The Finch Formerly Known As Gold

12 February 2006

O brothers, where art thou?

It's true that you never go back, says Susan Crain Bakos in the New York Press:

I am sure there must be some black men who aren't good in bed. Personally, I have not experienced one who isn't. (True, I am not dating down the socioeconomic ladder, but I didn't do that when I dated white either, so the racial comparisons seem valid and fair.) They look better than white men, they touch and kiss and make love better than white men. Statistically, their penises are only a fraction of an inch bigger on average, but they seem bigger and harder.

White men over 40 have lost their waistlines and their zest for life — if they ever had it. They carry resentments, grudges and extra pounds in their basketball bellies. Perhaps a good part of that bloat is unhappiness. Even the thin ones look flabby somehow and deeply aggrieved. They nurse the smallest perceived slight longer than their double shots of Scotch. Surely our culture as much as biology turns them into softer, spongier, less-interesting versions of their youthful selves just at the point where women and black men and other minorities are emerging strong. Society overvalues the white man, leaving him angry and bitter when he realizes, around age 40, that he's not all that.

Personally, I figured out that I wasn't "all that" around the age of nine; the flab came quite a bit later. (The anger and the bitterness, well, that's another topic.)

And really, this fits with something I've been saying all along: women have a template for what they're looking for, and another one for what they're not looking for, and they wield them with micrometer precision.

Besides, this explains Barry White better than anything else I've read. (Don't believe me? Imagine any Barry White record sung by an actual white guy, and admit defeat.)

What I missed from the Bakos article is any suggestion that she's eventually going to give up the dating game and settle down with one of these gentlemen, but maybe that's just projection on my part. And I'm not going to suggest that, say, Maureen Dowd could get her groove back with a Taye Diggs type, but weirder things have happened.

(Via Michael Blowhard.)

Posted at 9:46 AM to Table for One


I've been thinking of writing a song called, Everybody Wants a Different Kind of Meat.

The lady here is missing the point. Interracial sex is always more exciting. It's forbidden.

The rest is pretty much a crock... the usual feminazi crap.

I retaliate in kind against these girls. I give them the back of my hand and cuss them out every chance I get. What's good for the goose is good for the gander.

And, of course, I find white women to be complete failures in bed. Give me a Filipina any day.

Posted by: Shouting Thomas at 10:38 AM on 12 February 2006

Well, of course the white men she dated didn't measure up (ahem) -- they're New Yorkers.

Posted by: McGehee at 12:53 PM on 12 February 2006

She's not looking to settle down, Chaz, she said as much - she doesn't seek the "marrying type".
I've seen a reversed scenario: had a coworker once (I was 30 and she-45 at the time), a black woman just moved to NY from Alabama. She was clutching to every white male appeared in her field of vision, regardless of age, appearance or communication skills; more so if Gail had a couple of beers. She was an embarassment in a bar - guys veered off like from a plague, left and right. I've never heard such bad marketing spiel; basically, it consisted of "Nice bar. Come here often? Seen here many girls like me? Wanna try something spicey?"

Guess it doesn't really work both ways.

Posted by: Tat at 4:20 PM on 12 February 2006

If you're looking for black guys you'll end up with...black guys.

Besides, an an overweight (though not as much as I used to be) past-40 white guy I resent her comments: I do not nurse my slights with Scotch. A really good grudge requires no alcohol at all.

Posted by: John Salmon at 4:06 PM on 13 February 2006