At last a real challenge (and at last a non emo post)

It may come as a surprise to all except those people who know me well enough to know how truly dedicated I am to being 'black' that lately when I've been touching myself my thoughts turn to XXL magazine's (a hip hop publication for my pasty white friends) eye candy 2007 - Angel although even I admit her seemingly acceptional dimensions leave my white brainwashing afraid of big crushed like a piglet under a sow in the night.
I guess the one thing it truly reveals is, that when it comes to 'me time' I'm as masogynistic as any man, any man in this case being represented by the entire Hip Hop industry. Yet it was not always so, alas my Beloved De La Soul had bikini clad girls in their clip for ain't no good, although they too stooped so low as to wash cars themselves clad in skimpy overalls, and followed it up a few years later with baby phat. Q-tip my favorite rapper had booty shakers in both film clips of his short lived solo career. But there was a time when wrap was about upliftment of the black man, winning the battle over their own minds. For as Q-tip stated 'what's a black nation without black unity?' in the aptly titled 'what' where he also posed other philosophical questions such as 'what is a weekend if you ain't knocking boots?'
And I don't mean that as satire, to belittle one of my rap heroes.
Mainly I mean it as a serious question, certainly sex plays a part in all things, except for religious orthodox marriages, then its called 'rape'.
But to cross over the line into more confederate friendly territory. Les Claypool of Primus can further expand this internal debate that is seemingly going nowhere in the lyrics of the Primus song/poem/interlude Speghetti Western (their Hallucinogenics DVD is an awesome watch by the way) - 'funny things about weekends when your unemployed they don't mean quite so much, cept you get to hang out with your working friends.'
Let's stop, rewind and bind.
That's right, I'm unemployed, every day for me is effectively sunday, I am living in a state of perpetual weekend.
Now for Q-tip's question, what if we were to assume it was retorical, that is the question 'what is a weekend if you ain't knocking boots?' actually could be taken to mean 'a weekend is for knocking boots'. And if I assume you are afflicted by some kind of retardation such as prudence, then what if I rewrote that as 'a weekend is for having sex' now put the two together and you'll see how my truly ecclectic music taste reveals to me the inner truths of life.
'everyday for me is a weekend, and on a weekend I should be having sex'
Good News! I am.
Bad news...by myself.
Now in previous posts I have alluded if not detailed thoroughly my ineptitude at having brief sexual engagements with people, specifically women.
A recent incedent probably highlights my ineptitude. Brenton and I have a mutual friend who we will call Shizznizzjizz for safety's sake. Shizznizzjizz is a bit of forbidden fruit for me to be honest, but is also the first girl to have written to me a letter that reads 'I want more hug, more talk, more laugh with tom. In fact I love you' not only did the bitch spell my name wrong, I lost the incriminating letter long ago, so I can't really substantiate the claim.
This love affair as she presopposes occured at a time when she had a boyfriend, so shame on her. I certainly didn't reciprocate for fear of what my toffy nosed highschool friends would think of my dating a fishy smelling savage of the orient.
To be honest I can't say the boyfriend was much of an ethical barrier to me at the time as much as I wish I could, because I simply forgot he existed and you would too by the way shizznizzjizz behaves.
Anyway 6 years later shizznizzjizz and I are sitting in a restaurant, I make a fauxpar before this point by commenting on how her hair is like dolly parton's, this would probably infuriate an Australian girl, fortunately this is a get out of jail free card for me, as she has no idea who dolly parton is.
We discussed our mutual aquantences for a while, how fat brenton is, what a pussy brenton is, mizznizzjizz got pregnant then got married, kizznizzjizz's boyfriend is from Hiroshima...
Then the logical question pop's into my head: 'Do you have a boyfriend?' what's this you say, seems logical, could be construed as fishing for information, could be an innocent enquiry relevent to catching up. Apparantly not.
'Yes' she says, then looks forlorn. I have killed the conversation. I sit awkwardly eating my okonomiyaki for a while.
Now at this point I have assumed a lot, and I still assume a lot in my reading of the situation, but one clue points to my ineptitude of keeping the 'seat warm' so to speak, that I find telling.
Of my many mutual aquantences, rest assured more than one I know is not faithful to their girlfriend, or at least may be playing a little underhandedly with their girls. Girlfriends of guys that I know who may be reading this post, relax, I know there is no way any of you could logically conclude that it is your partner who is cheating on you, or dicking you around. But that doesn't prove he isnt right?
Anyway, one of these friends at one point I described as yowai the japanese term for weak. For in my view, dicking around a girl is trying to have your cake and eat it too, I think guys should grow some fucking balls, put some finality on the girl they ain't interested in, stop encouraging them, and then enjoy some guilt free conscientious dicking. Hence my judgemental frame of mind.
At another point I was talking about a girl I was infatuated with but never made a move on because of them always having a boyfriend(s). At this point Shizznizzjizz described me as yowai from which judgement I can draw a difference in cultural values, although they may not be mutually exclusive, affording shizznizzjizz a comfortable 'hypocracy zone'

My cultural perspective = it is weak to cheat on your girlfriend
Shizznizzjizz's perspective = it is weak not to cuckold the boyfriend of a girl you like.

I could assume from this that Shizznizzjizz would not see her boyfriend necessarily as a significant obstacle to my entering 'the secret garden'.
But I ruined that by putting the issue on the table, possibly dampening her mood by seemingly obliging her to talk about how much she liked her boyfriend. These conversations I hate, even with ugly, boring people who I would never want to touch with Brenton's penis. So it didn't follow that path.
Other clues were when shizzjizznizz's other called her that evening when we were both at kizznizzjizz's house, she made no mention of the negligible fact that she was catching up with her foreing friend tohm. Furthermore directly after said conversation, kizznizzjizz shot off a rapid fire question, to which shizznizzjizz replied with a vigourous shaking of the head, as if kizznizzjizz had suggested something stupidly dangerous.
But don't worry, I'm not about to do anything unethical, other examples of my ineptitude in this context are:
'do you wan't to work in Japan?' - :)
'definitely not.' - :(
'what if you married a japanese girl?' - :)
'then I'd slash my wrists' - :(
I'm exceptionally good at putting the nail in my own coffin, if I get to the point where I show enough competence to even ponder the ethicality of a female engagement, I should be giving myself high fives.
So where does that leave me on my endless weekend for knocking boots? who's boots shall I knock with? to confess knocking boots is unlikely in Japan, as it is impolite not to take off your shoes when entering almost anything semi official or important.
But this is finally one of my anticipated Musha Shugyo challanges, finally a test that is going to make me stronger, faster, more cat like in my reflexes and man like in my masculinity.
I am starting to crave love and companionship. I am starting to pine for some soft, warm, nice smelling girl in bed in the morning, to roll ontop of my arm, cutting off my circulation until I can take no more and have to jerk it out, yanking out some of their hair in the process (head hair you filthy fucking...).
Starting to miss someone to take walks with. Someone to gang up on my unpopular and socially awkward friends with. Someone who makes me wash and tidy shit. Someone who I can call pet names and teach new swearwords.
My mind has already begun the process of piecing together my ultimate girlfriend, that nobody else can see. This is a long arduous process similar to good management, of taking as many good concepts as possible and bundling them together until it is totally unachievable. In the office this is where you go: Okay, nothing is better than face to face communication, but email is instantaneous, so I want IT to come up with an face to face email system, like video conferencing, but I want it to be mandatory for every work desk. But also I want the face to face real time communication to be storeable in the email inbox, so we can access it whenever we want.
But for me it is more like: I want a down to earth country girl, from an exotic foreign country, she has to have a nice arse, but also be interesting enough to talk to when she turns around, can't be prudish about sex, but has to have a strong personal moral code, needs to be shorter than me, like basketball, good smile, good laugh, athletic and competitive whilst being creative and social. Playing in a classical quarter in a dorky cousins sitting room doesn't cut it as creative. Dresses like a b-girl but doesn't want to always go clubbing on a friday night, assertiveness and to the point is good, whilst possessing plenty of diplomatic tact, dietary restrictions are absolutely unwarrented, needs to be of petite build for reaching high shelves and shit, into dancing but likes to spend a lot of time reading and sitting around the house...
This is fun, and I'm afraid I won't stop, of course at the same time you go okay I obviously want someone intelligent and professional, so that they come home from work somewhere in the ballpark of this.
In short I know I will torture myself coming up with some torturously impossible version of my soulmate until my personal add reads like the following:

Simian looking for Evolutionary Hand Up

M 24 yo, meaty legs, underdevoleped upper body, currently unemployed.
State finalist in DAV debating 2001
seaking:
Cultured, 24~28yo female financial advisor who declined lucrative modelling contract, must be 'soft bodied' despite rigourous work out routine from cycling and basketball, in possession of IQ betwixt 132~147 but averse to phd studies do to lack of practicallity, must enjoy Alternative and Grunge Rock as well as Old School Rap, artistic haircuts welcome unless they make you look like a dyke. If interested simply email details with answer to following conundrums:

1. If there are four people named A, B, C & D on one side of a ravine in the middle of a dark cloudy night and they all have to cross a vine bridge that is rotten and will collapse within 17 minutes, and the bridge only supports 2 individuals per crossing, and the group only has one flashlight which they have to use and can't throw over the ravine, and each member of the group can cross the bridge at different times A - 1 minute, B - 2 minutes, C - 5 minutes, D - 10 minutes. How can all four members get to other side safely (assuming that in a pair they travel at the slowest members speed) within 17 minutes?

2. You are in the middle of a lake in a boat, the lake is a perfect circle in shape, on the shore there is a monster you can outrun on foot, provided you can land your boat before he reaches you, the monster is extremely logical, has perfect eyesight (night and day), never sleeps and never eats, it cannot swim but can move 4 times faster than you can in a boat. How can you land the boat safely?

So you can imagine how many lady suitors I will be swamped with in my first 10 minutes of posting the add.
In reality I know the adjustments to my standards will simply be as fallout of the past couple of relationships:

is someone I am attracted to, emotionally mature, can make decisions independantly of parents.

But alas, this is the worst time for me to be pining, to be swooning, to be constantly pondering my next partner. Because I am travelling, and will be for the next 5 months at least. So to have this need suddenly arise has suddenly made the whole process quite interesting.
Brenton's dilemma is more interesting possibly, in that his predicament is
'I want to work here for at least 3 years, but I don't want to get married, I don't want to be tied down to this place' that would be easy if my friend Bryce said it, but Brenton from past experience is possibly the only person worse than me, at getting neck deep in a relationship with very little effort, he has a face that says pussy whip me and I presume a tatto on his arse that says 'fuck me here'.
I think at least in the short term he and I will be having a lot of hand parties (seperately, we ain't boarding house students after all).
I think though, my white upbringing has brought about an elastic snap back from Angel's junk filled trunk (which really is more like one of those limo's with a spa in the back) to a desire for what Bryce calls 'an arse like a ten year old boy' but now officially the challenge, the longing, and my test of patience versus over active imagination finally collide.
Who will be the victor?