The Black Man…

…That Taught Me about Positive Racism…

Hello readers! Sorry I’ve been delayed on my posting this week, I was busy watching my country slowly unravel at the seams after the Brexit. I don’t want to get into politics on this blog, its reserved for the important issues like penises and bad dates (I did vote Remain in case your interested). What I will say is that there has been a marked increase in racism, well its being reported on more at least, and people are blaming this on the xenophobic Leave campaign. I thought I’ll add the tale of my racist views I had, its always good to be topical AND it involves penises and bad dates (two birds with one, just really sad stone).

Before we do start, quick disclaimer: I really hope I’m not offending anyone, I promise I’m not racist (I have SO many black friends… Jokes, Tumblr is my only friend). If you are upset by anything I write then… whoops? I have the upper body strength of an anaemic frog so I’ll be easy to beat up.

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My favourite fighting stance…

 

On with the story! So this all started with this weird obsession I used to have with wanting to sleep with someone of every creed/nationality/colour (like a really fucked up bingo card), before I settled into my spineless lap-dog men phase. I’ve said before but just to reiterate, I am NOT a role-model, this blog is supposed to stop you making my missteps, be the good date I’m not my children. Since then I have learnt that sleeping with someone just to put down some more faces on your ‘Guess Who’ game of nationality fucking ISN’T a fabulous foundation for dates (enter noodle dick), I am still missing Eskimo though…

A while ago I began meeting up with this guy from London, we’ll call him… Kane? I’m having a hard time with this one, lets just settle on Kane. He was one those ‘smother you with flattery’ types who call you lots of lovely things except your name, which I have long believed is so that men find it easier to date more than one person at once (He may call us all beautiful but we are in no way snowflakes). As you’ve probably gleamed from the title, Kane is black, congratulations Sherlock… and at that point of time, Kane filled a spot in my rather tragic collection of ethnicities (ugh that was embarrassing just writing that). I was all ready to become the creepiest museum curator and add him to my hall of partners but it turns out Kane didn’t need much persuasion on that front (surely because of my wondrous looks, but reality Sam thinks it was because hes a man whore), and we soon arranged a ‘Netflix and Chill’ night.

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My film choice was a very subtle nod to my intentions…

 

After arriving at Kane’s house it was pretty clear we weren’t even going to get to the Netflix portion of the evening, which really is a shame because I still haven’t watched Jungle Fever (one day Wesley Snipes, one day…). He was already topless and didn’t even give me time to do my coy ‘oh you thought we were having sex’ act. That was probably a good thing because I usually spend thirty minutes waltzing to that tune, getting impatient and just angrily declaring that its ‘intimate’ time (I like my messages like I like my cocktails, mixed and delivered by hot men). Instead he jumped right into the making out which after so many men inviting me over for ‘cuddles’, ‘chats’ and ‘movies’, it was refreshing for him to dispense with the first hour of small talk. His foreplay was alot like his flirting, very generous and cajoling, I might not have been the only person Kane was seeing, but he was amazing at pretending I was…

Now for years I have been fed information which has led me to have certain ‘expectations’ of black men’s dicks, all of which is very… positive (If the white devil has a salami, then I’m expecting to see at least a pool noodle if you catch my drift). Personally I blame everyone, TV, Films, everyone… the problem with a positive stereotype is there is less effort to dispell it, plus you don’t see men lining up to say “Actually sir I have a tiny rod I’ll have you know”.

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Most men’s reaction when you say 6 inches is average…

 

I pulled down Kanes pants and was utterly disappointed… After years of hype I was expecting to get whiplash from the force of it hitting my head, but all that came out was a perfectly normal penis. Any other time I would of been thrilled to have a fully functioning and non-patchy dick in front of me, but this turned out to be the moment I realised I was an inadvertent penis racist. We still had sex, I’m not a robot after all, and after limp dick and chatty I was positively thrilled to have decent sex (albeit with a polygamous man whore, but after the cock-ring debacle I was just happy for someone to actually get inside me). I left feeling slightly hollow, but this time it wasn’t because my partner was terrible, it was myself for getting wrapped up in my own African fever dream. If Kane had been a white guy then I wouldn’t even bother writing this article, nothing is funny about “yeah I went to some guys house and had great sex”, but I’ld let my nationality bingo and prejudiced ruin it for me.

Top tip #31 NEVER get sexpectiations from cosmopolitan magazine…

I still hooked up with Kane for a while, but once I realised that I was only doing it because I had turned into some twisted Pokemon trainer who ‘wants to catch ’em all’ I knew it had to stop. The take home lesson this week is don’t sleep with people for the colour of their skin even if you think its for positive reasons, now I just do it due to poor judgement (c’mon guys that’s a solid improvement right there).

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Pictured: Sams ethical reasoning in action

 

Right, this week I was more villain than victim, but I’m actually going on a date with the deaf guy, so there is a solid chance I could be the devil by next week…

Top Tip #87 Even a downward spiral is moving in A direction…

Stats:

Emotional Level: Is tequila an emotion?

Cigarettes: I quit………….Caring!

Diet: Pringles are made from vegetables, so I’m getting a strong 12 a day at the moment

Exercise: If a step in the wrong direction/backwards counts, then damn I’ll be skinny by Sunday

 

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