Susan Crain Bakos: "A White Woman Explains Why She Prefers Black Men"
Black skin is thick and lush, sensuous to the touch, like satin and velvet made flesh. Theres only one patch of skin on a white mans body that remotely compares to nearly every inch of a black mans skin. The first time I caressed black skin, it felt like a luxury I shouldnt be able to afford. I craved it more strongly than Carrie Bradshaw craved Manolo Blahnik shoes. That phrase, Once you go black, you never go back is all about the feeling of the skin.
But in truth, black sisters, were after the sex, not the ring and these guys arent the marrying kind anyway.
Black men have something white guys dont have anymore: confidence in their masculinity, their sexuality. They clearly know theyre men. White men appear to be waiting for the latest sociological research study to let them know if they are men or not. Yet black men are gentlemen, something else white men no longer are. They make me feel like a woman, both respected and desired. I can let go of my inhibitions, my need to control, when I am with them. How many white men can treat a woman like a lady and ravish her too?
White men over 40 have lost their waistlines and their zest for lifeÂif they ever had it. They carry resentments, grudges and extra pounds in their basketball bellies. Perhaps a good part of that bloat is unhappiness. Even the thin ones look flabby somehow and deeply aggrieved. They nurse the smallest perceived slight longer than their double shots of Scotch. Surely our culture as much as biology turns them into softer, spongier, less-interesting versions of their youthful selves just at the point where women and black men and other minorities are emerging strong. Society overvalues the white man, leaving him angry and bitter when he realizes, around age 40, that hes not all that.
Like I said, the stupid dingbat needed a beating. Needs one every day for some time. Not that I care about her wising up, just that she gets regular beatings.
Not all, honey. Not all.