June ends...

Good grief, it seemed like June just got here, now Independence Day weekend is literally just around corner. Time flies when you're having fun...I guess.

I really plan on blogging about our departed King of Pop, but that's going on my music blog, which I hope you guys will bookmark (http://cjwriterssoundtrack.blogspot.com). I'll just say right here that his death is probably the biggest of my generation. At about 2 1/2 years old, I was too young to remember when Marvin Gaye was murdered by his father, but much like the wind was taken out of my elders' sails when Marvin was killed, we feel the same way about Michael Jackson. He will truly be missed and his gift to us, his talent and his all around skills, will forever be a part of us and this Earth as long as humans are around.

I'm actually looking forward to getting a converter box so I can watch football and baseball on FOX, ABC, NBC and CBS this fall here at my house instead of sitting in the office after hours and on weekends if I want to catch something major. I need to apply for a coupon, but my immediate super gave me one of hers, and I just don't feel like explaining how I got it.

Twitter is an addiction. Follow me! http://twitter.com/CJStarchild.

I'm still rather lonely down here and really can't do anything about it, which sucks. I was reminded of something. While I do seek out advice, I do leave myself open sometimes for some undue criticism and I really don't have to deal with it, considering some of the sources. I am thankful for those who know what they're talking about, but I really need to weed out the ones that don't, SOONER rather than later.

Anybody have anything popping for this weekend? I DO! Laundry and DVDs. You're welcome to keep me company via my new addiction or AIM.

I think this is my 85th day of 600 sit-ups, which is mind boggling. Somehow, some way, I manage to get them all in, either before midnight or early in the morning when I get up. Either way I'm feeling a lot better and once I get walking back, things are going to be great.

And that's all I got, LOL...hope everybody's doing good.

Just a thought...

I know, I know, it's the internet.  There is some small degree of mystery when you log on and leave comments, it beats saying a lot of things aloud and/or in person.   But for me?  The last few entries, I've gotten some really bold-ass comments in anonymous form and it's irritating to me.  Again, this is my space on the web, a place where anything goes as far as opinion, and I understand that.   But if you're going to snidely suggest that I go seek help like I'm some kind of a lunatic, then have then have the heart to put a name behind your comment.  This goes against me trying not to care what people say or think about me, but the disrespect just touched a nerve with me today.

To the smart ass from New York with free air flowing between their legs from the last entry: If you've read my blog for any amount of time, you will know that I have tried the internet as far as hooking up - in fact, that's the only way I've been able to converse with women.  And it hasn't worked out for me, hence these blog posts.  As far as therapy, it sure takes a lot of courage to pop fly about somebody you don't even know, without a name attached at that.  Grow a set or grow up.

/End Rant

Sex selections, Or "Why Chris doesn't get it as much as he'd like..."

In spite of an insane start to it, I'm having a pretty good week, so let me say that this post is not fueled by anger or bitterness, just the reflective and honest spirit I've been blessed with.

I've noticed among the news feed on my Facebook homepage recently that people are really re-examining how they feel about sex these days. A lot of people are wondering if it's still cool to be casual, being cautious about hook-ups, or going extreme (quitting hook-ups altogether or going full steam ahead). You'll see status updates about "is this cool?" "Can it still be done?" "Why/how do people choose the partners they chose?" It's made for some very interesting reading, and of course, self-evaluation and reflecting.

So I've been thinking: Why am I such a horndog? Why do I say "sex or GTFO?" Do I even care? Why won't women give me what I think I want? Well, here goes...

I won't underestimate adult entertainment as part of my state of mind when it comes to sex, but my real problem lies in what my feelings are as far as a true statement of caring, loving, liking and affection goes. It's probably the weakest, pettiest, most childish, immature, lame and sorry-ass excuse out there for any guy, let alone a grown man in his late 20s, to think about, but it's my reasoning all the unfortunate same: "If women liked me, they'd sleep with me."

Yeah, I said it. I've said it to countless women before, more than 98 percent of whom have either laughed themselves into oblivion or were visibly hurt by that statement. It happens. The reason why I use it is simple, but two-pronged.

Number One: From my observation, the better a guy looks, the easier it is for a woman to fall. The majority of women that have shot me down have cited my physical appearance as a reason they wouldn't even talk to me, much less get wild with me. Those more attractive cats, more often than not, use their looks as the bra-strap snapper, the panty dropper, and really, I don't fault those guys for that. Zora Neale Hurston once said "Those who aint got it can't show it, those that got it can't hide it." So when not-so-tall, kinda dark, heavyset, proper-sounding me comes along and wants more than just a "church hug," I'm usually met with derision and shocked attitudes. Which brings me to Number Two:

I don't feel like I offer much. Even though I did the whole Bad Chris/Good Chris entry a few weeks ago, I still feel like the things that supposedly draw women to men are not good enough because I don't have the physique and/or the face to go with them. Women still want "Tupac with a degree," to quote one woman that was on the Tyra show a while back. The degree part I have. Pac or any other reasonably sought-after celeb type I will never be. People can swear up and down that looks don't matter, but unless your blind, that's simply not true. No one ever looks at an unattractive person and says "damn, I want to see what they're about."

On to the caring part, I've met women who have wanted to start off as friends only to pursue affection and intimacy in another man's arms, and that's what bothers me the most. The conversation usually goes something like this:

"Well, you're smart, funny, nice, so let's be friends and see what develops. Friends become lovers." WRONG. Friends become me sitting at home alone while guys with better bodies and facial structures have women bent over and spread wide. Part of it is my inability to have any semblance of a patient nature. If I don't get what I want, when I want? I've written you off. That happened like three times in the past six days alone! I guess the whole building thing is coming back to haunt me.

I once said that guys are like sports general managers: You have guys who are patient, willing to build up to success, while a lot of GMs feel the need to win right away. I've fallen into the latter category and it's really bothering me that I'm not getting the results I want.

Finally, what is it about sex that has corrupted my line of thinking? Well...I don't get as much as I want. I didn't go there until after high school and after I got started, it became something that I wanted as much as possible. So I've stepped to just about every woman (save for a few real friends) with the intention of getting it in. It hasn't worked but a handful of times, hence my disgust. I wish I could explain what it is about the act that has me feeling the way I do. It's a feeling of being wanted, being lusted after, being sought, being good enough for a woman to want to give her body to you. I guess I just explained it.

Either way, I'm just trying to figure out where I am and if I need to change anything in this respect. I'm always open for suggestions, so feel free to speak your peace.

Pet Names and the thoughts they inspire....

If anyone listens to mainstream urban radio, then you know where this entry is coming from, so it's not totally out of left field, LOL...

Twista's back in our public conscience (not only because he allegedly knocked up porn star Pinky), with his new single bumping on the radio, called "Daddy." Now there was a time, at least in my mind, where that was totally acceptable, for a woman to call her man or *ahem* FWB that name. However, seven years ago a video surfaced that not only confirmed my suspicions about R. Kelly being a dirty dog, but singlehandedly ruined a pretty good pet name. I'm sure we all know the reason why.

On a related note, I remember being extremely upset in junior high and high school because among all the other insults I got thrown my way, the emergence of the Notorious B.I.G. as rap's next big thing got "Biggie" thrown my way more times than I can count. Instead of embracing it and turning it into a positive like Big did ("hearthrob never/black and ugly as ever/however, I stay coochie down to the socks...") I ran from it. Now, I find myself wearing shirts around the house with "Big" all over them. "Big Dog," "Big Daddy," etc., so it seems that I can finally quote the hook with confidence and not be ashamed anymore - ladies, "I love it when ya call me Big Poppa!"

In all seriousness, the power of pet names can never be understated. More often than not, it's something that keeps a relationship fresh and passionate, no matter how silly the name. Pet names give personality and an identity to that special person in your life, and it's something the two of you can share. For me, I haven't had that experience for the most part, but I can tell you, I'm a sucker for the classics. If a woman calls me "honey," "sweetie," "baby," or even "boo," I'm pretty much under the spell.

"Boo, you think can we rob a bank?"
"Hell yeah girl, where's my gun?!" Relax folks, I don't own a gun, nor am I interested in doing so.

"Sweetie, can you go get that pitbull off our yard?"
"I grab a dog, and I choke him! All day long my foot up a dog's ass, just BANG BANG BANG up his ass! That's my PLEA-SHAH!"

"Baby, I know you haven't eaten Macaroni and Cheese since 1986, but can you try mine, please?"
*AAAAAARGH NOMNOMNOMYUMYUMYUM!*

Now, before you go thinking "aww hell, Chris is a simp," I am NOT that weak for affection from the fairer sex. This is the kind of stuff reserved for a true relationship, not a girl just trying to get favors from the kid. There's something comforting, soothing, erotic, passionate, sensual about a woman who cares about her man and calls him those things with sincere feeling behind it.

It's one of the most powerful things a woman can possess - the power of sweet talk. I won't dare call it a lost art, but I will say part of the problem in relationships is that folks can't be sweet to each other anymore. It's easier to just talk at someone rather than talking to them. Giving nicknames and pet names to your significant other makes them feel like they are special to you and will do anything for you within reason because they know you'll appreciate it. Same goes for us, fellas. There's nothing soft or effeminate about calling your lady those names. Of course, babygirl's a plus in that situation because women LOVE it. When I figure out why, I'll get back to you, LOL...

So don't be afraid of the pet name. Create it, embrace it and enjoy it. And don't call me "Daddy." UGH.