The boy Wale sat down with the crew of Honey magazine recently. In his interview he dropped some knowledge on the difference between making whoopie and laying that solid pipe. I’ve had this conversation 100 dam times in my life but never summed it up as clearly as what you’re about to read. The next time a woman asks me for advice related to the topic, I’m just going to refer her to this post. Fellas, don’t be mad at Wale for putting it out there lol. We’re all adults and we should all know what it is that we’re dealing with. You’d be surprised at how many women just want to get smashed and don’t care anyway. Honesty is always where it’s at in my humble opinion. Anyway, read on…
“The art of making love seems like a pastime, whereas f*cking, has become this generation’s making-out. I think men pursue it a bit more aggressively then women — after clubs, after school, etc. I personally enjoy the occasional quickie but never OD. Too much sex can be counterproductive, and truthfully, I’m pursuing monogamy — even if it is pessimistically searching. Sexing, in my humble opinion, has nothing to do with feelings or physical attraction for that matter. I think a woman can be sexy but not cute or bun-able (aka “wifeable” in DC terminology). These women are the ones who get me thinking ‘bout pulling their hair back and moving some furniture, but nothing more then a 15-minute — 25 if there’s some VSOP nearby. There is no passion, no strings attached. There may be welts and bruises.
It’s essentially a sexual spar between two vigorous opponents — with no losers. Henney with no chase. No Jodeci. No kissing. Get your clothes and leave when it’s over. Please don’t sleep next to me. Please don’t call me for 24 hrs… and we can do this again.
But don’t assume I haven’t been on the receiving end. I’ve even mistaken a f*ck for a love session before. Not fun. Making love is simply put: poetry in motion. Stroke her to the beat of her favorite song. Strawberries, Champagne, a bubble bath, eye contact. Hearing her heart beat while slowly handling business.
The aftermath of lovemaking is almost as important as the actual act. Gazing at the ceiling until we doze off. Running fingers through hair. Her playing with the dreads, ears, or whatever she deems necessary after the act. Sometimes a female needs to be reminded that there are feelings behind the sex. And to never be confused with sexing.
Making love, in my opinion is what makes the world go round. The toughest dude, the most cold hearted gold-digger — they all have that thing. Even if it’s buried in a dark place. I believe the art of making love (when it ACTUALLY is LOVE… MUTUALLY) is like an exercise of the soul. It’s like massaging the deepest feeling you could have for someone.
Long story short; if we are just screwing, don’t call unless you are making an appointment and when we are done, don’t wait around for breakfast. CIAO!”
Check the rest of the interview at Honey Magazine
I got serious and looked into his eyes as his looked into mines and I actually enjoyed it. He tells me to relax, let my mind wander, and just look at him. At first it was hard, but something in me let go and I felt comfy. This goes on for about an hour, subtle smiles, smirks, and compliments. A freakin hour of uninterrupted eye contact! He asks for my hand and grabs the other (never taking his eyes off of me.) Next thing I know his lips are on mine. When we kissed I felt his energy all over and through me. I thought I was gonna melt away it was utterly amazing. Now it’s damn near 4 am..we say our g’byes and we agree to chill the next day.