Category Archives: bedside manner

Standing By Your Man: Savvy or F*cking Stupid?

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Although he was completely unqualified, completely unprepared, completely (but hilariously) uncouth, and unapologetic about this unqualifiedness, unpreparedness, and uncouthness, I have to say that I’m going miss Herman Cain — the realest motherf*cker alive. Seriously, we’re going to see Jerry Sandusky working at Chuck E Cheese before we see another elderly black pizza man with a bag of hard “candy” in his pocket become — even for 25 milliseconds — the presumptive leader to be the republican nominee in the race for president.

Never mind the fact that he had absolutely no chance to win and you can (rightly) argue that his appeal was mainly due to the fact that his presence allowed many their “See? I hate Obama — his policies, his name, his weed lips, his big bootied wife, and his black gums — but this proves I’m not racist.” moments, he was entertaining, his hats kicked ass, he looks like he smells like Old Spice, Champale, and Viagra powder, and he wasn’t above singing random negro spirituals at press conferences. Do I want him as my president? F*ck no. Would I hook him up with one of my aunts? Probably not. Would I hook him up with a down on her luck middle-aged white co-worker who’s just looking for a casino buddy and someone to hand job? Definitely.

But, while Herman Cain definitely piques my interest, today I’m a bit more interested in his wife. It’s no secret that Herman Cain’s hermancane is the reason why he dropped out of the race. Although none of these allegations have been confirmed, by the looks of things it seems like he’s f*cked more white women than Rick James. Yet, the best way to describe Gloria Cain’s demeanor through all of this is annoyed — not annoyed that her husband thinks he’s Lexington Steele, mind you, but by the women making these claims. It’s almost as if her default public face is “Here we go with these silly bitches again.”

I’m aware that this may very well be her public face. Perhaps he’s been sleeping on the couch for the last 6 months. Perhaps she’s pulling a Hilary — standing by her man in public to eventually reap the benefits of his ascension. But, at the moment she’s making a very conscious and conspicuous choice to let everyone know that she’s standing by her husband’s side, and you can’t help but be curious why.

Now, this situation is far from unique. In just the last week, we’ve seen the bizarre back and forth between Bishop Spermin’ and Permin’ and his wife and we were also made aware that that Laurie Fine — the wife of Bernie Fine (the longtime assistant basketball coach at Syracuse accused of molesting ball boys) — knew that her husband had “issues” at least nine years ago and is still married to him. These are men who allegedly did despicable things, things that you’d think would be dealbreakers for anyone, but their wives obviously didn’t consider ending the relationship to be the immediate choice.

While I used to think otherwise, I have to say that I don’t consider a person in this situation to be automatically wrong anymore. Again though, none of us have any idea of what’s really going on in these women’s heads and driving them to at least consider staying. But unless a woman’s life is in danger, I just can’t call her stupid or weak or hopelessly adickted or any other negative adjective for choosing to stay with a shitty man.

It’s a very cliched way to look at things, but life is, well …life is f*cking long and hard, and if a person staunchly believes that they still have a better chance of tackling this life monster with their faulty mate at their side, who am I to begrudge them? Perhaps Gloria Cain’s “silly bitch” smirk is really just her saying “Look. I put all my chips in on this number 7-ass n*gga 40 years ago. Can’t stop the roulette wheel now, and don’t know if I’d want to even if I could.”

Anyway, people of VSB, I’m curious: Do you think that women like Gloria Cain are stupid for standing by their men? Also, while we all have our automatic dealbreakers (cheating, domestic violence, etc) can you ever envision yourself in a situation where you might be tempted to overlook those things for the greater good?

—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

“The Unprompted D*ck Pic” and 4 More Things We (Men) Need To Stop Forever

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He got it at Jared

I was in NYC last week to participate in a dating and relationship roundtable discussion with several other writers and bloggers. While hanging out during the accompanying photoshoot, we — the three male writers in attendance — were involved in a kind of heated and completely hilarious conversation with a few of the stylists on set. Apparently, the emailboxes of each of these women were full of random wangs — short, tall, long, wrong, etc — and the only thing each of these pics had in common was the fact that none of them were requested.

One woman even told us about a time a year or so ago when she was in the cab back home from a decent first date with a guy. She felt her cell phone buzzing, saw the guy’s number, assumed he was texting to make sure she got home okay, opened the message prepared to see “Hey, just wanted to make sure you made it home ok” or “Had a great time tonight,” but was greeted with a glistening wang with the words “Sneak Preview” attached to it. One’s left to wonder if he carried a bottle of Vaseline in his pocket to always be prepared to send a shiny d*ck pic or if he just had the pic stored on his phone for special occasions.

Although none of us had actually done the unprompted d*ck pic thing ourselves, three possible reasons for this act were brought up.

A) It’s a simple bait for easy chicks. Let’s say you send a d*ck pic to 15 different women. Although most will be disgusted/indifferent (or will at least feign disgust/indifference), there might be a couple who are amused/intrigued/aroused by it, and now you have three new chicks who want to f*ck and all you had to do to cultivate interest was stick an iPhone in your boxers.

B) We occasionally assume that most women are turned on by our bodies in the same way that we’re turned on by theirs. As my homie J-Russ has joked, it doesn’t even take boobs or booty to get us. Sometimes a chick’s shoulder blade or bare ankle is enough to make us all verklempt, and we sometimes forget that women’s arousal can be a bit more, um, complicated than that.

C) Remember lunchtime recess in 3rd grade, when some boys used to flash girls at the swings and then run away laughing when she screamed or blushed? (and by “some” I mean “all”) Well, let’s just say that certain parts of some of us never grow up, and many of us will never not enjoy showing our d*cks to random women.

Anyway, the unprompted d*ck pic is just one of the many things many of us continue to do even though — if the women I’ve met are any indication — very, very, very few women actually seem to enjoy it.

Here’s four more.

2. The too soon “I miss you” text/phone call/email message

You know what’s funny? The men who do this are usually completely disingenuous. I mean f*ck, the date just ended 13 minutes ago. There’s no way in hell you miss her Aspergers having ass already. But, many of us send that message just to get some extra points, oblivious to the fact that there’s a 97.9% chance that she’ll think you’re a corny f*cking lame after receiving it.

3. The foreplay ear-tongue play

Guys, raise your hand if you’ve ever stuck your tongue in a woman’s ear while making out. Ladies, raise your hand if you’ve ever had that happen to you. Now, keep those hands up if you’ve ever actually enjoyed that.

Exactly.

4. Asking “how many” 

Although “how many” does actually matter (that’s another topic for another day), asking the question is an exercise in futility. Why? Well, she’ll either get pissed at you for asking, lie about the number, or tell the truth and make you want to hide under the table. And yes, if you’re the type of guy who’d ask, you’re probably also the type whose feelings would get hurt if her number is higher than D.Wade’s jersey.

5. The plan-less date

I know, I know, I know. We think we’re doing the right thing. We just want to make her happy, we want her to enjoy her time, and, ever since that time two years ago when we accidentally watched a couple scenes from Erin Brockovich, we’re aware of women’s rights and shit.

But, while many of us think that “It’s whatever. I don’t have any preference. Whatever you want to do.” is the optimum way to approach dating in these increasingly androgynous times, there are few things that dry panties quicker than a date without a plan.

Seriously, it doesn’t even have to be a good plan. It could be a bad plan. An awful plan. An egregiously shitty plan on par with “Let’s let the guy who was caught raping a kid in the showers unrestricted access to our locker room.” Shit, you can even change plans. Just make sure to have something, anything in place to let her know you put more than five seconds worth of thought into your evening. Plus, if you allow her to make her own plans you make her accountable for her own happiness, and we all know they don’t want that to happen either. (another topic for another day)

Anyway, people of VSB: Do you agree with my list?

Also, can you think of any thing else that we (men) continue to do even though we know that most women kind of hate it? 

***Coming tomorrow: “55 Things Women Need To Stop Forever“***

—The Champ

The Cheating Spectrum

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“Three days ago, my husband’s female co-worker called to inform me that she had been sleeping with my husband of two years for the past nine months. As I’m sure you can imagine, this shook my world and led to a lengthy fight. My husband has declared that he did sleep with her but says it was only once nine months ago.”

I came across this quote while going through Dear Prudence’s archives yesterday. The situation itself was unremarkable, and Prudence’s advice was on-point as usual (“Tell him you don’t know who to believe, and you want to contact his supposedly former lover and see if she has evidence that it was no one-night stand. Maybe that will shake out of him a different version of the truth.“), but the topic resonated because it made me think about all the gray associated with cheating.

For instance, I doubt her advice would have been the same if the person asking the question was a girlfriend instead of a wife, and I also strongly doubt that Prudence would have suggested that the wife try to find out the truth if the third party was the wife’s sister instead of the husband’s co-worker.

My point? All cheating isn’t created equal, and it’s about time that someone made a spectrum to accurately gauge which acts of infidelity are worse than others. And, as you probably guessed, that someone is me.

Without further ado, here’s the cheating spectrum.

***Acts of infidelity are listed from “1″ — stop bitching and get over yourself — to “10″ — someone needs to f*cking die***

(The “Annoying, but you need to forget about that shit” zone)

1.0

A lapdance from a stripper

1.7

grinding on the dance floor

(It may be a surprise to some to see a somewhat innocent dance being considered more infidelity-ish than a man or woman getting their crotch bounced on by a naked stripper, but someone dancing on top of you while you’re stuffing dollar bills in her butt crack has a funny way of making things less intimate)

2.0

Public but private lunch (ie: You share a table at Wendy’s with each other) with a very attractive co-worker.

(The “Maybe we need to talk, you f*ckin bastard”  zone)

3.0

Inappropriate GChat conversations, texts, or emails.

(“Inappropriate“ in this sense is defined as “Anything you’d rather delete than let your significant other see“)

3.7

Talking on the phone after 10pm to any opposite sex friend about anything not business related

4.5

Confiding to a friend of the opposite sex about relationship issues you’re having

(A very underrated act of relationship disrespect that might even be too low on the list)

(The ”You probably should know that I don’t have to break up with you over this, but I could”  zone)

5.0

Drunkenly kissing someone while on vacation

(Upsetting, but far from unforgivable) 

5.7

Telling a person you’re very attracted to that you’re very attracted to them

(Even if this interest is unactedupon, things like this need to be kept to yourself. Can’t be out there planting seeds like that, because, even if you don’t intend to, it increases the likelihood that you’ll eventually f*ck the plant)

(The ”If you tell your significant other about this, you should probably brace yourself because you might get mushed”  zone)

6.0

Drunk vacation sex

(Sh*t happens)

(The ”Unless one of us is rich, hung like a donkey, or looks like Stacey Dash, this sh*t is officially over”  zone)

7.0

Drunken but very passionate kiss between you and someone your significant other personally knows and sees on a regular basis

7.5

Longtime emotional — but non sexual — intimacy with a person not your significant other

(I have a feeling that most of the women reading this would place it higher on the list)

8.0

Completely lucid one night stand

(The ”Where’s my bleach?”  zone)

8.7

One night stand with a mutual friend, significant other’s family member, or, if you’re a man, man

9.0

Long-time affair with a stranger

(The ”Prison time actually doesn’t seem all that bad”  zone)

10.0

A long-time affair with a mutual friend, significant other’s family member, or, if you’re a man, man

(Not only do people often die in situations like this, but up until like seven years ago, you could legally murder someone over it)

Anyway, people of VSB.com, what are your thoughts about the spectrum? Did you agree with my placements? Also, are there any other acts you’d like to see included? If so, where would you put them?

—The Champ

F*ck It, It Was My Birthday Anyway

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Gotcha, b*tch!!! Happy birthday!

One of the more famous and oft-quoted skits in the reading ninja community is track 6 off of André 3000 from Outkast’s The Love Below album. The skit is entitled “Where Are My Panties?” No need to link it or quote the whole thing because if you don’t know it, I feel sorry for your mother. Or mudda.

I can’t tell you how many women I’ve personally told, “ooooh, I just wanna lay in yo’ haaaaaaaaaiyah.” In fact, I’m sure that skit did more for women with natural hair than TCB, white men, and Angela Davis combined. Now, the most intriguing part of it was when the chick says the famous lines:

“He gon’ think I’m a ho. F*ck that, I liked it. I was drunk and it was my birthday anyway. Maybe I should just lay here and let him touch my booty.”

While I’m sure that nearly every woman has had a “where are my panties?” moment (and trust me ladies, most of us guys wake up wondering where your panties are too…sooner we find them, sooner you go home), I wonder how many have been as a result of some chick really being on some, “f*ck it’s my birthday…” steez.

Basically, how many of you dames out there really invoke the “Anything Goes On My Birthday” mantra to excuse doing something that you probably shouldn’t have not had done? I’m really curious about this because I can’t exactly imagine a non-effeminate straight dude making such a proclomation and getting away with it at all. I’m guessing most guys ain’t trying to rationalize it so much as just hoping nothing bad comes from it. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it one time: the greatest victory is waking up after a drunken one night stand to a ripped open condom wrapper on the floor. That’s when you hit the *Giada de Laurentiis tiny fist hand clap* and the *Tiger Woods fist pump* in succession. My brothas out there know what I’m talking about. Not that I’d know from firsthand experience or anything.

Granted, any and all of this requires you to actually tell somebody else what you did and then following it up with the birthday rationalization and that might make the whole thing moot.

Luckily, here at VSB most of us don’t really know eachother so letting the beans spill ain’t no Biggie. Shyne.

But that makes me wonder what are valid “it was my birthday” rationalizations. Here’s my guess-list.

1. Smanging a dolphin an ex

I imagine that more women get them some comfort wang during birthday week than any other week of the year, assuming she’s single. Also, do any men actually take more than the day to celebrate their birthday? Like a birthday week? A weekend might be okay, but a dude celebrating a week or month? Diva dude with a**north tendencies.

2. Making out with a chick

We’ve covered to various degree random chick hookups and I’m too lazy to go back and find them but I can see a chick being like “hey, it’s my birthday…yay…come here Maria!!! *tongue down*”

3. Totally losing their sh*t behind somebody not going with the plan

Mi hombres? We’ll usually be like “f*ck it, let him roll” but I think women get extra emotional points to use on the America Express during their birthday shenanigans so if somebody doesn’t go along to get along, women can act out. I’m only saying this because I’ve seent it with my own to eyes followed by, “that b*tch knows its my birthday. She better come correct.”

4. Extreme indulgence

Chocolate. Clothing. Shoes. Staples. Pencil lead. Coffee mug. Telephones.

Brick Tamland: I love…carpet. I love…desk.

Ron Burgundy: Brick, are you just looking at things in the office and saying that you love them?

Brick Tamland: I love lamp.

Ron Burgundy: Do you really love the lamp, or are you just saying it because you saw it?

Brick Tamland: I love lamp. I love lamp.

Ahem.

I’ve seen women splurge on things with the passion of Mel Gibson on their birthdays. And there really ain’t nothing you can say to ‘em. Everybody deserves to be spoilted I suppose.

5. Feeling up Panama Jackson in the club 

This almost never happens.

So ladies, do you live by that mantra? And if so, what exactly constitutes something you can get away with because it’s your birthday? To the homeys out there, have you ever tried to invoke such a rule? And how’d that go? Have you ever been apart of some woman’s birthday shenanigans?

Talk to me. Petey.

It’s Friday, people. I came to bring the pain.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka DUSTY VAUGHAN aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3