Take a good, long look at the picture above. I can remember when it first hit the internet – and I damn sure remember how that .png comforted me through long stretches of nani-less weeks as a faithful dude, seemingly trapped in the confines of a long-distance relationship (which is another topic for another day). At the time, Stacey Dash was an ageless wonder of Black beauty that appealed to every superficial bone in my body.
Hell, I’m sure there’s a ton of men AND WOMEN of all races, creeds and backgrounds who felt the same way about her because, well, we live in a superficial-ass society. While this is not the essay to explore the existential crisis of whether superficiality is innate or a product of a society that commodifies beauty, the fact of the matter is that today, we live in a world where it’s harder to NOT make perfunctory assessments based on good looks.
That last sentence may make some folks uncomfortable, because they see themselves as sapiosexuals and they feel that the characterization of praising attractiveness doesn’t apply to them.
Now, I’ve always had a difficult time with this word sapiosexual. It doesn’t feel like a thing that is as common to the masses as many people would like me to believe it is. See, I’ve always thought of sapiosexuals as women who are turned on MORE by a man’s mind than the v-cut under his six pack, and men who become more aroused at the size of a woman’s IQ than the size of her waist-to-ass ratio. The thing is, it just doesn’t seem like that’s the case in REAL life. A true sapiosexual, as I see it, shouldn’t need superficial qualities to enhance their attraction AT ALL – which is where self-identifying as sapiosexual typically falls flat to me. I just don’t see a woman passing over Idris Elba because Ben Bernanke made her so wet after espousing on deflationary episodes and aggregate demand (and vice versa for men).
But it’s more than fair to say that there’s far more than just the two extremes of sexual attraction. That’s why I used to label myself a somewhat-superficial, sapiosexual. That was my way of saying that I definitely NEED a woman I find attractive, but I also need someone with brains, personality and common sense. I actually believed that most people, men and women, more realistically fell into that description. I was confident in this ideology –
Until I heard Stacey Dash talk about – well, anything,
I could go on – but I won’t.
Truthfully, when she joined Fox “News”, the sustained erection I’ve had for her since Clueless, took a massive hit. But, to see her go full coon-for-coin was just to much to bear – and she was effectively excommunicated out of my mind, not just as some sexual plaything, but more importantly as a woman I respect. On some real shit, her Black could’ve cracked in epic Lindsay Lohan proportions, and if she had maintained a semblance of intellectual esteem (which is obviously little more than a product of hope and ignorance on my part), I would’ve still found her sexy. Now I don’t know, nor care, to what extent she believes the bullshit that drips out of her uninformed and incurious mouth, but I do know that her embracing ignorance was the straw that broke my erections back.
And it was at that point that I realized that I’m not really a somewhat-superficial sapiosexual – I’m a superficial, inverse-sapiosexual. I’m not someone who was ultimately turned on by listening to women expound on neuroscience and the reformation of the welfare state. I’m just a man who maintains attraction to beautiful women – until they say some dumb shit.
In some universe, I could actually find Megyn Kelly sexy – just not in this one, where her idea of passionate journalism is defending Santa Clause’s whiteness. While I have boys that could smash, date or even marry either of these women, regardless of what they think or say, I just couldn’t see myself laid up under Stacey Dash, grabbing her hips while she was riding me, legs straddled over my hips, whispering in my ears, “BET is reverse-racism” before she busts a nut.
That shit is not what’s hot in the streets.
This Is Your Conscience