I love dating in the dark
The glowing digits on my clock changed incredibly slow. My eyes drifted to the window and the fire escape behind it.Sure, I had fantasized often enough about going somewhere without Cathy or my parents or anyone knowing. But fantasizing about something and actually doing it were two very different things – at least for me. And yet, the fire escape stood there, so tempting... I jumped up from my bed and winced as my foot landed on a squeaking floorboard. No sound suggested that I'd woken my parents or, God forbid, my sister. Before I could think better of it, I slid through the window out onto the fire escape. It really would be smarter to turn back, go back into bed and forget all about this guy whose name started with G. I spent my early childhood years regularly getting called a "grease monkey," "Blacky," and whatever else people could say to try to change your mind about loving your dark skin.At some point you realize that it has nothing to do with that burst of bubbles you feel inside when you step into the mirror and realize, "You know what, this melanin quite poppin'."Maybe not in those words, but you get the point.
Maybe with an exoticism he can explain to his parents and friends.
Anyway, the guys did grow up like I thought they would.
Fast forward to years later and I've traded in southern clubs for casual, quaint Brooklyn bars.
Once they make their way through the crushing bar crowd and back to bring something fruity and usually pink, I check the bottom to make sure they didn't spike my drink or anything. My hair is the kinkiest texture on the kink chart, and often pulled into a puff at the top of my head.
Then they do the lean in and make I've heard it so often that I've gotten the fake-squint and "Huh? I'm really just fishing to see how bold and passively racist they will actually cop to being with their follow-up clarification. " question when they have a racially ambiguous look that could really mean they are of any race. My nose is wide and my accent leads people in New York to skip over asking me I am from the south, and on to plainly ask me which southern state I'm from. Since these things are so dang obvious, I determined that I get the "what are you?