“OMFG!!” I gasp a quick breath of air. “It’s him. It’s hiiiiiim!” Children squeal when they’re overexcited. I squeal when I see Paul Walker — or, as I like to call him — my Paulie. I skipped Manly Monday yesterday because I wanted to share the story about Mr. Charming. So, it’s time for a Testicle Tuesday. A lovely reader that I’ll call Christina — because that’s her name — shares my appreciation of the man. (Check out her blog and tell her funky brown chick sent you her way!) A while back, Christina commented, “How about another PW post, this one is from 2006 after all.” Ah, yes. Paul Walker’s mysterious disappearance from my blog.

If you’ve recently started reading my site, you might not know this but … about a year or two ago, my blog *almost* morphed into a public shrine to Paulie. I made him my official “Boy” when I ran for president, wrote an ode to him, talked about him on one of my fake albums, sang a song called Twelve Dudes of Christmas about him, crushed on him even when he was a blonde, and received 87 blog comments when I asked my readers whether or not he was droolworthy. To the latter point, I almost shut the blog post down when it became clear that people actually thought I was Paul Walker. “I love you!” cried Daniela. “You look just like the boy my heart thinks about all the time and that guy is YOU!!!!” Some guy who goes by name Joe Jones said, “thanks paul am a big fan off your stufff.” Kaycee Blackwell? Well, she was almost rendered speechless, “hi, my name is Kaycee and I cant even think of anything to say But you are so cute Ive seen you in every and i think that your not only very cute but you are a great actor also i didnt want to say that i was your biggest fan or anything But I would like to say that your really alsome!!! and i would love to meet you one day!!!!!!” Here’s the point where you stop and ask, “Why, pray tell, would anyone think peach-skinned, blue-eyed, California surfer dude Paul Walker was the mastermind behind a New York-based website called FUNKY BROWN CHICK?” I don’t know. I really don’t know. Anyway.

Pleeeasssee stop writing about Paul Walker, many of you begged me. You spoke. I heard. I love my readers. So, if you’d had enough of Paulie, I was willing to keep my crushing private. For nearly a year. But, then, a couple of weeks ago, I saw my Paulie on the cover of the April 2008 edition of Outside magazine. How the hell can I NOT blog about him now? :) I’ll try to keep it under control this time. I promise. Now, quick, hurry up and go check out Xtina’s blog and thank her for breaking the case of the missing Paulie. :) Ooooh, a Testicle Tuesday AND reader appreciation rolled into one? It happens! So, now that you know who Christina and I are crushing on, feel free to tell us which celebrity is catching your eye these days.

Technorati Tags: demi gods, Outside magazine, Paul Walker

I invited two friends to an outdoor party at 8 pm last Friday. (It’s sounds silly and it frustrates me to do it but, for the sake of anonymity, I’ll call one friend “Apple” and the other “Orange.”) By 8:15, Apple still hadn’t shown and Orange wasn’t answering her phone. I wanted to hang out with friends and enjoy the warm weather. Instead, I was walking to a bar party alone. I finally reached Apple. She said she was at a different party four blocks away; she’d leave in an hour to meet me. “I think I’m gonna go home,” I told her. “I can’t reach Orange. I don’t really know anyone else at the party except the host. And, I really hadn’t expected to stay here too long.” My intention wasn’t to guilt trip; still, Apple felt bad. She left her other party and walked the three blocks south to meet me. When she arrived, her eyes were unfocused and her speech was slurred. At times, I couldn’t understand her sentences. She seemed drunk, not tipsy.

“Want me to get you a water?” I asked. She walked to the bar and ordered a glass of white wine. If I was annoyed before, now I was pissed. I’d invited her to the party, and now I felt like I’d been resigned to a babysitting job that I hadn’t applied for. She didn’t ask me to watch over her, and maybe that wasn’t my job to do so anyway. At the same time, I was worried (maybe overly so?) because — even though I hadn’t known Apple long — I’d only ever seen her that drunk once before. Also, I was slightly embarrassed. I’d been invited to the party and the drunk girl was my guest. So, when Apple walked over to the host and a group of other men and asked for a light, I joined her to keep an eye out.

“Where’d you guys go before this?” The host immediately asked. “She’s really drunk,” he said to me in a hushed voice after Apple lit her cigarette. Apple and I sat down and joined The Host and a guy I didn’t know at their garden table. The stranger dude had perfectly smooth skin, a great smile, and a head topped with thick tufts of dark wavy hair. Energetic and funny, he seemed to have a knack for making women feel like they were the center of his universe when he talked to them. I’ll call him Mr. Charming. “Hi,” I said as I introduced myself. He flashed me a dashing smile, extended his warm hand and responded, “Hi, I’m Charming.”

The four seated around the table became a threesome when the host left us to mingle as hosts are wont to do. As I chatted with Charming, my mood improved. Better to focus on a cute boy than a drunken girl, right? It was probably a selfish act; I should have paid more attention to Apple. She wasn’t saying much, and she didn’t know anyone else at the party. She eventually left the table and went to the bar for another drink. Orange arrived and took her seat. “What’s going on with Apple?” she asked me, “I just bumped into her on my way in and her speech was completely slurred.”

I rolled my eyes and brushed it off with a wave of the hand before introducing Orange to my conversation partner. “This is Charming,” I said. Small talk ensued until Charming eventually left the table to mingle with other party members. My eyes darted over to the bar and I saw Apple showing a bartender her dance moves. Another guest of the party came up to me and suggested that I should check in on my friend. “She doesn’t look like she’s doing too well,” he said. A party girl during my college years, I’d made a drunken fool of myself, dodged projected vomit, said and done things I later regretted, and wrestled keys from a woman who didn’t seem sober enough to drive. Much of that halted when college parties gave way to careers and I replaced drinking buddies with real friends.

When Apple returned from the bar, I mentioned additional people had asked me if she was okay. I was concerned, but I probably sounded judgmental and rude because Apple seemed annoyed. She picked up her purse and spun on her heel before spitting out, “I’m gonna go.” I felt like a bad friend, but I let her leave. I later followed up to make sure she got home okay. (She did.) Orange and I prepared to leave the party. I said goodbye to Mr. Charming and, downstairs on the streets, Orange and I got into a tiff over stuff that’s too long to repeat here. Damn it if this wasn’t a long night.

The next day, Mr. Charming contacted me and said he’d like to meet up. I accepted and, on Sunday, we enjoyed each other’s company at a Brazilian restaurant. With a Long Island Iced Tea in front of him and a strawberry Caiperena at my lips, we discussed the host, Orange, Apple and the Friday night party. He seemed surprised that Apple and I were friends. “The drunk girl was with you? It’s one thing to go out for drinks, but she couldn’t even hold a conversation. THAT’S your friend???” he joked. I got Apple’s back; I explained that she’d been stressed at work, and she’d already attended a party earlier that evening. Maybe she’d had too much to drink, but I didn’t feel comfortable talking about it because she wasn’t there to defend herself. So, I steered the topic away from her and toward me. Mr. Charming and I talked about my past lovers, dates in New York, my longterm affair that never turned into a marriage and his marriage that turned into a divorce.

Although we’d only met days before, he already reads FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com. The host from Friday’s party told him about it. “Yeah, it’s Funky Brown Chick,” Mr. Charming said, “but, I really wanna know more about the girl behind it. There’s more to you than sex and dating. You’re more than just that girl.” I told him it was difficult to lead a fractured life. Details about my dates were online but I maintained a private life of friends, family, jobs, a guy pal from back home that I cherish, etc. I’m more multi-dimensional than my blog reflects, I said. “Anyone who blogs will tell you that the best stories are the ones that can’t be blogged,” I told him. His lips curled into a delicious grin, “That’s a pity.”

Indeed, my friend, it is.

Ready? Cue the completely 100% politically incorrect blog post. Brown loves yellow. Well, at least that’s what a dating site for black and Asian singles — brilliantly called cocoabutterlove.com ( … Get it? Cocoa = brown = black people + Butter = yellow = Asian people …) — is banking on. I think they’re on to something. Hell, if you and I are friends on Facebook, you already know that I’ve recently joined the groups: Asian Men that ♥ Black Women, You and Me…..We could make BLASIANS!, A.B.A. (AsIaN BlAcK AlLiAnCe), and of course Everyone ♥’s an Asian Boy.

A while ago, my friend Karen — a proper, bourgie black chick in Chicago — embarked on a relationship with a sexy Asian-American man. “OMG, Karen,” I told her, “You know you’re gonna be known as that black girl with the Asian boyfriend, right? That’s totally gonna be your new title when people identify you. ‘You know … Karrrreeen … my friend with the Asian boyfriend.’“Clearly, she didn’t get the memo. Chicago is segregated as hell.

That’s one of the many reasons why I live in New York City.

Speaking of New York, last night my eyeballs love love LOVED looking at the sexy Asian-American (?) bartender with dreadlocks at In the Flesh Erotic Reading Series at Happy Ending Lounge on the Lower East Side. He used his strong arms to shake my cocktail before placing the filled, chilled glass on the bar. I wished he would’ve doused my warm brown skin with the liquid then licked it off with his soft tongue as I played with his dark hair. He oozed sex appeal. Now, before anyone accuses me of having yellow fever or some stupid shit like that, let me say this … As a black woman who has tasted delicious dudes from Northern Irish flavors to my fellow, brown-skinned American yummies, I love men. ALL (attractive) men. I haven’t had an Asian American boyfriend yet, but here are five reasons I think it’s time for the Asian-American male community to get down with the brown:

1. THE HAROLD & KUMAR MOVIES ARE THE NEW FRIDAY. Kal Penn? Fucking sexy. John Cho. Cutie pie. Buh-bye Chris Tucker and Ice Cube. Friday is so yesterday.

2. IT’S TRENDY. In the 80s, interracial dating meant “a black man dating a white woman.” America is over it. OJ Simpson killed it. Literally. (Kidding, of course!!!) The newest, freshest interracial pairings are all about black women lovingly interlacing differently shaded fingertips between our own.

3. IT’S SMART. NO REALLY, IT IS. Want a stupid stereotype? Asian men are smarter. Want another one? Successful black women are more likely to be single because all the black men are either unemployed, lazy, in jail or lazily unemployed in jail. I say fuck the folks who say shitty things about Asian men and Black women. Better yet? Asian men and black women should fuck each other … in bed, or against a wall, or on the floor … Yum!

4. WE BOTH BELONG TO MINORITY COMMUNITIES. Backing the political rantings of bloggers like Angry Asian Man with the strength of march-happy female EBPs? It could be powerful. We could change the world! Or, at the very least, we can supply it with very beautiful BlAsian babies.

5. BECAUSE I SAID SO. Folks, if you hear something on FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com, take it as gospel. Now, quick, somebody please help Funky Brown Chick find Sexy Asian Man.

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Photo credit: “You and Me … We Could Make Blasians” Facebook Group

Technorati Tags: Asian men, black women, blasian, blasian men, blasians, blogger, Chicago, dating blog, dating trends, Facebook, funky brown chick, funkybrownchick, interracial dating, John Cho, Kal Penn, New York, sexy asian man, tastemaker

The other day, I wrote a post about love. Anjuan Simmons, a FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com reader who has the site Transmyth Blog said, “I think that companionship is a key part of relationships, but everyone has a different Love Language.” Oooh, yum, I like that comment. It makes me think: “What’s MY love language, generally speaking?” I tend to be standoffish and keep things light at the beginning of my relationships with men. Once I’ve sussed out that the person is someone who can be trusted, has my best interest at heart and is genuinely a decent human being, I totally open up and ask for (and expect!) total commitment. I’m fairly traditional in that way. I actually prefer deep, committed relationships over surfacey, shallow dates. In New York, however, I have dates. Lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of shallow dates. I think I’m ready for more. In the past, I’ve dated guys even if I didn’t really see any real potential because, hell, you can always learn new things from new people, right? However, lately, I notice I push aside and say goodbye to dudes if I don’t see any real potential from the start. Life is short, and my time is valuable; I’m picky about who I’ll share both with. But, whatever, back to that whole Love Language stuff.

What kind of lover am I? I’m committed, sensual, intense, faithful, jealous, genuine and passionate. If I’m gonna do anything, I’m not gonna do it half-assed. So I put 100% of my little, red beating heart into the recipients of my affection; I want them to do the same. Hence, I’ve had more substantial relationships when I lived in other cities. Here in New York, I have yet to meet a man who speaks the same love language that I do. What about the rest of you out there? What’s your love language? Have you found someone who speaks the same one you do? Or — devil’s advocate here — is it necessary that coupled partners speak the same language? Discuss.

Suggested, related book: The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate

Technorati Tags: Anjuan Simmons, committed relationships, dating blogs, funky brown chick, funkybrownchick, Gary Chapman, love language, The Five Languages of Love, Transmyth Blog

Okay, okay, I’m tired of typing the word S-E-X on my keyboard. My sex life is in Glamour magazine. I’m going to Sex 2.0. I liveblogged Sex 2.0. Sheesh! Damn! Let’s talk about something else. Not that there’s anything wrong with sex, mind you. I just wanna talk about a lot of other things, too.

Love. So, I’m talking to my therapist / life counselor about my dating life last night. (By the way, if you aren’t seeing your own personal guru, you should. See “how to choose a therapist.”) Anyway, so, I’m on the plushy chair and she’s facing me in another one. The room has four seats and a couch. I’ve been seeing this woman for a little more than two months now; each session, we always sit in the exact same place. Creatures of habit, I guess. Anyway, so, as I was saying, last night the conversation turned to my dating life. I tell her that I’m ready for something substantial right now. I don’t need to get married. I just wanna settle down into something a little more intimate, more stable with a man. After I leave the session, I start thinking about love: Why is it so much more substantial and fulfilling than sex? If you’ve read this blog for any amount of time, you know that I love men; I miss being in love with a man.

Remember that movie Love Actually? It opens and closes with these beautiful scenes shot in London’s Heathrow Airport. I didn’t know it until I saw the behind-the-scenes DVD, but those clips were completely unscripted. The director set up his camera and discreetly filmed people welcoming their loved ones home from flights. It’s really touching. So, I dug up the clip on YouTube and I thought I’d share it with you. For me, the best thing about love is the companionship. What about you? In your opinion, what’s the best thing about love?

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CLICK HERE TO SEE LIVE-BLOGGED SEX 2.0 SESSIONS

I presented a talk called “A Brief History of Sex” at Sex 2.0 in Atlanta — a conference about the intersection of technology, social media and sexuality. My session gave a quick and dirty explanation of how sex has changed throughout the ages using slides borrowed from the professor who taught an undergrad “Human Sexuality” psych course at my university.

I’d never tried the whole liveblogging thing before, so signed up with coveritlive.com and gave it a go. Tidbits from the conference — with the bulk centered on Viviane’s talk about “how to be a sex blogger” — are below. Disclaimer: For the record, FUNKYBROWNCHICK is a dating blog, not a sex blog. Village Voice columnist Audacia Ray once described my blog by saying I don’t “deliver a blow-by-blow (heh) account of her own sex life — but she spares no details about her constant string of dates.” What’s the difference between a sex blog and a dating blog? Good question. When Audacia asked me, here’s what I said:

“Sex blogs often have information about activities, items and events related to sexual intercourse. Dating blogs often chronicle journeys toward finding relationships — whether casual, committed, polyamorous, intimate, sexual or some combination thereof.”

Learn something every day, huh? It was great to have time to hang out with Audacia Ray, Amber Rhea, Elizabeth Wood, J Brotherlove, Melissa Gira Grant, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Regina Lynn, Tiffany B. Brown and the other lovely folks. Now, for those of you who wanna know more about sex blogging, check out my liveblog thing below. Heads up … I highly recommend you visit Sex in the Public Square right now; many of the other links Vivane provided are NSFW (not safe for work). So, tread lightly. Also, in case you missed it over the weekend, be sure to weigh in on the FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com discussion about good girls vs. dirty girls.

CLICK HERE TO SEE LIVE-BLOGGED SEX 2.0 SESSIONS

Technorati Tags: Amber Rhea, Atlanta, Audacia Ray, Elizabeth Wood, funky brown chick, funkybrownchick, J Brotherlove, live blog, liveblogging, Melissa Gira, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Regina Lynn, Sex 2.0, sex columnists, Sex in the Public Square, the history of sex, Tiffany B. Brown, Villiage Voice, Viviane's Sex Carnival

“I don’t think my sexual interests make me any less of a well-rounded, kind-hearted intelligent person,” writes my lusty friend Rachel in her anthology Dirty Girls: Erotica for Women. “I’m as likely to kiss a lover’s forehead tenderly and offer to tuck them into bed as I am to throw them down on the floor and strip them naked.” Yeah, Rachel’s a dirty girl. But, here’s the question: Is that necessarily a bad thing? “I’m realizing that everyone (or almost everyone) has a dirty and a sweet side,” she cops. “All too often we denigrate the dirty girls — the ones who dare to publicly show their naughty sides — as incorrigible sluts, rather than realizing just how exciting it is to tap into our lustiest selves. Once you crack the surface of those who are seemingly prim and proper [...] you’ll very likely find that the simplicity of the word ‘dirty’ doesn’t go anywhere near far enough to describe the kinks that lurk within them.”

Hmmm … Maybe she’s right. Besides, how does that saying go? Good girls are just bad girls who haven’t been caught yet. So, yeah, true, the “good girls” may remain secretive and never call your sensibilities into question. But, they’ll also never give you that warm, slow burn in your heart — or groin or brain — the way the dirty girls can. But, hey, why trust me with this stuff? Let’s get a guy to weigh in, shall we? In Things I’ve Learned From Women Who’ve Dumped Me, Esquire’s A.J. Jacobs explains why Dirty Girls Make Bad Friends. “So I’d listen to the stories of her escapades. And I’d pine,” he writes. “For those who’ve never endured this particular torture, how can I describe it? It’s like sitting at a restaurant while the waiter describes the mouthwatering specials–then returns to say they’re all no longer available. (Oh, and by the way, the restaurant is out of food altogether. And you have to go in the back and help with dishes. And you won’t get paid.) I can’t say for sure why I kept coming back to the dirty gals. Partly, I think, bad luck. But partly, the maddening fact that these women all tended to be interesting and funny … [T]he dirty girls keep you hanging on. Every dirty story, every dirty detail, you think, ‘That could be me.’”

Whether you’re a dirty girl or a man (or woman) pines for their stories to be about you, pick up a copy of Dirty Girls: Erotica for Women. Oh, and, be sure to check out the Dirty Girls blog to get the latest news on what the book’s filthy contributors like Carol Queen, Alison Tyler, Sofia Quintero, Shanna Germain, Lillian Ann Slugocki, Tsaurah Litzky, and many others are doing right now.

Technorati Tags: AJ Jacobs, Alison Tyler, bad girls, Carol Queen, dirty girls, erotica for women, Esquire magazine, good girls, Lillian Ann Slugocki, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Shanna Germain, Sofia Quintero, Tsaurah Litzky

Hey, folks. Sorry for the post-free day(s). Lots going on. Good stuff. Networking stuff.

Couple of blog housekeeping things … Interesting comments posted (and emails received) recently. I’ll respond over the weekend. If you’d like to track comments for a particular post, remember you can always click that “follow comments” button — or whatever the thing says — at the end of a post’s comments page. Swag giveaway winners — sending you emails with details. Will post results results when I have a moment.

And, now, Sex 2.0. Presenting this weekend. The whole thing takes place in a 10,000 square foot, fully equipped dungeon located 10 miles north of downtown Atlanta. DEFINITELY the winner for most interesting conference venue ever. I think I’m gonna live blog and/or Twitter it. If you’re around online, check here to see live video, photos, interactive commentary, etc something else.

More soon.

Technorati Tags: dungeon, funky brown chick, funkybrownchick, Sex 2.0, swag