I figure five months was long enough to make you wait. Hey, Raiders of the Lost Ark wasn't shot in a day either.

So the cops sent A and me home in separate cars. And by separate I meant that I had to find my own ride home. My friend arrived to pick me up and his first question was why I had been at the hospital, and secondly why wasn't A with me.

"I'll explain later," I replied gruffly.

When I got home, A was waiting for me. She stood outside her car looking apologetic. My friend saw the look on my face and quickly excused himself. I didn't say a word as he drove off. I headed into my house and she followed. I stopped and turned to face her at the door.

"You need to leave."

She looked at me with disbelief.

"NO." It was my turn for disbelief. "Honey, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. I'll change, I promise!"

"I'm serious, you need to leave. I'll call the cops." I started to close the door but she wedged her way in.

"You would call the cops on me? FINE! I DARE you to call the cops." It was exactly that kind of sudden flip in personality that scared the crap out of me with this woman.

I walked towards my kitchen with her following and screaming obscenities. As I picked up the phone she reached for the cord and pulled it out of the jack.

"What the fuck are you doing? Plug that back in." I said, trying to remain calm.

"You can't kick me out. You can't make me leave! How could you call the police on me, how could you do that to me!? I love you!" she wailed.

"How could I call the police? I was almost ARRESTED back there because you decided you would try to kill yourself with a fucking alarm clock. WHO DOES THAT? You know what? Fine. Don't leave. I'm leaving." I started reaching in my pockets to look for my car keys. Damn.

"Looking for these?" she smiled wryly as she lifted my keys off the counter. I had tossed them there while dialing the phone.

"Give me those," I said while attempting to snatch them from her hands. She pulled them just out of my reach.

"Come and get them." At this point I lost my cool.

"Give me the fucking keys, or so help me I'm going to murder you where you stand!" I lunged at her and she ran from me. A ridiculous chase around my kitchen ensued with us running around the corner into the hallway behind it, and back into the kitchen. I'd almost caught her when she reached into a wooden knife block and pulled a chef's knife out of it. I stopped in my tracks.

"You wanna kill me, huh? You wanna hurt me?" she spat as she brandished the knife.

I slowly backed up a few steps and carefully considered my next move. I realized that she might actually be crazy enough to use that knife and bolted in the opposite direction. We resumed the three stooges style merry-go-round chase except this time going in the opposite direction.

Now, I don't know what happened to me at this point, but something inside me snapped. I realized that, here I was, being chased around my house with a kitchen knife by this psycho that had somehow become my girlfriend. She was making my life a living hell, and I did not belong in this insane situation. I was trapped, and I needed to get out. I had nothing to lose.

Skidding to a stop on my wood floor, I turned and faced her.

"Give me that knife."

"Come and get it!" she threatened.

"Give me that fucking knife." I lunged at her and she put it to her throat.

"This is what you want, right? Huh? To see me hurt? Is it?" I approached her slowly, and she stood there, frozen, her lips trembling over the words. I deliberately reached for the knife, wrapped my hand around hers, pried her fingers open, and dropped it in the sink. She immediately dropped to the floor and began sobbing, the keys fell from her other limp hand.

I picked up my car keys and left without another word.

Now at this point, you might be thinking, "Surely, this madness is over."
(Cont'd after the jump.)
Click HERE to read the rest...

ROFLLLLLLMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! hahahahaha

We all have a certain dichotomy within us consisting of our animal and human sides waging a constant battle. The indulgences of the flesh war against the prudence of rational thinking. For some, the human within us, defeats the beast and we live our lives according to prudence and restraint. For others, the beast is in control, and the human is constantly dealing with the ramifications of what the beast has left in it's wake. Most of us straddle a fine line somewhere in between. For me, especially, this has always been an issue. As much as I like to consider myself an intelligent and moral individual, I am also an extremely passionate being with strong emotions and a lust for sensation. Perhaps it is because I am so acutely aware of my own thirst for visceral experience that I veer so deliberately away from temptation.

As a child, my parents never talked to me about sex. Most of my sexual education was garnered from the medical books my mom had left lying around the house hoping that I would somehow absorb the knowledge within them and embark upon a path towards becoming a doctor. What happened instead was they ignited an abiding curiosity within me. I have always been fascinated with the human body, and most of all our ability and innate need to procreate. As a result of my curiosity, I experienced a fairly early sexual awakening. With this confluence of intellect and hormonal development, a bloody battle ensued.

I discovered women, and all the wonderful and terrible things associated with them. Somewhere around the same time I became a christian, which further, and still does complicate my struggle. Everything around me: religion, society, and a nagging feeling inside me told me it was so wrong. But true to the cliche, it felt so right.

Nonetheless, I felt guilty. SO GUILTY. I had these urges that I knew I wasn't supposed to have. I wanted to look at porn, have sex with girls, masturbate. Half the time, I would let myself, and half the time I wouldn't. When I did, I would feel like I had committed a sin, and disrespected my own body and God. I would either repent or turn from religion lest I face its condemning glare.

And for good reason. It wasn't just for the sake of moral purity that I felt the way I did. In those moments that I erred against my better judgement and allowed my flesh to dictate my actions, I nearly always regretted it. I found myself feeling empty and hollow at the end of the day and I attributed it to falling prey to temptation. I recoiled and stayed as far away from sex as I possibly could for a very long time. There were other factors in play, of course, but the result was the same.

It wasn't just religion. I suppose it's the perfectionist nature in me. If I were to do something, I wanted to do it right. The idealist in me, clung fiercely to the idea that it ought to be special, and that I had a finite amount of self to share, and that I didn't want to dilute it by engaging recklessly. At the end of the day what would I have left for another, let alone myself? I wanted the same from whoever I was with as well. Maybe it was just a lifetime of conditioning by western culture and judeo-christian ideology.

Yet I burned. I burned with more desire than I had ever felt, and it was as if denying myself only made the need even greater, and the inevitable bursting of the dam yet more ominous. I was afraid that I would do something incredibly stupid or reckless as a result. My emotional roadblocks held me in check. But they did not prevent me from questioning the very foundations of my personal code. Why, WHY was it so wrong to feel that physical connection with another human being? How could something so beautiful in one moment, become so cheap and dirty in another? Why, WHY would God design us in such a way that we felt such an overwhelming desire to do something that was supposedly wrong? It seemed like the the universe's cruelest joke--to build a creature with an uncontrollable desire to manufacture his own destruction.

Eventually, I broke. I no longer cared. It wasn't so much that I needed to fulfill a need. That need had already been met in one way or another. I was simply tired of feeling so damn guilty all the time. I accepted that this was a natural part of who I was, who each and every one of us is. Sex is not wrong, or bad, or dirty. People are. At certain points, I thought waiting for marriage was the answer, but realistically how can that happen? Of course there are people who wait successfully until marriage, but those are also the people that get married at 21. I am not, nor will I ever be one of those people. When those rules were written, people were getting married right as puberty began. I imagine pre-marital sex wasn't such a temptation in those days. I respect and even admire people who make the choice to wait. But it's not for someone who is now twenty-eight years old, and made his share of mistakes. Not all of us are lucky enough to find true love so young. And for those of us who aren't, should we be punished by being denied the experience of sex?

I have embraced the beast, and tamed it. My rational mind and my animal nature have reached a tenuous coexistence. I still have no desire to have sex outside of a committed relationship, but I no longer feel guilty for wanting. I am okay with the fact that as much as we are humans, we are still creatures of flesh and blood with physiological needs to be met. We can't live an honest and fulfilling existence if we are constantly at battle with our own bio-chemistry and instincts. We lust after one another because it creates the surface component to a much deeper purpose than we often care to comprehend. Without sex, there is no drive to love, to bond, to reproduce. Without sex there are no families, no marriages, no drive to compete. Competition not just for resources, but to improve ourselves in hopes of finding a mate that is our match. We are human, therefore we err. In doing so, we may not get it right on the first try, but that shouldn't keep us from trying or cause us to dwell on those errors. Sex is a beautiful thing, embrace your inner beast and share it with someone deserving.

In trying to convince my friend that she needs an iphone...

(I am using this title without prior licensing from mixedbabiesrock)

I've long been of the opinion that interracial dating is a wonderful thing. Unlike some of my xenophobic fellow Asians, I think it's a wonderful thing to join two people and create further diversity and variety in the world. Uniting people from different backgrounds who then have the opportunity to learn and enjoy the intricacies of other cultures is a wonderful blessing.

Besides, mixes are really hot.

I may be a little biased being sort of mixed myself, but let the evidence speak for itself:


Dutch and Chinese


Filipino, Black, Indian, and Latina


And of course this girl: Danish, French-Canadian, and Latina


Korean and White


Japanese and White.

There's also Maggie Q, Kelly Hu, and countless others.

It's hit or miss though, sometimes things go horribly awry:


or




*shudder*

Anyway. I've dated women of varied races, but I always find myself gravitating back towards mixes. I wonder why this is? Is it because I find commonality with them because we both share a certain dichotomy to our personal identities? Or is it just shallowness manifesting itself? I've dated Russian/Korean, Indian/Viet, Japanese/White, Chinese/White... I think it's an addiction.

There is scientific evidence that racial mixing may be beneficial to the evolution of the human race. Studies have shown that in controlled environment where subjects are shown photographs of different members of the opposite sex, generally the ones who are ethnically ambiguous are rated the most attractive. Research has also shown that we are attracted to mates that emit pheromones that indicate an immune system that is dissimilar to our own. This instinct may be indicative of a natural guard against inbreeding and a preference for propagating genetic diversity.

Individuals with genetically diverse backgrounds tend to exhibit stronger immune systems, fewer congenital disorders, and fewer genetic defects. This is apparent amongst dogs, as purebreds are often fraught with health problems while mutts are often more robust. There is a phenomenon called heterosis or hybrid vigor, where the offspring of two genetically different individuals exhibit superior traits to either of it's parents, whether in size, robustness, or intelligence. Realistically, the genetic difference between ethnicities amongst humans is too minor for this to occur, but it's an interesting thing to consider.

Don't feel bad however, if you are of unmixed descent. There are plenty of very very attractive people of unmixed heritage. But I DO feel like it is the personal duty of each and every one of us to ensure the future strength of the human gene pool. Let each one of us, whether we be White, Black, Brown, Yellow, Japorean, Blackapino, or Italexican do our part in making the next generation of humans better looking. Given a few generations of this, there will no longer be color lines, division, or racism. There will no longer be black or white, brown or yellow; we will all simply be Beige.