I love dating in the dark
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.
I'd once asked Sandra why that was, and she said it was because there was little vegetation to store the warmth of the sun. All I would have to do is walk in that direction, and sooner or later, I would end up in the Golden Gate Park. Even I should be able to manage walking in a straight line. And the things I didn't know about him served only to support that fact.
Two college degrees ago, I approached all club nights with a very specific understanding: The guys were most likely going to go for my light-skinned friend all night.
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.
Cameras catch all the action using night-vision technology.
God forbid he be attracted to a woman with no second language, nappy hair, and dark skin who was born in North Carolina to a country family of nurses and gardeners and cooks and handymen and sharecroppers.
So dear guys on dark dance floors approaching dark women with this BS: Black is beautiful. Too $hort is playing, and you're in my twerking space.
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