“Being bisexual doubles your chances of getting a date on a Saturday night. Anything else is irrelevant.” ~Woody Allen, Actor, Director, Pedophile

This morning, my girl Pele, and I were having one of our usual early morning convos. She had just missed her bus in the Bay area and I was still in the bed as usual. I’m not sure how we got on this certain topic, wait, I do remember. Pele asked if my younger brother was still working in retail management because Bebe was looking for District Managers.

“Uh, Pele, I don’t think any straight guy would want to work there. I’ve only noticed really skinny gay men that like to wear women clothes working at BeBe”, is what I told her.

“You know, you’re right, or they’re bisexual…like this cat, Jose, that I know”, she says.

Here’s some background on Jose.

Pele describes Jose as being this tall, very attractive Puerto Rican guy who is trying to date her. But here’s the issue. Jose is BISEXUAL. Pele knew from the door that Jose had a little ‘extra’ something going on with him because of his mannerisms and attitude, but she didn’t want to just assume it. So of course she asked, and he told.

Now, I’m all for people choosing to participate in whatever lifestyle they choose to, but NO, I could never see myself dating a man who was bisexual, and neither could Pele. I understand how this is a novelty to some men, but I truly don’t know how many women out there would be accepting of a bisexual man.

Insert double standard.

I just can’t imagine being with a man who gets pleasure out of kissing another man (among other things). But everyone knows how much pleasure a man gets out of seeing two women kiss. Why? I don’t know. Maybe someone can explain that one to me.

My grandmother used to tell me bisexual people were greedy and that they want their cake and eat it too. Who knows, maybe the old lady has a point there. I remember having a transgender friend in high school named “Danielle” (Daniel) and I asked him, why would he take the time to dress like a woman, but also want to date men and women. He basically told me he never felt comfortable in ‘boys’ clothes but he also didn’t want to limit himself to just men. P O N D E R O U S. Confused much?

In any event, I will stick to my strictly hetero men, but being that I live in the area with the DL phenonmenon  in full swing, you can never be to sure nowadays. Staying single sounds like a better option every day. I don’t want to have to deal with the “Crying Game”.

So here’s 2 questions:

Women, could you see yourself dating a man who was bisexual?

Men, why is there so much fascination behind bisexual women?

I know it’s been a while since we’ve actually spoken. I think the last communication between us, was via your Myspace page when you referred to me as a “place holder” in your life. You sent me an email, but then of course you prevented me from responding to it because you blocked me. Not a big deal of course to me, because at that point, I was prepared to go on with my life. Words never hurt me.

So now, several months later, for some reason I can’t help to feel that you’re stalking my thoughts. Of course the internet is free for anyone to roam, but usually when people say they don’t want to have anything to do with someone any more, it means all types of communication are severed. Why would you care to know what’s going on in my life? Oh, but of course, I’m sure you got an eye full from my post from a few days ago, that was subsequently deleted. So by now, you know that my relationship ended. Did that put a smile on your face to read that? You also know that I’ve had issues with my health recently. I bet you shook your head and said, “That’s what you get”, because usually that’s how asses respond to other people’s misfortune.

Yesterday, I wrote that I wasn’t going to include TMI in my posts. When people who personally know me read that, they were a little shocked, because it’s not like I put too much of myself out there like that anyways. So, no, I’m not going to censor my thoughts or my writing just because you or anyone else who I may know personally will read it.

Friends. Family. Foe.

It’s really not that serious. So keep on reading, hopefully you’ll subscribe to it. Just add your email address to the feedburner box to the right of your screen. I’m not sure if you attempted to do that yesterday when you clicked it, or if that was what you were trying to do when you emailed my post, but I figure I’d help you out. Also, if there’s any other recent information you may want to just google me (btw, google the name ‘funkyblackchick’ instead of ‘funky black chick’ like you did before- you’ll yield better results) or sign up for my Twitter updates since you managed to read those as well!

Yours truly,

[fung'ke] [blak] [chik]™

I remember the first time I heard Lauryn Hill sing about reciprocity in her song, “Ex-Factor”:

It could all be so simple
But you’d rather make it hard
Loving you is like a battle
And we both end up with scars
Tell me, who I have to be
To get some reciprocity
No one loves you more than me
And no one ever will

This past year has shown me that I can’t be everyone’s friend and I can’t be the family member that looks out for everyone anymore. I can only worry about my own affairs. It’s somewhat a harsh reality, but I think the lack of selfishness that I’ve been practicing has done me more harm than good.

The Art of Reciprocity is dead.

I was talking to a cousin of mine the other day, and we realized that all of the “Moldly Men” we have dated, whether it took their looks to grow on us or their personality, it backfired in the worst ways! Some of these men turned out to be some of the biggest assholes ever. I half seriously and half jokingly told her that I refuse to get suck in by someone who I think could grow on me. For now on, if there isnt’ that immediate attraction, be it physical or mental, I’m not going to let them mold on me, but fold them away like an old outfit that I never plan on wearing again. Because in the long run, I think I’d rather go about my life knowing that if I happened to break up with someone or vice versa, it was someone who there was that immediate ‘click’ with, not with someone that I had to make concessions for.

From my HR/EEO background there are a few things I raise my eyebrow to, and that’s inter-office romances/relationships. To me, it’s a known rule of thumb not to have them and I’ve even worked for corporations/organizations that had policies on them. So when I heard about his reputation, the scarlet letter was immediately thrown on his forehead.

Now, I try to be cordial to everyone in my immediate office and throughout the organization, but on this day in particular my cordialness was tested. Mr. Inter-office Male managed to push all of my wrong buttons within a 20 minute conversation. I don’t know if he thought just because I was a ’sista’ that he could get away with the overt flirting or because of his good looks, but during the hours of 8-2pm (yeah I love my schedule) I am professional at all times, and if by chance there’s an after-hours work function, I still keep a certain amount of professionalism as well.

So he tried to pull a few of my cards and asked a few personal questions in regards to dating, etc..etc…I managed to redirect his attention to the subject matters that were at hand for the most part. That was until the subject matter turned to an issue I noticed about our organizations benefit coverage in regards to breast exams and that we were only covering women over 35 yrs of age.

I’m not sure if he was doing his best impersonation of Pavlov’s dog, but upon hearing the word “BREASTS”, he practically started drooling and looking at mine and decided to be a smart-ass and say, “Well, yeah, you definitely need to get those checked out”.

(insert the WHAT THE FUCK FACE??)

Everyone that was around us went silent. You could hear a pin drop. My assistant gave me a look as to say, “Please, (insert gov’t name), don’t hurt him!”.

Toooo late!

I shot him a look, and basically told him, because other women may find his overt flirting and the fact that he’s just about slept with every woman in the organization or the fact that men have come to the job threatening him b/c he’s slept with their girlfriend/wife some sort of perverse form of attraction, but I don’t and if he wants to keep his job at our organization and still be able to pay his hefty child support payments on time, that he needs to back-off. End of conversation.

Yes, my neck was going. Yes, I had my finger pointed in his face and he’s lucky I didn’t stab him in his foot with my 3 inch stiletto heel. Hopefully I’ve managed to make my point clear with Mr. Inter-Office Male, because I’d hate to have to follow through on my promises to him.

In any event, being an Inter-Office Male is nothing any man should be proud about, especially if other women find out how you really are. Yes, we whisper about you in the ladies room, we laugh when we find out about the major drama behind your office courtships, and we’re smart enough to stay away.

Of course, after I let it slip, the first thing he asked me was what do I write about? My only reply I could think of was, “Stuff”. He asked me what exactly did I mean by stuff, because that answer was quite vague. I told him it’s usually whatever is on my mind at the time, anything from people I may encounter, work, things I may have saw on the news or read in the newspaper. His next question was if I wrote about men.

(insert awkward silence)

Now, I could have answered this question a number of ways. Truthfully, by telling him that occasionally I may write about people I’ve come across in general, not just men. Or, I could have told him, “Of course not, I don’t divulge information about my personal life”. Well, I guess depending on the way you look at it, both of those answers are true.

As predicted, he asked if I wrote about him (he’s an egotistical man) and I told him no and that I doubt I would. He asked what was the last thing I wrote about, and I told him it was about a man’s (f?ng’k?) feet. At this point, I’m wishing he would change the subject because I could already tell where this was going.

“Well you wrote about a man’s feet, Who was this man? And you couldn’t write about me?”

(as you can tell he’s quite predictable and likes to have his ego stroked)

Truth be told, I let him know that I was actually going to write about him in regards to the fact that I think men who own cats are ’suspect’ to me. Needless to say, he didn’t like that answer or sense my use of sarcasm.

(Actually, I do find men who own cat(s) quite weird)

Once again I tried to switch the subject, but before I could, he asked the one question I hate answering when it comes to my blog and friends who don’t know about it.

“Well what’s the name of this blog of yours? I want to read it”.

S L O W your roll, buddy.

Many have asked, even more haven’t received an answer. I love the anonymity of hiding behind the moniker, (f?ng’k?) [blak] [chik], especially when it comes to not divulging it to other people that may possibly become a victim of a ‘drive by blog post’.

I didn’t tell him how to find my blog and he became somewhat offended.

“Oh, I’m not special enough?”, he asks.

“Is that a rhetorical question, especially since I haven’t known you that long?”

(insert dial tone)

Yeah, that ass hung up on me. All because I wouldn’t tell him what the name of my blog was. If he knew me well enough he’d know that I’m somewhat a private person, even down to the fact that when he asked me what my last name was, I gave him the wrong one, well not exactly wrong, but my mother’s maiden name.

So at this point, he’d be happy to know that he has now been immortalized in a blog, but I guess he’ll never find out since he decided to rudely hang up on me. That sealed the deal on him not ever hearing from me again. Boy do I hate egotistical men who need constant stroking.