention span of a gerbil because it’s not shiny, but do so anyway.  It’s not a bunch of unfunny Twitter posts, however, MUCH more entertaining:

Back when I was in law school, there was a girl, M. M was a wholesome gal from Wisconsin: blonde hair, blue eyes, a slight gap in her front teeth. A real girl-next-door type (in the traditional, non-porno sense). She grew up on a dairy farm.

M was what we called “law school hot” — late 20s (and just starting to show it), slightly pudgy, finally trying harder to dress professionally than to dress sexy, generally attractive, but didn’t really stand out in a crowd. Her biggest asset  — literally — was her awesome rack. To quote Fight Club, they hung enormous, the way you’d think of God’s as big. Her daddy would have been lucky to have a milk cow endowed like her.

It was the end of our first semester, which for new 1Ls is a huge deal. (The stress during the initial year in law school is tremendous; if you’ve ever seen the movie Paper Chase, it’s 100% accurate.) The tradition at my law school was for everyone to saunter over to the bar a block away after their last exam and hang out. M and I had a friendly relationship up until that point, so when I saw her walk through the door, I waved her over and she joined our group of about ten or so.

At some point — prompted in part, I’m sure, by large quantities of booze — we of course started talking about sex, and because one of the guys with us was gay, the topic of anal sex came up. After a bit, M admitted that she had never tried anal. I was drunk and and feeling saucy, so I said, “We should rectify that.” “*Rectum*-ify,” she giggled back, and at that moment, I decided to put all of my drunken intellect towards coming in her back door before the night was out.

After a few hours our group was dwindling, but some of us were determined to continue celebrating for a while longer and M was looking like she was ready to head out. She needed to eat, she said, and was running out of cash, too. We still had about 3/4 of a pizza left, and I was trying to convince her to stay, so I offered to buy her next drink if she’d stick around.

When I came back with her drink — something with tequila, I believe —  she turned to me and said, “I shouldn’t be eating this, I’m lactose-intolerant. I hope you’re happy, because I’m doing this for you.”

After that round, more people headed out, and M couldn’t be persuaded to stay. But I wasn’t ready to give up, so I offered to walk her home, since our apartments were next to each other, and only a few blocks away.” When we got to her place, she invited me in. We went through the standard fooling around routine, ending up naked and horizontal in her bed.

Emboldened by earlier conversation, M’s apparent enthusiasm, and a large dose of alcohol, I eventually suggested that we try anal, and M agreed. After some shuffling, we ended up with her on top so that she could control the depth and speed, and for a few minutes, I was happily watching M’s magnificent mammaries jiggle around while she gingerly bounced on my rod.

After a few minutes, her expression switched from drunken sex stupor to pain and fear. Assuming I had hurt her somehow, I began to push her off of me, but she told me to wait. Sudden pressure and heat on my tool tipped me off to her digestive distress, and I could feel something trickling down my balls. I started to get up again, but she said, “No, please. Stay inside. Just for a minute.” I protested, but she was panicked, and begged me to help her to the bathroom before I pulled out.

We flailed around for a moment, and awkwardly switched to doggy style. We tried to shuffle to the bathroom, but drunkenness, the physical difficulty of the act, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all meant we didn’t make much progress. In a moment of inebriated genius, I hoisted her up by the hips and suggested she walk on her hands.

It turns out that wheelbarrowing a crying drunk girl across her apartment with your dick stuck in her ass isn’t particularly sexy, and a combination of internal pressure and my rapidly deflating member caused what is probably best referred to as an uncorking.

I watched in slow-mo horror as a fountain of diarrhea blasted out of her butthole, point-blank into my crotch. Spattering my torso. And my arms. And my face. And I dropped her. She hit the ground, hard, sobbing. The smell — like wet garbage in the hot sun — hit me. I was painted from waist down with her special brand of brownie batter.

I was in shock. I just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at this poor girl, suffering the world’s worst case of mudbutt, crying on the floor of her shitty apartment, shit oozing out of her ass, shit dripping off of me.

But as horrible as the sight and the smell were, the worst was the sound. That sound will haunt me for the rest of my life. No language on Earth can approximate the cacophony of her crapping everywhere. It was a combination of the juiciest fart you can imagine, someone snapping gum through their teeth, and the glug of a water cooler. That sound blared above all, the way classical music plays during the hero’s against-all-odds rush into death in war movies. The sobbing was a distant drone, almost outside my notice, but the burbling of her bowels was deafening, in perfect sonorous clarity.

I must have stood there for maybe 10 seconds, but it felt like an hour. In a daze I pulled my pants on, then ran out the door. I mean ran. I sprinted. I left my shirt, my shoes, my socks, my boxers. All of it was abandoned in my mad dash to get home. People on the street saw me, but I didn’t care. I ran the 100 yards to my apartment door, past everyone, and I threw myself in the shower, and I cried.

Nope.  Never…ever…trying anal.

Fuck This Shit…

Where do I start?  I truly believe I was born in the wrong time period.  My personality & mindset doesn’t fit the modern day bullshit of 2013.  Maybe at some point I mentally matured past 90% of my peers.  Or, maybe that same 90% are trying to keep themselves relevant while I struggle with reality.  At this point I’m not completely sure.  People come in all forms & think millions of different ways.  I’m slowly learning to accept that.  I say “slowly” because there are certain aspects that at some point have made me want to physically harm people because of their opinion.  No, I’m not crazy…the shit just seemed that idiotic to me.  But they stood by it, no matter how illogical or nonsensical it may have been…they stood by it.

You see, I’m a firm believer in logic & common sense.  Now, some astrological nutsack would be quick to point out it’s because I’m a Virgo.  That’s not the case.  It’s because growing up, I had people around me to teach me to look at shit from different angles & make the best judgment.  That has nothing to do with being a Virgo.  That has EVERYTHING to do with people instilling values in me who AREN’T Virgos (seriously…not one) but also had common sense & used logic.  Out of everything they’ve ever given me, I thank them for that.  I couldn’t imagine being the average dumb ass without a sound thought process.  Yeah, I said it.  A lot of niggas are just dumb as fuck in many aspects & I’m glad I’m not one of them.  Take it however you will, but it’s the God honest.  That doesn’t mean there aren’t dumb women by the way.  Only an idiot would think like that.

Many things piss me off, & if you know anything about me, you’ll know I used to have a really REALLY bad anger problem.  That’s the main reason I dislike social networking sites.  They’re practically the breeding grounds for morons.  Take a look at all the screenshots & see for yourself.  I have a hard time being around idiots & there’s no “off” button with social networking…ESPECIALLY with 140 characters. All that aside, I can normally keep my cool when I’m faced with things I don’t particularly like.

If you’re in a spot where you’re happy & deem yourself successful, cool.  Good for you.  Your prestigious degree & subsequent job at that Fortune 500 company makes u feel good & that’s awesome.  However, not everyone wants that.  Some people are content working at Subway & living with 2 roommates.  I’m sure neither of you have much of an effect in each other’s lives, so why does it matter?

I constantly see dating preferences thrown out.  “A man must have this & that & be willing to do this & be this”.  I NEVER, EVER see “as long as he genuinely loves me for me, I’d be willing to help him figure out his life where I can”, & that’s what pisses me off the most.  Everyone feels like they’re the authoritative figure on how someone else’s life should be.  Of course, in what you’re reading at the moment that includes me, however from MY standpoint I’m trying to get you to think outside of the box.  Think on a different plane for once.

Once you open your mind to different options, you’ll notice how much more clear shit becomes.  Try it.  You just may learn something about yourself from new experiences.