I crashed a party a few weekends ago at a very fashionable club in downtown
Detroit. I was told beforehand that the party was for some 40-something "metro sexuals". My desire was to
meet some of the something something professional women that flock to these parties, in their efforts to meet Mr. Right or
Mr. Goodbar, Big Willie or Mack Daddy or Shenna.
I was fortunate enough to be accompanied to the soiree' by The Queen of Midtown.
She had no engagement that evening and graced me with her presence. We had a great time. A week later I asked
The Queen for her impression of the party. The Queen frowned. I thought she still might be upset because of the
3 half naked 30-something women who sat at our table that evening, so, I pressed her. Queenie continued to frown, then
blurted out: "All the men were gay!" I was immediately caused to recall the conversation that I had had with The Gentleman
that had told me about the party. It was the Wednesday before the party. We were sitting at the bar. The
bartender was complaining to The Gentleman that she "did not get" his crew of 40 something friends. The Gentleman paused
for a moment and politely described this particular group as "metro sexuals". The bartender wasn't buying his explanation.
I however bought it. Most of the men I know in this age group could politely be labeled metro sexual. They are
the product of Martin Luther King's dream of integration and social equality. As with all experiments, you can postulate
about outcomes but are never assured about what the final product may be.
A few years ago, I too was accused of being a metro sexual. My former
accuser is my closest female friend. I call her BabyMomma. She is a divorcee with two children. She is also
the only sister of one of my closest friends. BabyMomma and I have a legitimate "platonic" relationship as well as a
healthy attraction to one another. The result is a very stable relationship. We love each other. We even
like each other. We listen to one another. We value the other's opinion in matters of the heart and we manage
not to interfere in one another's "personal" relationships with other adults that we plan to see in the nude.
When we first started seeing one another, I told BabyMomma that I wanted to
be friends with her a long time. Time has proven me right. We took the high road. The low road would have
been tumultuous, sweaty and short lived. She has become one of my closest friends. We have bonded.
The day BabyMomma accused me of being a metro sexual, I almost popped a blood
vessel. I challenged her definition of me by defining the cultural forces I was subjected to as a manchild.
Why We Call It Old School
My older brother dabbled in the "Life".
He was a player. Like many of his contemporaries, he worked almost everyday, drove a Cadillac, wore a fresh finger wave
process, had first hand knowledge of recreational drugs and had lots of women. Some of the more enthusiastic women sold
their bodies to men and handed over the proceeds to my brother. I stop short of calling him a pimp. He was a player.
Pimps of his genre lived exclusively off of their women. Most of the
pimps I came in contact with were very volatile personalities and tended to be rather effeminine. They had stables of
women that traveled with them, at all times. They were sociable in a predatory way and generally had no close male partners.
Most of the men pimps associated with worked for them; sold them their drugs or clothing or hurt people that crossed the pimps.
My brother and his crew were at best "Chili Pimps". They spent a lot
of time together; flossing, partying and vamping on women His Crew was at the periphery of the pimp game. If members
of the Crew were lucky they would rehabilitate a worn out hooker or talk some young woman into selling her body and turning
over the proceeds to them. There were not real serious about their work. Old style pimping was hard work requiring
long hours and dedication. For the most part, the Crew prayed on women that held day time jobs by taking their money,
having indiscriminate sex with them or being summarily kicked to the curb by the women or by losing the women to other players.
One unfortunate aspect of life as defined by the MLK generation is that:
as hard as you work to keep your children away from certain things, the children try all the harder to get into forbidden
areas. All of my brother's friends were middle class. One of his friends, Bird was downright wealthy.
am 6 years younger than my brother. We were very close until he hit puberty. We were raised in a close knit nuclear
family, so we always shared information. By age 12, I vicariously knew the pimp game, the drug game, how to shoot dice
and many con games. I could French kiss a woman into arousal, had a basement do and went to after hours joints.
I led a double life for several years. By day, I was the student that never worked to his "true potential". On
weekend nights, I was the baby faced player in training.
Needless to say, when BabyMomma accused me of being a metro sexual, I bristled.
Back in the day, players and pimps used to spend an inordinate amount of time primping. They made bi-weekly trips to
the barber shop, wore custom made clothing and according to Iceberg Slim, the writer, many wore makeup.
As I described in "Fear of Black Men", to this day, I dress street pimp casual.
I have found no suitable alternative for silk shirts, cashmere sweaters and gabardine pants, in the New Age.
My hair is long and I style it. I don't wear makeup. Catty women have accused me of it wearing makeup. I grab
their hands and rub them on my face then on my clothes to dash their petty accusations. Thanks to my parents Eva and
Adolf, I have clear skin, eyebrows that look plucked and arched and eyelashes that (catty) women accuse me of applying mascara
I was introduced to the concept of metro sexuals about 2 years ago.
I'm still not sure what it means. After the party I attended, I'm convinced, among black folk, metro sexual is a polite
term for gay. I have come to the conclusion that the majority of men I encounter, under 40 are indeed gay. I draw
from my own personal experience. Men are always "hitting on me". I am better looking than some women and have
a big butt. Those attributes, however, never made me want to have sexual intercourse with men. And I never flirt
with men. I don't like men that well. Men like me or loath me or fear me.
Many might argue that many of "today's men" are
"bi-sexual". I disagree. Most of them deal with women because women
have become the sexual aggressors in our twisted social structure. Women force themselves
upon men who have little or no interest in them sexually. Women find themselves with children that men refuse to bond
with or support. Women contract deadly diseases from these blase' men they sleep with because they-the women- convince
themselves that this just "how men are" in the 21st century.
What Happen And When Did It Happen?
There have always been homosexual alliances.
In fact, what's going on now could properly be described as retro. Men have been having sex with one another since we
began standing upright on the savannas of the motherland. What has changed in the last quarter century is the appeal
factor. Being gay is presented by the media as the preferred thing to do. Homosexuals are everywhere.
Homosexuals in fact control the media. They control fashion, commerce, the arts. Probably sports too.
You can't watch a TV sitcom without having to watch some flaming queer flitting
all over the screen. The media is doing to gays what they have done to Jews, Latinos, Black and Asians historically.
Force feeding consumers cartoonish caracatures of gays and lesbians. All the queers are flamers and all the lesbians
are hard looking and mean or extremely beautiful and willing to seduce every woman they meet. None of actors look like
Chastity Bono or Elton John.
MTV tells 8 or 9 year-old boys that it's ok to lisp, dye your hair and
date the cute boy from school that lisp and dyes his hair and wears his mom's lipstick. There are dating shows with
fully half of the contestants engaging in same sexed dating. Queers redesign your home and wardrobe so that you can
become a better heterosexual man. Gay men with bad hair dos tell aspiring models how to walk, design the clothes the
women wear, make up their faces and coiff their hair.
Being gay looks very attractive on television. You can be soft, bitchy and
irresponsible. You can wear makeup, change your hair color, as often as you like, and look at other men's dicks without
guilt. Never mind that homosexual lifestyes destroy the basis of the nuclear family, obliterates monogamy, spreads drug
resistant diseases and causes hemrrhoids. The media makes it look like fun.
If the crowd at the bar was any indication, being metro sexual has to be the
greatest thing since white bread.
I'm glad I don't like white bread. I like 30, 40 and 50 something women.
Send a good looking heterosexual brother, with lesbian tendencies an email @ email@example.com .