I Miss the GTD Playlist

While trying to write my first sex scene in a long time I was trying to get myself in the mood by playing music. Now I have over 18,000 songs and setting up a playlist to get me in the mood is kind of easy.

Those songs take me back.

But again if you listen to the songs nowadays you don’t get the same thing. It’s like a full dinner without the appetizer.Remember those mixtapes that you used to put together? Or the quiet storm?It was soft and sensual that got people in the mood.Back when my father was a young man, listening to any of these songs meant that was going to Get The Draws (hereby known as GTD).

I’ll Be There The Jackson 5
Let’s Stay Together – Al Green
Let’s Get It On – Marvin Gaye
First Time Ever I Saw Your Face – Roberta Flack
Love To Love You Baby – Donna Summer
Three Times A Lady – The Commodores
Slow Jam – Midnight Star
Let’s Get It On – Marvin Gaye
Lady – The Whispers
Turn Off The Lights – Teddy Pendergrass
How Can Yo Mend A Broken Heart – Al Green
As We Lay – Shirley Murdock
We Both Deserve Each Other’s Love – L.T.D.
Cry Together – The O’Jays
Never Let You Down – Maze
Sail On – Commodores
You Are Everything – The Stylistics
You Are My Lady – Freddie Jackson
I’ve Got Love On My Mind – Natalie Cole
I’ve Got So Much To Give – Barry White

Nice list huh … If I was to put of every song from my father’s era, this blog entry would take up so much bandwidth my internet service provider would thing I’m posting the damn things to share.

And I haven’t even mentioned the stuff from the Isley Brothers. Before the band broke up (and Ron turned into a dirty old man and a tax cheat), they were consistent in putting out a GTD banger every year.

Some of the hits include “Summer Breeze”, “For The Love Of You, Pts. 1 & 2”, “Voyage to Atlantis”, “Grove With You”, “Choosey Lover”,

“Footsteps in the Dark” and my favorite (and the one that I know that I’m going make the future Mrs. Dawg pregnant by), “Between the Sheets.”

Yes, the GTD song was a staple of many of a household. Your boy did the same and thanks to MP3s I was able to work not one but two lists depending if I knew it was a Pre-GTD night or a for sure GTD night.

Sadly enough now, I can’t even tell you a list of songs to get busy with. I mean sure we get a couple of nice ones like “Bed” from J Holiday and “Last Time” by Trey Songz but these aren’t songs that I think that Rappers are going to sample or my children are still going to use to get their wives pregnant.

Now its all about GTD in the literal sense. When singers used to tell women how much they loved them, now it’s about literally getting ass on wax.

I mean now we are putting our sexual fantasies on records.

But I didn’t start this post to bash the current state of R&B, I want to praise the GTD song list.

Everyone needs one … its just too bad that we can only pull songs from the past rather than the present.

Letter To The BlackWoman

Hello Blackwoman,

It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to you woman to man.

No B.S. No Bluster. No Strum und Drang. Just two people sharing thoughts and ideas.

You remember the days don’t you? Those happy times back in the day we had a love for you. It was a good love. It was a love that said that we had to have each other’s backs because the world was against us.Either marching with Martin or using Necessary Means with Malcolm, we didn’t care. We told the world frequently and often that “You were All I Needed To Get By”, that “Ain’t No Mountain was High Enough” or love was “Solid” We loved each other, wanted each other, cared for each other.

Through thick and thin, through lynchings and cross burnings, through fire hoses and dogs … we had each other.

Unfortunately, things changed. I’m not sure when but suddenly it wasn’t fashionable for Blackmen to love you as much as they did before. No more did we praise you in music and word and quite frequently we failed to acknowledge your presence as the backbone of the Black Experience.

So because Blackmen hurt you by our words and actions, we became less of a desirable option for you to be with, to support and to honor.

No one should put blame on the other. We were both at fault … and the chasm grew wider. So times passed and our kids didn’t have the same love for each other.

Supahead was more than just a word to some people, she was an industry to herself. R. Kelly was using Blackgirls as his own urinal, all the while singing about the “Bump and Grind.”

So the anger boiled over and now simple hellos from Blackwomen and Blackmen are now met with skepticism from the other party.

Now when we were talking about each other like it was cold and disrespectful. We described each other in way different term:

“Nigga’s Ain’t Shit.”
“Bitches Ain’t Shit But Hoes and Tricks.”

We don’t talk to each other Blackwoman. I’ve had a hand in that personally and for that I need to apologize.

However we both know that we can’t continue doing this to each other. Because for all the screaming we are doing at each other:

“The Attitude … That’s why I don’t date sistas!”
“White Men know how to treat a Black Woman!”

It doesn’t solve the problem, it doesn’t give the answer and all we get is white noise.

I still love you Blackwoman and deep down I know that you love me too. I know that this is only a temporary blip on the radar. Soon the Blackman is going to get his shit to together in a way that it was before Malcolm, Martin and Medella.

We have too … we got too. Because we have kids out there who think its okay to say “I Need A Soulja,” “Project Bitch” “Hood Boy” or “Bad Bitch.”

These are not labels that should be for the future mothers and fathers of our children.

Because if we don’t there won’t be any of US any more.

Story Scene … For Adults Only

The rain washed against her window pane and even though it was just outside her reach she could hear tap, tap, tap of each water droplet.

It beat with a rhythm that should have been soothing. Soft. Subtle. Sanguine.

Instead it beat that burrowed inside her and seemed Sensual. Sexual. Seductive.

She found herself sighing in reaction.

Tap. Tap. Tap.The rain picked up in intensity which exponentially increased the urge that she immediately felt in other parts of her of herself.They seemed to thump, thump, thump with an exciting yet maddening thrill.It was the preverbal itch that she could not scratch.

She needed – no craved something more. She missed a soft sensual touch that usually accompanied soft sensual kisses that usually preceded soft sensual lovemaking

She stood up in bed while reaching to her right where her customary glass of wine and Black and Mild Cigar was still waiting for her. In a combination of moves she lit the cigar and drank the remaining bits of wine left from the previous hours of drinking.

Suddenly a flash tore through the sky just outside her window. Lighting.

Its appearance tormented her with its beckoning call while the rain outside was poured harder.

Silently she resorted to an old childhood staple in which she counted the seconds…

“One Mississippi, Two Mississip–”

…To the thunder. It rumbled harder and seemingly echoed just a powerfully inside her soul as well as the outside of the house.

This made the “hunger” speak with a nearly inhuman voice.

It didn’t help that she was naked and could feel her own nipples harden just under the sheet that kept her from being exposed to the elements.

She was hoping her glass of wine and a freshly lit Black and Mild would do the job to calm the urge inside her. However she already was up to a steady pace of four puffs for every swallow of wine but she still did not feel any more comfortable than when she started.

The rain still mocked her but she couldn’t help but turn towards the window and stare at it.

Suddenly, she felt a brush against her spine. It traveled softly from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.

She smiled.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” She said softly, familiar with touch. “I thought you would be working.”

“It can wait.” He told her. “It’s raining.”

She felt him still touching him. This time he was mapping the contours of her body with his whole hands as he was a faith healer looking to heal her.

It did more than that.

The rain was lustfully having fun playing with her emotions and her loins. She succumbed, turned and kissed him passionately.

Their tongues and lips met and she could taste the exciting taste of this passionate moment.

That and the black and mild that she smoked earlier.

The smoke passed from her mouth into his before it escaped into his nostrils and out into the open air.

She moaned her approval of the trick she just performed.

She heard him moan as well. She wasn’t sure that he was feeling the moment or the emotion that he had held for her for so long.

She kissed him again.

This time with more passion than before this time she pulled him tightly against her body. She could feel the thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat in several locations both above and down below.

She knew he had to go back to work but she knew that they both wanted to milk every possible moment into this single act.

She felt his heartbeat and his member getting harder.

“Damn.” She exclaimed. Her lips feasted on his as if there were no other nourishment that could contain her.

He fought against her slightly and attempted to pull away from her and echo her sentiment. “You are so damn–”

The woman grabbed the back of his head and pulled him close to her again. Time was passing and she no longer wanted to wait.

She needed him.

She hungered for him.

The rain agreed.

With much force from her part, she tore off his clothes. There was limited light but she could easily make out his bare, muscular, chocolate form and it made her purr at the seemingly delicious sight.

Without further thought, she reached out, grabbed him below the waist, and like a magnet pulled him in her direction.

It did not take much time before he was at the entrance of her inner sanctum.

She saw him smile and threw him one in less than a second.

In even less time than that he had entered her. She could feel the warmth and the full length of his member as he slid into her.

She heard herself hiss lustfully.

“Take me.” She commanded.

He responded by pulling back slightly and her womanhood gripped him tightly.

Her hands rubbed across his face lovingly and urged him to do the business that nature urged them to do.

She saw him close his eyes and reared back his head in exhilarating triumph as he began to move. Slowly at first, but as each moment continued his movements became much-hurried in pace.

Thanks to the rain, she was already on the edge so she needed that gentle push from him to send her over that edge.

She tried to control herself but his movements made that impossible … damn she was close.

He leaned close to her ear and in a voice just above a whisper, he told her of the things that she was doing to him. The way that she called his name, the way that she touched his wanting flesh, the way that her thrust met his . . . they were stroking the fires deep inside him.

He told her other words both naughty and nice to convey his feelings to her, she responded by saying his name again. She surprised him further by running her nailed fingers across his back.

A roar of pleasure was trapped inside her throat. When it was finally released, moments later, it nearly shook her to the core because of its near animalistic magnitude.

“Sheeet,” She cooed, knowing well enough what she was doing to him.

He kissed her again. However, this time he paced himself and delivered a long and laborious kiss to her

With her eyes now closed, she could feel him as he felt his way around her body…

Touching her face…

Touching her neck…

Touching her full and heaving breasts….

All while she urged him and pleaded for him not to wait any longer.

The rain increased with tympanic force creating a symphony that they hungrily made love to.

The sexual power that surged through the two of them fueled them to do things within the act of lovemaking that they once thought they could not try before.

Exotic things…

“Ohhhh,” she moaned.

…Erotic things…

“Yesss.” He groaned.

…Enticing things…

“Uhhh,” They both moaned.

They seemed to make the experience more favorable for both parties.

They continued … thrusting and arching … arching and thrusting … moving as one entity engrossed in physical pleasure.

The movement of their bodies continued with near perfect erotic precision. She was the ying to his yang as each movement he gave met with an equal and pleasing reaction from her. They wanted to make this trip together.

They had plenty of time.

They had plenty to give.

The lust inside them built to such a feverish pitch that if the energy they expelled were capable of combustion, her home would have been engulfed in flames.

“I’m on fire.” She heard him say, oblivious to the irony of the statement.

She delivered another kiss to him quickly. Her tongue did wonders inside of his mouth and made her even dizzier with anticipation of the moment.

He edged her onward with naughty words. In the back of her mind, she knew that within a few moments she would take that leap from the edge…

She growled.

…they leapt from the edge into the abyss…

He moaned.

“More…”

“Yessss…”

Suddenly…

He grabbed her hand and leapt with her into that place at the exact moment when she felt his seed was released from him. As if it was fate, it mingled with hers and truly made the lovers one. The both shivered slightly as she received him.

They slowly drifted from their plateau into the reality of the real world. At that moment, they could have cared less about their surroundings. All they wanted in the world was in each other’s arms and nothing riches or otherwise could have made things better than this moment.

Meanwhile the rain continued to fall unabated.

For the first time since she started … she didn’t care.

Michelle & Barack Obama Prove That Black Love Aint Dead.

Baby
To let you get away is crazy (Let you get away)
so I’m doing what it takes
To make you pledge your love to me
You see cause I’m tryna be your lady
For ever and ever baby
The picture wouldn’t be the same
If you weren’t standing next to me
Can’t you see I’m fallen“Fallen”-Mya

__________________

Black Love Ain’t Dead.

Yes, I know you heard me say it before in this and several other post but you have to know it’s true. I’m hear to tell you that despite the fact that Black Men rap about women like they were sexual accessories or black women continue to tell each other that Black Men Ain’t Shit,
Black Love for the most part is not dead.

I believe this to be true because thinking of it any other way means that I’ve given up.

I’m reminded of when I was younger and used to watch the Cosby Show. The relationship between Clair and Heathcliff Huxtable seemed so genuine in nature. They slept, fought and made up with each other in such a way that you knew that they two of them fit together.

I knew I wanted a marriage like that someday.

When I was older and in college I found myself gravitating towards the Cosby Show’s spin-off, A Different World. There were many couples who emulated Black Love but none like Dwayne Wanye and Whitley Gilbert. The two knew each other since the show’s first airing but never truly became the romantic stuff of legend until the third season when they both played a game of cat and mouse.

And who could forget the moment when Dwayne declared his love for Whitney (and she as well) on her wedding day. (For the record, if my fiancé’s ex-boyfriend comes interrupting my wedding with that he’s going to get a beatdown … church and family be dammed)

There hasn’t been much of a record of black love lately. I mean I’m sure that it’s been floating around but nothing that you could tangibly see from week to week. I mean Oprah has Steadman but I see more warmth between her and Gayle than her and Steadman. (Please note that I’m not insinuating anything … I’m just staying). Janet has Jermaine Dupri but they both stated they ain’t getting married anytime soon and she may fall out of the public eye if she puts out another garbage album.

I really did feel that hope was lost on this one. Until of course a friend of mine sent me this picture:

Pretty isn’t it.

Just a man and a woman embraced in a moment of intimacy I haven’t seen in a long time between Black Folk in public. Now of course it’s in front of a rally thrown in support of his election campaign but you can see the warmth there.

Some may say that the Michelle and Barack Obama are playing to the cameras but you see you can’t fake genuine love like that. You can’t just put on a face while you’re in front of millions and expect to turn it on when it suits the masses. (I’m looking at you Al and Tipper Gore)

People will see right through it and eat you alive. If you don’t believe me I give you this couple:

I mean come on … do you think that Bill and Hillary even look at each other like this any more:

Honestly, I don’t think that Bill has even touched that since the Monica thing and they are just trying to keep it together because Hillary needs the Secret Service Protection and our government is too cheap to spring for it for both spouses.

Well there was this one picture that leaked on the interwebs. As you can see it was a little older because Bill’s Hair hasn’t greyed from all of the stress he’s taken working on a marriage that’s clearly around for political reasons.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Anyway, I love that Michelle and Barack seem so much in love. Now I’m not an Obama Stan, I’m just a fan of love in all of its forms and it’s good to see two seemingly attractive black folk who look like they love each other dearly.

Which is why you need to get that man into office.

A friend of mine says that you need to vote Barack into office, not because you need a middle class tax cut but you need someone to inspire Black Children towards lofty goals. I add to that by saying you need to do it to inspire Black men and Women of what to become.

Here you have a Black Man who’s not afraid of letting people know that in some cases his wife runs the show and you have a Black Woman who’s not domineering and occasionally acquiesces to her man.

A couple that would include a Black Man who is intelligent and a Black Woman who is his equal. Imagine the possibility of this concept that is not a fictional creation but rather a real life counterpart that would play out week to week.

Seriously, wouldn’t it behoove not only Black America but America as a whole to see a loving couple run this country back into health.

I pray that is the case.

Because for every Rap song that brings out the worst in men or every woman that does the same type of dirty, I’m going to need that balance again.

I’m going to need my Clair and Heathcliff Huxtable to show me that Black Love Ain’t Dead.

If you want that to you should be thinking of the same.

Barack and Michelle ’08.

I Love Love!

So I want to write this love story. Not just any love story but something that will perhaps finally say something that I’ve been trying to say for the longest.

Black Love Ain’t Dead.I know this is a shock coming from a person in my position with no steady girlfriend or even prospects on the horizon. However I’m a believer in love and all of the joy that it’s brought to me and my friends. Love in any form in a good thing and I challenge anyone to say different.

I know what you’re saying, “But Dawg should you really be talking with your slate of those fucked up women on your list.”

I say to you … Yes.

Scratch that … HELL YES.

If you need to know the ins and outs of a football game are you going to go to a rookie or a professional? I say to you that I am a professional … I’ve dated all types of women in all types of situations. So I know what’s up … you ain’t going to find a bigger cheerleader for love than you will me.

Again I say: I AM A PROFESSIONAL … I AM ALWAYS IN LOVE’S CORNER.

Love has meant more to me than a lot of things. I’m talking about all sorts of love: Friendship Love, Romantic Love, Parental Love … etc.
I know I write a lot in this blog about hating the dating game, drinking the hateraide when it comes to some women or even wanting to give up on dating as a whole, but as always I remain a true believer even at my lowest point.

So just because you are at a low point don’t mean that you stay there.

You know they always say that the biggest cynics are incurable romantics and I guess that’s me. I don’t feel that I’ve been placed on this planet to be alone. In fact before all of this doubt and self hate that I used to have, I always ran into one romantic adventure after another.

As my friend , The Doctor used to tell me. “What I like about you is that you always get back on that horse.”

I think I have both reins this time.

So in the past I gave up a lot of my loves because I hated myself for mistakes that I made.

Writing.

Sex.

Love.

I tossed them to the side plenty of times because I wasn’t feeling worthy of any of it.

But I’m back … at least I think I am. I keep hearing from folk that Black Love is dead but for some reason I don’t think that way.

Well at least not all the way. As the Doctor once said, “Black Love Ain’t Dead … But It’s Sure As Hell On Life Support.”

I’m a Stan for love but I’m not totally loony in thinking that sugar drops and rainbows are going to fix all the problems in the Black community. We all need to do our part … change the mindset that pointing fingers negatively will change the negativism.

So when someone tells me that the bad things about Black Men and Black Women, I’m going to remind them of how we are Black Kings and Queens that helped built this country. I’m going to remind them bow Black Men and Black Women raised pastors, ambassadors, inventors and (maybe) a Black President. I’m going to remind them that with out the love of a Black Man and A Black Woman They would be the person that they are now.

I believe that things are going to be the way they once were … they have to be.

God didn’t create me to be alone … or shunning my advocacy for Love.

And I’m going to start with that love story I’m going to write.

More later.

I’m In Love With A Stripper!

Sorry for not writing yesterday. Normally I put something down but I missed last night because I was visiting my second favorite place other than GameStop.

The strip club.

Ya’ll just don’t understand my love of naked women. There is something about seeing a woman in her birthday suit that you just can’t get walking down the street. I know that makes me seem wrong but I’m damn addicted to seeing the female form in all of its nudity. Add that to talking another woman along you are damned to have a good ass time.

Let me break down the Good, The Bad and The Damn Ugly:

The Good:

1. The women. It was a good mix of women there last night with a lot of shades. What I also noticed was there were a lot of women out there who had ass. Sorry I should say ASS. Got Damn I mean there were some stallions out there. Oh man I would be in a strip club every week if I could afford it.
2. The company. As I said before it’s always good to have a woman on your arm at the club. Gentlemen if you want to get yourself a show or some attention from the dancers, have a woman on your arm because you are going to get noticed. Sometimes the dancers are going to engage in some “girl talk” with your companion, other times they just want to put on a good show for your girl. Well sometimes it works (see The Bad). My companion for the night was
   espnchick1920. Now she told me that she loves the strip club but always finds that the clubs in DC treat their patrons like unics by surrounding the dancers with a no touch zone. (Again more on that later). Anyway espnchick1920 seemed to like the women working and the drinks that we were slinging down were pretty good as well. She’s cool peeps and its nice to take out some down time and not have to worry about the male/female dynamic. We were just two homies hanging out … well I won’t fuck my homies but that’s another story.
3. The music. Now I know its not right to say but there’s a reason that Soulja Boy gets air play on the radio. What they do is try out the songs at the strip club and which ever dancer gets the most play off the song during solos or lapdances usually gets spins on the radio station the next couple of weeks. (JD is famous for doing this). Anyway I love this type of music. It has no redeeming value and sounds good.

The Bad:

1. Getting your drink on. You need to have a low level tolerance in order to get your drink on. The club needs to make money so the best way to do so is to water down the popular drinks. That means Hennessy for 8 bucks a shot and patron for 25 (an actual cost when I went to Magic City). So I either have to come out of pocket or drink beer for the rest of the night. I picked beer. Good for a buzz but a little heavy on the waistline.
2. Dancers who take a hands-off approach to dancing. This is kinda a pet peeve of mine it didn’t happen to me per se but I noticed it with a number of dancers. Why bother to even dance in a club in Atlanta if you nearly have to stand across the room. Some strippers have taken a No Touch Zone to dancing. They’ll strip out of their costume, dance around with the music and play with their titties like they are dancing in front of their mirror while getting ready for bed. Like this chick: Look I don’t begrudge with the girls are doing (KP used to tell me horror stories when she had to work) but if you want me to spend money on you … you got to make me horny. Otherwise I’m going to have that look on my face like I’m studying you for a book report. (Now seemingly this rule is different for women becauseespnchick1920 was getting broke off like she was throwing money in the air) I tell you if I was a woman I would be a Lesbian Pimp!
3. Strippers who look bored. I found several of them in the early shift when we arrived and frankly it looked sad. I personally don’t think you should get involved in stripping unless you got the feel for the job. Like a porn star with a bad attitude it shows in the performances. You have to understand that you are in the customer service business and that means you have to get your smile on. (In the words ofespnchick1920, “Can you at least pretend you want me for 5 minutes?” – More on that quote later)

The Damn Ugly:

1. Christian Tramp Stamp: I’ve never seen these before and I ESPECIALLY never saw them on the back of a stripper in a strip club before. Doesn’t that touch all sorts of wrong?
2. The stripper that brought her girlfriend along: Look I know you love her and all that but it’s a little tough to get at least attached to you when your girlfriend is sitting in the corner giving you the stink eye whenever you give them a touch. (Which was commented by espnchick1920 earlier)

But overall I had a good time. (Well there was the stripper with the gnat-swollen titties and one with glasses that threw me for a loop but more on those later.

Oh there was a stripper that turned me out. I think it’s was because of my love for these earthy chicks but this stripper had me going. She was a light cocoa brown with dreads and fat ass. This woman put in work and danced in such a way that I got my first Strokers Hard On. Usually I’m a little hands-off and take in the stripper from distance … detached.

But when this chick put her head in my lap and her dreads just splashed across my jeans, I had visions of blowjobs dancing in my head. I swear if I ever end up going back there I’m asking for her directly.

Now if I can just remember her name.

*sigh*

More later.