I don’t know about you, but I can’t help but feel weirded out when a random female makes a pass at me or gives me that “I wanna tear your clothes off with my teeth look”. Seriously. I freeze up and given the chance I’d stick my head in the dirt like an ostrich. It’s just fucking weird and too much to handle for me. And I have no idea why.

Earlier today I went to buy lunch and I was kinda “eye-raped” by a chola.

What’s a chola, you ask?

THIS is a chola.

For those who are too lazy to click the link, here’s the copypasta:

chola

hardcore latina gangbangers. They usually have thin, arched, angry looking tattooed-on or penciled-on eyebrows, brown or dark red lip liner, ‘Monroe’, eyebrow and nose piercings, tats, Converse or Nikes, flannel shirts, lots of gold jewelry (with their name and crosses), crunchy gelled or moussed hair either down or gelled in a high perfect ponytail either straight back or gelled in a design, and they go out with cholos.

A lot of regular mexican or puerto rican girls do the look but aren’t cholas. A true chola is down for her barrio and is in a gang, and is as ruthless as a male gangbanger if not more. It is much more common to just look like a chola, and not act like a chola.

The chola style is common in southern California like east LA, San Diego, OC, and also NYC. In Miami they are called ‘chongas’.

I thought cholas/chongas would only appear in the continental U.S., but look around you. Go to a mall or a club or a concert. Look out your window. How many women do you see that fit the definition above?

Exactly. They’re spreading. Not only that, but celebrities are also being influenced by their style, as evidenced by:

Ms. Aguilera, near the end of her “Drrrrrty” period, and…

Ms. Stefani, during her “Hollaback girl” days.

I would have loved seeing this look spread itself like herpes upon the rest of Hollywood’s cursed brethren. It would have made red carpet events actually interesting to watch.

Anyway back to my close encounter. I was paying for my lunch. I put my card in my wallet and look up at her quickly, I catch her giving me this weird, eyes-half-closed-pouty-lips stare with one eyebrow raised, which she holds for a while until another customer comes. She kept working as if nothing happened while I was like OMGWTF IS SHE FOR REAL and scooted aside staring at the floor.
I don’t know if I got nervous because it was a girl or because she was a full blown chola making googly eyes at me, but then the guy after me actually had the cojones to ask her about her most notorious trademark, the tattooed eyebrows.

“How come your eyebrows are so dark and straight-looking?”
“That’s cause they’s tattoos”
“What?! Really? Wow. Are they permanent or something?”
“Yeap.”
“So what happens if like, it goes out of style or you get bored with them and you wanna go back to normal eyebrows?”
“Ah caint, cuz they be like tattooed in ma’ face ya’ all, they be there fo’ life an’ shit”
“WOW. So there’s no going back even if they’re considered ridiculous in the future”
“That’s what ah said. that’s FO’ LIFE, ya’ all.”

Well, I’m sorry to say they’re considered ridiculous RIGHT NOW. And you’ll keep that penciled-in, permanently surprised/angry look FO’ LIFE, too.

After that interesting exchange, I wondered WHAT THE FUCK DRIVES WOMEN TO DO SUCH A GARISH FORM OF BRANDING ON THEIR FACES? Are sharpies more affordable than tweezers or wax?

To me, tattooed eyebrows on women are the female equivalent of this:

I guess Mr. Tyson is way ahead of us in terms of what’s hot in male makeup tecniques.

Whoops, there I go again straying from the original topic. What’s eating me is not the attack of the chola, but the fact that if a woman hits on me, I get all kinds of embarrassed, yet if a man does it, I just take it as a compliment, or laugh it off or ignore him altogether, but I don’t behave like a fucking fifteen year old virgin. I wonder. If I had been straight, would I have behaved the same when a woman showed interest in me? ‘Cause fuck, they sure are complex, intimidating, fierce creatures. They’re like fuckin’ velociraptors.

With a vagina.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had so little interaction with members of the opposite sex that the fact that I know next to nothing about them (aside from what they tell me) instills fear and uneasiness in me. At least when they get all slutty with me. The rest of the time, they’re a blast.

Case in point: One of my coworkers is aware of this fact, and whenever she’s sitting and wants to see me hiss like a pissed off wildcat, she spreads her legs wide open while she speaks to me, flashing her crotch like a total slut. Luckily she wears pants most of the time and spares me an aneurysm. It’s a situation most men in this place would kill their firstborn to behold. Instead it’s all just wasted on me. Couple that with the fact that I’ve never seen one up close, and we have a recipe for disaster. Of course, she does that since I’m harmless. If I gave her the same look that chola at the food court gave me, she’d “shut down those gates” and get all flustered herself.

In the past I’ve had about two advances from “generous” ladies offering to let me “have a taste” and thinking they can make me “switch”. I always turn them down. They’re always like: “How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?”

Because I just don’t fucking feel like it, bitch. Would you eat a pile of shit just because it’s something you’ve never tried before in your life?

[damage control] I am in no way comparing having sex with a woman with eating shit as I have never done either. Do not put shit words in my mouth. Or letters in my paragraph. Or… Aaaaah, you get the idea [/damage control]

There’s no way to explain it. When you have an attraction, your whole body reacts accordingly. So far my body has yet to give me a signal when a “generous lady” wants to get all up in this. I think it’s not only slightly disrespectful and invasive, but that’s like asking a straight man to fuck another dude just to see if he likes it, or asking a straight woman to lick pussy. Or asking 2girls not to use 1cup. It’s just highly unlikely. Whenever I decide to do that, it will be MY choice. And that choice will probably be affected by lots of alcohol and/or drugs.

So no, my dear chola, I don’t wanna get all up in that.

Oh, and before I forget:

Word to yo’ motha, puta!

Posted in Gay, Reveries, Sex, WTF, Work |

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