Monday, March 31, 2008

The Jaded NYer Likes Coffee In Her Coffee

So Friday I was faced with the question: why does it bother you if your daughter dates a white boy? It was a real conundrum and I couldn't come up with an answer.

I mean, I have really good friends that are white, people that I'd trust with my children and my life even (doesn't that remind you of the justification some white people use to prove they aren't racist? "My good friend at work is black!" HA HA HA HA!!). All of my girlfriends but one have/had white boyfriends/husbands, and I've been cool with them. And yes, I, The Jaded NYer, have dated white men in the past. So what has changed?

Well, I did some breathing exercises and cleared my mind (as much as one can with crazy N in the background) and this is what I came up with, straight from the heart, after 4 hours of deliberation. Please note that whatever I write from here on out can and will change at the drop of a dime if the Universe answers my prayers and John Cusack and/or Slash come to their senses and fall madly in love with me. And actually, Slash don't even count in the "exception" category 'cause his momma was black. I'm just sayin...

As a preteen, all of my crushes were white: Jon Bon Jovi, Bret Michaels, Slash, John Cusack, Rob Lowe, Kirk Cameron, Jason Bateman, and that mute kid from the 3rd Nightmare on Elm Street movie who never went on to do anything notable with his acting career. One would think that as an adult I would end up with someone who resembled these dudes, and so did I, but it didn't pan out.

In high school, I suppose I flirted with the idea and even dated a white guy for a short time as a senior, but we all know how that ended up. I found that white dudes- at least the ones I knew- just weren't that into me. Or if they were, they were not bold enough to approach me. Plus, bear in mind that I'm from Bed-Stuy, and before gentrification there were only like 3 white people in my neighborhood. And what is it we learned from Silence of the Lambs? We covet what we see...

In college, the time that seemed ripe with opportunity for interracial dating, I came face to face with a HUGE turn-off when attempting to date outside my race... the questions!

"How do you get your hair to do that?" it just does; I was born this way.

"What is this strange flavor in this chicken?" adobo, fool, DAMN! you ain't never heard of ADOBO?

"How do you say [fill in the blank] in Spanish?" [insert half-assed translation here]

So, as my first order of business as an adult, I suppose I made a conscious decision to only date brothas. Someone who shared my experiences and wouldn't treat me like an anthropological project or a new exotic creature that they can display on the mantle. Now mind you, at my school, black people were few and far between, and the three Dominican dudes on campus were into white girls [and SHORT] so they were a lost cause, but the few brothas on campus... yeah, they gave me much love.

After my divorce, when I dove back into the dating pool, I tried to be open to all kinds of dudes because, well, my marriage sucked ass and I was only looking to have fun, but the white dudes I met up with were mad corny, and not in a cute way. So not only were there questions, but this weird annoying species of white dude started to emerge in NYC: The White Dude Who Swears He's Down-- he listens to old school hip hop, he plays basketball, he likes to quote the movie Friday, and thinks that Lauren London is the shizznit, and says it just like that: "Lauren London is the shizznit!" I can't be a part of that sham (damn you, Eminem!!!).

Add that to the fact that white men rarely if ever have sexy, kissable lips or that "Mandingo" physique that makes this girl melt (and when they do it screams "STEROIDS!"), or the beautiful butter smooth skin in all shades of brown that complements me so well, and there it is- why I can't get with a white dude. At least the ones I've run into.

I need someone who I can really relate to, not just in looks but the whole package. Someone who's mother won't look at me sideways 'cause I'm a little darker than she expected and vice versa. Someone I won't need to translate for at family functions. Someone who won't try to hold my hand back as I try to add hot sauce to the food. Someone who knows how to use a wash cloth and appreciates the importance of lotion (okay, that was ignorant... but funny... admit it!!).

It's a preference like any other; I hate eggplant but I love broccoli. Same thing. (Okay, that totally made sense in my head. In print...I'm not so sure...). I need to be with a dude that gets me and mine without having it explained to him. And it really wouldn't hurt not one little bit if he just happened to look like Javon Walker, Robert Griffith or Boris Kodjoe!

mmmmm.... Boris Kodjoe....

Hermanas- where ya at? Can you feel me on this one...

(But John or Slash, honey-bears, if you're reading this, it doesn't apply to you two, okay? You can ask me all about my hair, and I'll translate ANYTHING for you ANYTIME!! Call me!!)

*smooches...hoping this isn't as offensive as it seems*
and if it is, oh well, what can I say?