Flint, in New York
4 April 06 in Found
Let’s face it: the saga of the single white female looking for love (or lust) in the big city has been done. To fucking death. While there are still occasional standouts in the genre, when I read yet another why-can’t-I-find-a-decent-man blog, watch yet another Sex and the City-esque program, or wipe my ass with pages torn from yet another cynically-marketed chick-lit novel, I feel like I’m stuck in a recursive loop. Everything there is to say about white bourgeois pairings has been said a million times already.
This is why Flint had me at “hello.” Not only does he offer an all-too-rare male perspective on sex and dating in the big city, but his blog reflects the true diversity of New York relationships—a far cry from the whitewashed fantasyland we usually read about. Flint sounds neither boastful nor apologetic; he reveals his inner life rather than simply rattling off a litany of conquests.
There’s a poem I read in some lurid Marilyn Monroe bio when I was about 13 that I’ve never been able to put out of my head. It’s something about, “This is the wisdom, to make prayers and wish nothing of the the gods, to kiss the lips and stroke the hair, to have, to hold and in time, let go.” I’ve never been able to find the book again to get it right, but that pretty much sums up my approach to relationships.
He must be doing something right—you didn’t hear it from me, but the blogger chicks at the NYC Perverts’ Saloon were making goo-goo eyes at him all night.
[Props to Chelsea Girl]
More: Sexblogs, Blogging, New York, Black, Relationships
Comment (5)
