I have came to the conclusion that being single might not be the worst thing in the world after all. I mean, even though the thought of me being a childless 60 year old man trolling local nightspots for women old enough to be my grandchild does seem like a sad fate to be totally honest, but the upside would be the kick that I would get screaming "These sheets are older than you girl!!" as I thrusted on top of my nightly conquest with the ferociousness of a caged animal.(albeit an elderly one). Sure not having a partner to share my life with would suck harder than a Jim Jones album, but just think of all the people at the STD clinic I'd befriend, you know, from the plethora of times I went in there with a "why is my dick the same colors as the African flag" questions after I was with a woman who I should have worn riot gear with. Plus, just think of all the things that I would avoid, sex talks with my demon seed, teaching the bastards how to drive, and worrying year on end about sending those miserable motherfuckers to some 4 year institution of learning. Yep, while other people worry about those things my only worries will be whether to spend the night with the girl who likes to sit on my lap and tell her a story before we fuck or the Latina chick that calls me "gramps" as she rides me, not to mention me figuring out which sweatsuit I plan on wearing each day. You know, as I type this I realize that being forever single would be a complete waste, akin to someone owning a library of Dipset material or all of Mo'Nique's theatrical releases. That being said, here is the last date that I went on.
Date 3: The Black Republican: When I met this chick in a bookstore a few weeks ago it was so cliche of an introduction that I thought that she might in fact be the future Mrs.HumanityCritic. There I was, sitting in the coffee shop part of Barnes and Noble, looking at a very reputable publication that showed captivating and thoughtful photographs of Alyssa Milano's crotch, pictures that had me wondering how many of her boyfriend's yell "Who's the Boss now bitch??!!" while making sweet love to her. Anyways, this chick just sits at her table and starts asking me questions like we had spoken before, "Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to, how's your family??" Even though it pained me to say what I was about to say, her beautiful caramel skin, stunning smile, her perfume that made my cock rise like it was a snake and she was the ultimate snake charmer, but I said "Hey Lady, I don't even fucking know you!!" She smiled and said, "I know, I just wanted an excuse to come over and speak to you", a phrase that had me both feeling good about myself and also feeling like I was her prey. We chatted a bit, discussed movies and a few items of the day, then we had planned a date a few days later. The next 48 hours were pure agony, not because I was nervous about my date or anything, but I fantasized in my mind how many deviant positions I would put this women in when I got the chance. Then panic set in, "What if I think about it so much that when it does happen I'm quicker than usual, as in "the length of the opening credits of the Cosby Show" quick??"
Stressing myself aside, I picked her up for my standard "lets grab a bite to eat before I fuck you and never call again" date and she looked absolutely stunning. I mean, it looked like she had beat Sho-nuff's ass and obtained a golden glow around her, not to mention that this chick's ass was as meaty as a Midget handshake. The first half of the date went well, we laughed, discussed music and by her tits being as perky as a character in an 80's teen flick and the way she randomly touched my hand during conversation, I just knew that she would soon sweep away remaining cobwebs off of my genitalia. Those hopeful thoughts of coidal bliss were thwarted when she said, "Oh yeah, did I tell you I was a republican!!" The record skipped akin to DMX mistakenly showing up to a Klan rally, like George Bush saying that he's a big DJ Premier fan, like Lil Kim busting a freestyle. But I was calm and tried to hear her out but as she talked, what felt like a solid piece of American manhood between my legs was reduced to somewhat of a wet noodle.
The problem really was she was one of these people that I detest politically, you know the black folks that claim that they were so disappointed by the democratic party that they went to the republican party. Which is their right, but the specifics in the logic always seems fucked up to me. That's like being in jail and trading in the cellmate who bugs you with his constant story telling for an inmate who's main agenda is raping you in the ass, without lubricant and a courtesy reach around. Anyway, the date ended pretty well, primarily because I quickly changed topics in hopes of me later fucking her while I whisper sweet nothing in her ear, like the deficit and how Bush lied us into this war. Well nothing happened but we do have a second date planned, but I don't see a future with someone who prays to the alter of Bush. I do see a "fucking" future though, but then again I'm a pig.