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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

30 Is The New Wifey

The other day at my job I was minding my business making coffee and what have you, when I was treated to a heavenly vision of loveliness that is Joy Bryant. While the professional in me was relegated to cordially greeting her, that black pixie that’s always causing trouble on this site was conjuring up all kinds of creatively exploitative scenarios that I’d much rather not discuss here.

But can you blame me? The one thing that actually gets me to shut the hell up is the sight of a ridiculously fine dimer. So watching Ms. Bryant saunter throughout my job’s office for the better part of two hours instantly put my brain on pause status. She isn’t the first person to have me stammering over my words like a Tourette syndrome case, and if anything I’ve found myself more attracted to the older women of the world than to the ones in my age bracket. I would say that the reason I am is because of the years upon years of watching nubile youngsters getting plowed through by the likes of Jack Napier for free thanks to the wonders of high-speed Internets downloading that’s likely fucked up my conceptions of most women who are in their twenties, but if anything those shits showed me how to put it down on broads during the few times I actually have sex per year.

No homo.

In any matter, while most guys would probably credit Halle Berry, Angela Bassett, Lynn Whitfield and the like for introducing them to the older women generation, two particulars stood out for me: Stacey Dash [1] and Kerry Washington, the latter of which I’m sure you are all aware of my Stannery for. While I could probably never attempt to wife Stacey’s cat off the strength that her kinship to Damon isn’t exactly erection inducing, I’d still wreck those walls like a carpenter if given the chance. And if anybody has seen She Hate Me, then you know how Kerry gets down.

I think the best part about these women is that most of them have been through and past that younger, almost infantile stage where the mores of a relationship tend to be shunned for some brain surgery and Bapestas and are more willing to actually show their mate some love instead of dangle it over their heads. Not to mention, the mileage they’ve put on their tires have likely shaped it to perfection, and we all know how women get extra freaky once they hit their thirties in the first place. So while others will chase the youngling that lives on the block, you’ll likely see me trying to get my swerve on with the chick with the 401(k) plan sipping a mimosa or whatever fake-ass “grown and sexy” drink is the item du juor these days.

[1] Yowzas, yikes and sheesh!

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