Category Archives: attraction

Yes It’s True…Black Guys Can Like White Girls AND Black Girls Too

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Do you realize that being seen with you means I can never go to the Essence festival again? Damn you cavewoman! Damn you!!!!

A week or so ago, our favorite least favorite (and newly single) professional athlete was spotted at The Watch The Throne concert with professional wifey Sanaa Lathan. Now, whether they just happened to run into each other there or were filming Loving Brown Sugar Basketballs Just Wright has yet to be determined, but apparently they were quite cozy. So cozy in fact that they were reported to be togethertogether, a rumor Lathan quickly shut down. 

From her Twitter feed

Can a girl have some fun at a jayz/kanye concert w/out being linked 2 a breakup? I AM NOT, NEVER HAVE BEEN, INVOVLED W/KOBE IN ANY WAY.

Whether they’re actually an item or not doesn’t matter to or interest me. They’re both rich, famous, black, and named after yoga poses, so I guess they’d be a good match. What does interest me, though, is the assumption that Kobe wouldn’t touch Sanaa in a million years, a sentiment she reiterated in her next tweet.

@justsanaa: Anybody who pays attention knows I’m not his type… Blank stare. #blackgirlsrock #dontbelievethelies¹

What exactly was she getting at? I mean, we’re all pretty certain that, despite his propensity for prolonged bitchassness, Kobe isn’t homosexual. He definitely does like women, so why wouldn’t he be interested in a woman as good-looking as Sanaa Lathan?

Ohhh, I get it now. Kobe was married to a non-black woman for a decade. This must mean that he’s definitely, automatically, unequivocally, and unquestionably not attracted to black women at all.

Now, I don’t know Kobe at all. He may very well hate black women with the white hot heat of 1000 AKA thongs. His favorite movies might be “The Imitation of Life,” “Othello,” and “Jungle Fever,” and his favorite animal might be the panda bear. Who the hell knows? I do know, though, that the widely held “fact” that if a black man dates outside of his race, it automatically means he’s not into black women is completely f*cking wrong.

Admittedly, I do understand where this sentiment comes from and why it’s so widely held. Centuries of having to deal with people like Satoshi Kanazawa can produce a circle-the-wagons mentality where any affront to black women’s desirability — real or perceived — is met with immediate rebuke. Also, there are some black men who, as soon as they reach a certain status level, put sistas on permanent ”ignore.” (This doesn’t happen as often as many of us think it does, but it does happen.)

Thing is, this theory ignores two vital facts.

1. Proximity and availability are easily the two most important factors when men are choosing mates. If you see a black man with a non-black women, 9 times out of 10 it’ll be because she happened to be around, happened to be single, and happened to be interested in him. That’s it. No self-loathing. No hatred of black skin. No angry tweets about Michelle Obama’s gums.

And, most importantly…

2. Women are all the same. 

Now, I’ve made no secret of my love, adoration, and admiration of black women. I’m completely attracted to and infatuated with them. Sistas are the sh*t and sh*t.  But, when it comes down to what makes a woman a woman, I also do realize that black women, white women, Asian women, Hispanic women, Indian women, aboriginal women, and women from Detroit aren’t really all that different. Sure, from an individual perspective they all have their own personal quirks and characteristics and nuances, but collectively all chicks are pretty much the same. (I feel the exact same way about men, btw. Despite my world-renowned awesomeness, there’s really no difference between me and some random New Zealand-ass n*gga.) 

I’m bringing this up because, once you realize that women aren’t really all that different from each other, you start to see how a man could be equally attracted to Jill Scott and Natalie Portman. (If you think this is too far-fetched of a comparison, you obviously don’t know me very well, and you obviously didn’t click on those last two links) In fact, you start to understand how a man could date/marry a white women even if he’s still much more attracted to sistas. Sh*t, I love female teachers, but that doesn’t mean that I’d never date a lawyer. (That last analogy was much more clever in my head than it is on screen, but I think you get my point.)

Anyway, people of VSB.com, I’m curious: When you see a black man with a non-black woman, do you automatically assume he’s just not that into sistas? Do you think you’re right to feel that way? If so, why, and how many hugs did you miss as a child?

¹This tweet has since been deleted

—The Champ

No Pre-Nupt? No Problem

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The NBA: Where putting a million-dollar ring on it to postpone something that's going to happen in seven years anyway, happens.

“30 years ago, everyone at this table would have either been married with kids or thought to be thoroughly f*cked up or gay if they weren’t married with kids yet.”

A friend of mine made this point after observing the demographics — 12 people, all between 27 and 34, all with decent incomes, and none of us had children or had been married — of the get-together we happened to be at. While her assertion may have been a tad off (I’d say those things were true 50 years ago instead of 30), her point — that more and more of us are waiting longer to start families (if deciding to start them at all) — is definitely true. A quick glance at Google, the evening news, or the VSB archives confirms it, as study after study has shown that this phenomenon is actually affecting everyone (yes. even white people) 

But while this trend is generally thought to be a bad thing, I don’t share that sentiment. Sure, perhaps the more successful of us could reproduce a bit more to balance out the collective spawns of Jethro and Hen-Rockeisha stealing Duracells and beef jerky from rest stop gas stations, but there are already 7 billion gotdamn people on the planet. I doubt the world is going to come to an end if one or one thousand master degreed motherf*ckers decide to opt out of having children.

Also — and this is a point we always seem to forget — out of the people you know who are currently engaged/married, how many of those relationships would you actually categorize as “good?” Seriously, I bet if each of us were to think of 10 couples currently in serious relationships (and “serious” is defined as “been together for at least a year”) and were asked to make bets on how long each relationship was going to last, we’d give at least 6 of them “a year, tops“….and we’d be right. That’s not even counting the horrifically mismatched motherf*ckers who’ve stayed a couple because they’re scared to break up with each other.

You can make the argument that we’re reading the stats the wrong way. Too many people are in relationships/married that clearly have no business being together, and more and more of us are starting to realize this to be true. Perhaps we’re actually trending upward.

Anyway, I’m sure you’ve all heard that everyone’s favorite least favorite athlete is breaking up with his wife. Apparently, she just became fed up with the fact that he couldn’t keep in his pants. ***Insert joke about Mexican women, black mambas, and underbites.***

Now, an uber-popular professional athlete repeatedly cheating on his wife is about as dog bites man-ey as a news story gets. But, the part of this situation that seems to have the most people taking is the fact that Kobe did not have a pre-nuptial agreement in place. His wife will receive half of his net worth — which is reported to be roughly 150 million dollars — and may be able to receive spousal support for the next 450 or so years.

Whether the former Mrs. Bryant actually deserves that money has been argued and debated ad nauseum, but the general sentiment about Kobe not asking her to sign a pre-nupt can be summed up in nine words: “He’s a gotdamn f*cking idiot…and an anal rapist” 

I disagree. Not with the anal raping part, of course. (Just to be clear, I do disagree with anal rape in general. Down with anal rape and sh*t.) I don’t think that not signing a pre-nupt makes him an idiot.¹ 

We all have the benefit of hindsight, allowing us to determine today that him not making his (then) 18 year old wife sign a pre-nuptial agreement in 2001 was clearly an idiotic move. At the same time, though, if you love someone enough to legally and spiritually commit the rest of your life to them, doesn’t a pre-nupt cheapen that entire process? Aren’t you basically saying “I love the sh*t out of you, and I want to spend the rest of eternity with you. I’ll carry you to Heaven, and, if need be, I’ll even follow you to Hell. Buuuuut, I’m a need you to sign this paper real quick just in case that whole loving the sh*t out of you thing doesn’t work. Deal?”

I know many of you (and by “you” I mean “the men reading this“) are probably thinking “That’s easy for you to say, Champ. I don’t know what your bank account looks like, but I’m pretty certain you aint worth 150 mil.” Thing is — and Chris Rock already made this point in one of his comedy specials — my relatively minuscule bank account actually makes a pre-nupt more sensible for me. I think Kobe will be ok with his 75 mil. But, if me or any of the rest of the 40 to 100 thousand dollar a year n*ggas reading this were forced to give half away, we’d have good motive to kill someone.

With that being said, I’d still never ask a woman to sign a pre-nupt. While some consider that piece of paper to be protection, I think it just exposes doubt. Perhaps I’m just hopelessly romantic (possible) or just dangerously naive (very possible), but I believe that if there’s any doubt then your ass just don’t need to be together at all.

As I stated before, there are already too many not really ready to be married motherf*ckers walking down the alter and taking up precious Jet magazine space. Why even make that step if you’re not willing to put all of your chips in?

¹Having unprotected anal sex with a woman you just met 20 minutes ago does, though

—The Champ

***If you get a minute, check out “The Conversation: Let’s Talk About Race” — a (duh) on-going conversation about race I’m having at The Good Men Project with author Andrew Cotto.***

The Uncomfortable Truth About Educated People And Unprotected Sex…

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Remember me? Ha! That was a rhetorical question. I already know that you don't.

…is that none of us really want to admit that — despite our (occasionally) expert and (always) intimate knowledge about AIDS rates, unwanted pregnancies, what unwanted and unprepared for pregnancies can do to our bank accounts, what 9 pound 8 ounce babies do to perfectly nice and pretty vaginas, how single parents (mothers especially) are ostracized, Ron Mexico, bacterial vaginosis, chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis, papillomavirus, pelvic inflammatory disease, syphilis, trichomoniasis, chlamydia, gonorrhea, genital herpes, the ubiquity and silliness of Valtrex commercials, Jim Jones, the fact that Magnum condoms really aren’t any bigger than regular ones, The Red Pump Project, killer p*ssy, limbo p*ssy, stripper p*ssy, Delta p*ssy, killer Delta stripper limbo p*ssy, whiskey d*ck, wack d*ck, crack d*ck, deprived d*ck, parking lot d*ck, “too nondescript to really count against my number” d*ck, keeping the numbers down, drunk sex, ex sex, sad sex, “I don’t really want to have sex with you, but I’m going to have sex with you anyway” sex, “your o face is too goofy for us to have sex again” sex, the Tuskegee experiment, Antonio Cromartie, Nas’ “You Got a House In Virginia” diss directed at Cam’ron in “Zone Out”, Eazy-E, Ol Dirty Bastard’s incoherent verse on the live MTV version of “America Is Dying Slowly”, dental dams, the utter ridiculousness of the female condom, the medieval-ness of Rape-Ex, Magic Johnson, the spaceship Magic Johnson takes to Jupiter once a month to pick up his HIV drugs, the joke that Flavor Flav looks exactly how we all thought Magic Johnson was going to look by now, The Corner, the occasionally absurd and always misleading stats that seem to come out annually about Baltimore’s infection rate, the prominence and prevalence of strippers, stripper culture, and young kids with names that have basically doomed them to be strippers, female ejaculation, the inane argument that female ejaculation doesn’t exist, the faux reliability of the pull-out method, and, most importantly, the fact that we know that we’re smart enough, educated enough, and thoughtful enough to know better — many of us (and my “many” I mean “most”) still have had unprotected sex, are currently having unprotected sex, and don’t plan on discontinuing the unprotected sex any time soon.

—The Champ

Why I Think I Love Issa Rae (and Tracy Oliver too)

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Did you know that former NBA player/Kardashian concubine Rashad McCants produced and starred in “The Booster Club” — which, according to its YouTube summary, is a “comedy series that will take viewers into the lives of a ring of professional booster “thieves” dedicated to the advancement of those addicted to the high of stealing”? Did you also know that McCants wears a black mop top wig throughout the entire trailer devoted to this series?

Well, if you’re reading this, I’m assuming you’re at least somewhat sane. And, since you’re at least somewhat sane, you probably answered “No” to both of these questions. I consider myself to be at least somewhat sane too, but I’m aware of “The Booster Club” because we (VSB) get approximately 15 to 20 trailers like this sent to us every month by either publicists and A&R’s promoting their material or fans, cousins, and babymommas of the people involved, and I’ve watched every single one of them.

As you’ve probably imagined, my viewing experiences have lowered my expectations considerably, so when people were texting, emailing, and tweeting me last spring to see if I’d watched this new web series about some awkward black girl, I responded to each with the same tone of transparent disingeniousness I’d use when I was 12 and my mom asked if I’d cleaned my bedroom yet. “Yeah, mom. I promise. I’m going to get it done today. You’re my favorite mom, ever. I love you.”

But, when I did finally get around to it, not only was I (very) entertained and (completely) impressed, I felt a feeling that’s perhaps the most sincere compliment I can possibly give: envy. Seriously, I thought it was so good that I was kind of pissed that I didn’t create it myself.

Since then, I’ve followed the progress of the Awkward Black Girl team. I’ve seen each episode, read/watched pretty much every interview, and even planned to get Issa Rae and (co-producer) Tracy Oliver on a podcast. (Didn’t happen because, well, we just got busy with book stuff and forgot. If you don’t buy that excuse, just pretend it was Jim Jones’ fault.)

Yet, despite the fact that I’m (obviously) a fan already, something happened this week that turned my fandom into sincere admiration.

From “Awkward Black Girl’ Called Out For Offending the Transgender Community, Is It Fair?”

“…but recently a few members of the Crunk Feminist Collective, a group we also love, has called out the show for using the word “tranny” and the phrase “no lesbo.”

Although very few people get spared the comedic jabs of Awkward Black Girl, the men and women over at the Crunk Feminist Collective (CFC), found the usage of such terms to be offensive and divisive.”

Now, we’ve all seen this play out a million and one times. Entertainer known for “colorful” content offends someone, offended party lets their hurt feelings known, and entertainer responds by going on a 28 day long apology tour. I even alluded to this panoramic and pandemic hypersensitivity in an entry last month.

I was expecting the Awkward Black Girl team to do the same thing. They surprised me, again.

Their response

Some of our viewers may have been offended by some of the language in our recent episode. We take this matter especially to heart, considering the CFC and members of the LGBT community were among the first to embrace ‘The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl.’

Since our first episode debuted in February this year, ‘Awkward Black Girl’ has received an incredible outpouring of support from hundreds of thousands of fans. We love and appreciate each and every one of our fans! In return, we strive to provide a show that uses irreverent comedy and humor to address the oftentimes uncomfortable situations that many people have experienced at some point or another in their lives.

In creating a series of this nature, we are willing to accept the praise when the jokes work and the feedback when they may not.

Sincerely, Issa & Tracy

Carefully worded? Definitely. Sincere? Seems like it. Thoughtful? Sure. Considerate? Yeah.

One thing is missing though. There is no apology there. None. Zero. Zip. Nil. They didn’t apologize for shit, and I can only assume it’s for one reason: They’re not actually sorry.

I’m sure they probably wish that the Crunk Feminist Collective didn’t get offended. But, wishing someone didn’t get offended isn’t the same thing as apologizing that someone’s been upset, and I appreciate them not taking the easy bait.

I really, really liked them for creating a series that’s witty, offbeat, irreverent, and intentionally toes the line of political correctness (and has proven to be an equal opportunity shot taker), and I think I love them for not apologizing for it.

—The Champ

Why The Orgasm Is The Most Overrated Object On Earth

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Sorry for not providing a better pic, but as you might have guessed, googling "black orgasm" doesn't exactly give you a ton of work safe options.

Although I haven’t brought an egg timer or stop watch to bed with me to measure one yet, I feel very confident in saying that my average orgasm lasts somewhere between three and eleven seconds. And, although I haven’t done any extensive research on this topic, I feel equally confident in saying that most men could say the exact same thing. (Perhaps, since every man has one, we should start saying “Opinions are like three to eleven second long orgasms.” Gives the saying a bit more punch than “assholes” does)

You’re probably wondering why I seem to be so concerned with the length of my — and the rest of my brethren’s — orgasms. It’s not the length that concerns me, though. It’s the lengths we go through to do something that lasts about as long as it’ll take for you to read the rest of this sentence.

Before I continue, although the title lets you know that I think orgasms are undoubtedly overrated, don’t take that to mean that I think they’re bad. They are the antithesis of bad. They are outstanding, amazing, superb, practical, remarkable, resourceful, colorful, enlightening, and even occasionally educational. I’ve had orgasms that have made me speak in dead languages (Fluently!), that have made me scream the same dignity-less scream I’d scream if I woke up with a spider on my lip, that have made me get up and fry bacon buck naked, that have even made me whisper ”damn” with the same understated reverence usually reserved for Free’s ass, movies where Denzel sheds tears, and your mom’s turkey gravy. As a self-proclaimed orgasm expert, I staunchly believe that a collective increase of our country’s orgasms would lead to a collective decrease of our country’s crime. Orgasms are, by any stretch of the imagination, the shit.

But, while their status as the shit is unquestioned, this shitness pales in comparison to the effort we take to receive them. Seriously, think about the absurd, idiotic, embarrassing, and scandalous-ass stuff we’ve done just because of the mere possibility of having an orgasm. Think about the time you flew to New York during a coast-wide blackout, or the time you risked your perfectly good relationship to have one, or the time in high school you begged your mom to let her borrow her car and conveniently “forgot” to pick her up from work on time just so you could have more time to have an orgasm with a person that you thought so little of that they weren’t allowed past the basement steps and still think so little of that you just blocked them from your Facebook feed last week. If you’ve had unprotected sex before (which, I’m assuming 99.7% of the sexually active people reading this have) you’ve risked your freakin’ life for an orgasm.

Now, I realize that this need to orgasm isn’t necessarily about the orgasms as much as the context (the person you’re with, the connection you share, and blah, blah, blah, blah) and what can possibly happen when you have one (procreation). In this sense, it’s a means to an evolutionary end. But, although I’m not sure if our minds are advanced enough to perform the cognitive dissonance needed to completely disassociate having an orgasm with what could very likely be the result of that orgasm, I know that I’ve never, ever, ever consciously thought “I need to put a baby in her belly” when seeing an attractive woman at the bar. In fact, I’ll usually be thinking of putting the, um, “results of my orgasm” anywhere on her person (foot, cheek, back, ear, back of the ear, etc) except for the one place it’s supposed to go (vagina).

Would I still maintain that orgasms were overrated if they lasted longer? Perhaps. But, considering the effort undertaken to receive them, orgasms might have to last 120 to 150 minutes at a time to begin to receive an accurate return on our investment, and I don’t know if we’re prepared to handle that.

I do know, though, that 25 to 30 minutes after I finish writing this, there’s a (98.7%) chance that I’m going to check a special folder on my desktop, grab a lubricating agent, a towel, turn the heat up in my place so my hands and feet don’t get cold, and begin the process that’s going to lead to that aforementioned three to eight seconds of unadulterated theshitness.

But, despite this relatively miminal effort, only one thought is going to go through my head while I perform my usual post-masturbatory duties (clean up, shower, self-loath, etc) “Damn, I was right. This IS overrated. Perhaps I’ll hurry up and perform this overrated task again.”

—The Champ