Superbowl Over!
I’ve been SO sleepy all day, and I don’t know why because I didn’t do anything terribly stressful yesterday. Friday was exhausting, but Saturday was pretty laid back.
Oh, and to the young hottie that I met on Saturday night, in case you remember the URL for this blog and are reading this . . . thanks for the fun flirtation. I was extremely flattered. If only you were about 10 years older . . .
I saw “Something New” with Chris on Saturday afternoon. It was pretty good. Sanaa Lathan did a great job, and her co-star was a cutie. It sparked a conversation afterward between Chris and I about dating and racial preferences.
Chris, who does a liberal amount of interracial dating, feels that race is unimportant, and that society places too much emphasis on race. He is of the opinion that by limiting ourselves to only dating those of a certain nationality, that we’re limiting the potential for happiness.
I agree with him, but my feelings are irrelevant. I’m an equal opportunity dater, and am attracted to a variety of men, but the issue is that a lot of men of other nationalities aren’t always excited about dating black women. One of my friends pointed out that, on Match.com, when she finds a cute white guy, and looks at his description of his ideal mate, often she’ll notice that, instead of indicating that he’s open to dating women of all nationalities, he will have checked every box except for African American. It’s okay, because everyone has their preferences, and I certainly don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I just find it interesting.
I rarely get “normal” approaches from white boys. I’ve had a lot of strange experiences. If I get hit on by white boys, it’s either 1) the WB who’s FAR too immersed in black culture, and considers himself to be a black man in a white man’s body. No thanks.
OR 2) The guy who has had about 15 cocktails too many and, when he’s able to speak, professes his eternal attraction to black women, even though he, in sobriety, never does anything about it. He gets up the nerve when he’s drunk and then his objective is to get me to come home with him. Again . . .I think I’ll pass.
But then, to be fair, I get some weird approaches by black men too. I guess there’s something about me that brings out the weirdness in people. Whatever it is, I wish I could identify it and turn it off.
Is tomorrow really Monday? That sucks.
