Watch Those Potholes While on Your Way to Greener Pastures

The ladies of the sites have written in detail about the general NWNW/BBW theme’s insistence that White doesn’t necessarily equal RIGHT when it comes to finding a viable relationship partner. Although the general assumption can be made that different people will have different outlooks and opinions, which works in everyone’s favor, however, there is also the off chance that the ‘difference’ in background also include a unique version of bias and racism.

What I’m saying is….a man willing and eager to date IR doesn’t mean he thinks you’re his equal.  He could just as easily be a sexist boob and think himself superior due to his gender, but in this case, I’m talking about guys that may still harbor racist sentiments even if he’s willing to pursue a woman of color.

Sometimes examples are the best way to convey this.

Here goes:

The Caribbean law student who was light, bright and very accomplished. We would have looked good on paper, considering my new degree and aspiring none urban open minded lifestyle. We could have fit, but for the fact that he was an obnoxious, non-American Black educated blow hard.

See, to me the worst type of combination is when a person of color decides THEY are different then THEM BLACKS who ‘get locked up doing stupid ‘ish’ when “they could just work.”

I asked a few pointed questions of my date, which was going romantic and fine until he wanted to mind-wrestle me instead of sweep me off my feet. I gave subtle reasons for my opinion until he finally challenged my position on the criminal justice system and men of color (did he NOT notice that he picked me up one evening from Seton Hall Law School’s Center for Social Justice….? Where I volunteered as a legal researcher?)

Not only was he frustrated that I harbored feelings of empathy for THOSE BLACKS, et. al. but also, I believe, in the fact that I chose to stick my heel in the back of his neck during my execution of such point. I can agree to disagree gracefully, I don’t have to win, but dammit, neither do you!! His opinion of people he knew nothing about was narrow, biased, cold hearted and very distorted. Even when I appealed to his sense of logic and instances of corrupt legal practices, he insisted that I didn’t know what I was talking about.

Things went cold during the date, he dropped me off and after two months of hanging out (sex free), he sped away in his sports car. I never heard from him again. And I didn’t mind.

*and the beat goes on*

Over drinks at a Friday’s in Times Square in Manhattan I am pleasantly sipping on fruity delightful-ness and engaged in a conversation with my date, an older White guy from the neighboring town of my hometown.

This is our third date so far and I’ve enjoyed his daily phone calls, a surprise gifts of shoes (he was an executive for Frederick’s of Hollywood) and his carefree attitude. Our dates were always fun, sporadic and very lively. He wasn’t what I would physically go for but he was attentive, generous, and charming.

I was getting into him until this day when a conversation about music. We were exchanging likes, of which I offered things he would know of, classical, 80′s pop, Elvis Costello, John Mellencamp, Brian Adams. He laughed agreeably, then asked if I liked Rap music, but he spat the word out when he said it.

I caught the implied meaning and suggested examples of non-confrontational Hip Hop music, specific lyrical content of note and the genre’s parallel and early origins springing from jazz, blues and poetry.

I didn’t expect for him to snort in laughter at my lunacy. Further conversation revealed that not only was he unaware of the racial tension that his home town is notorious for, he outright insisted that I knew nothing of what I spoke of regarding the town’s reputation (a red faced “impossible!” )  or experienced (being beaten by cops as a teenager…as is the norm for Black unfortunate enough to be found in Bayonne, NJ).

I left the date feeling silly, uncomfortable and strangely distant. I thought we had something in common, but it seemed that we were actually worlds apart. I stopped taking his calls and kept it moving.

*wading on the water*

This former basketball player, and Ivy League agent to professional athletes stood 6’9 and was every bit of larger than life than you can image. Blond hair, green eyes, charming, decisive, and very privy to ‘good things’.

We instantly connected during our first phone call. He made me laugh, I wanted more charm…He was good as far as our chemistry and I couldn’t wait to see him.

He picked me up for several dates, in several luxury vehicles.

We went to places to eat that I’d never heard of, nor could afford if I had. My NJ bumpkin-self was smitten, especially in the way he took pride in showing me off and being affectionate in public. He was a perfect date, a gentleman and I was into him so far.

He dated beautiful women of all nationalities, he said. I decided to let my guard down and just have fun, and I did, until things moved along to the physical aspects of life.

“I love Black women, they’re so passionate!” made it sound like ‘black women’ were a flavor at Baskin Robbins.

“I can’t wait to get you behind closed doors. I can take everything you got.Can I call you my Wild Woman?” Um, no!!

Reference to my ‘phat black girl as*” and lack of ‘regular Black girl big lips’ was duly noted.

*Before you go all Googling my life and try o throw shade on my current lifestyle, I was an executive assistant at a non-profit at the time of this date. There was nothing wild about me but for the weeds growing in the front yard of the house I rented in a respectable and expensive neighborhood* 

Yeah, no…athlete dude was cool, fun and very charming but the treats weren’t worth my feeling like I should come out of the bedroom and swing on a rope before doing my oochi-coochie native dance for Mr. Free Agent. His calls went unanswered too.

This isn’t to say that ALL non ‘your race’ dates are buttplugs, this is to say that SOME of the IR prospects will be buttplugs because although they want to date you, screw you and maybe marry you and give you babies, somewhere, deep in their ego they still don’t see you as an equal.

If I have to barter my racial dignity in order to gain a mate, I’ll be a Duracell having Darcell, but fear not, I got plenty of success stories to share too. I’m just a weirdo that breaks up with every dam man that I come across.

I’ve been swirling since first grade and a boy chasing harlot for about as long. Surely there’s something here for the respectable ladies of BB&W to learn from an enigma such as I.

*peace fingers*

 

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The Man Myth