So Nervous

I sorta went out with a white man today.

Serious business for a chick who had so many issues with race.

The Photographer texted me around 10:30 asking me if he could take me out to lunch. Whoa. I met him on my first day at my school and we chatted a bit then he called me up and asked for my phone number.

We hadn’t really had a real conversation because he’s out of town for work a lot. He usually just texts me saying Hi and letting me know he’s thinking of me. Nothing deep.

After I received his text I called him back and he asked if he could pick me up around 12:30.

“Ok. I don’t have plans,” I respond.
“Great then!” He says with an accent. I can’t tell if it’s English or British or what. “I’ll see you soon. Ta, ta!”

It’s cold out in Miami and I can see my two “headlights” shining through my pink sweater. I close my jacket to hide my exposure. It’s also raining and I sigh with relief because I decided to wear my tan boots today instead of my usual open toed sandals.

I’m standing outside the basketball courts and wondering what this is gonna be like. I’m nervous and I’m curious and I remind myself that he’s just a man like everyone else.

For history’s sake, I HAVE been on a date with a white man before. This guy was my age though and I met him through my old church. We had a great time, my friends loved him and we’re still friends to this day. But I have some insecurities when it comes to white men and romance that dates back to my college days.

While I was going through my whole stupid, white-people-hate-me-and-are-out-to-get-me phase, I used to see a lot of bi-racial couples that were 100% black male and female. One day I was riding the bus and I looked to my left and saw a cute white guy sitting there. The reporter in me wanted to know so I intorduced myself and asked him, “Why do you think there are so many black men with white women and very few white men with black women?”

He looked at me and laughed. Then he explained, “It’s about social acceptance. We’re conditioned to think the epitome of beauty is NOT the black woman. Look at their hair. It’s all curly and rough. But not yours ofcourse. ( I was wearing a long weave at the time) And look at their dark skin. It gets all ashy and that’s not pretty. But not you, your skin looks great. And ofcourse their body type is too curvy. We’re taught from magazines and television that tehir type is just not attractive. So I don’t think most white men look at Black girls in that way.”

Mmm, hmmm.

I knew they thought we were ugly.

So I would see white guys that I thought were cute, but I knew that I was invisble to them. They never tried to talk to me or flirt with me so I figured the guy was right.

I carried this attitude for a long time and I must admit, I still don’t believe it has changed much.

So there I was, waiting for this older white man to come pick me up. I’m tapping my toe in the puddles of water and humming, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. Comin for to carry me hooommme…”

His truck pulls up and I hop inside and release my umbrella. He’s looking at me expectantly and smiling. Uh, am I supposed to hug him or something?

I raise my eyebrow and look away.

He pulls off and we’re driving down back streets and chatting. He’s a lot more attractive than I remember. He has a nice build and wild hair. “This is just practice for networking.” I tell myself. “If you can talk to him, you can talk to anyone.”

He tells me about his sons, who are 16 and 20. His ex-wife, who divorced him 2 years ago and his love for his work. His work has him traveling most of the year and he spends more time overseas than he does in this country. He used to own a home on the water but his wife got that that in the divorce, now he lives in a high rise on the beach.

I’m more relaxed than I thought when I realized that we’re driving in circles.

He begins to look nervous.

“Uh, I’m looking for this place. It’s quiet and nice. I just don’t know… I don’t remember where it is.” He’s not from this part of town, he lives on Miami Beach.

“That’s okay. If you can’t find it I’ll still have time to go back to school and have lunch there. It’s no big deal.”

He looks defeated.

“I’m sorry Ms. Tee. This is not how I usually work.”

“It’s okay.” I say as I guide him back to my school.

While we’re at a traffic light this black Monte Carlo with dark tints pulls up next to us. The driver rolls down his window and stares at us with a mean look. He’s a black guy, probably mid 20’s.

I raise my eyebrow and look over at The Photographer. He’s as puzzled as I am. I look back at the driver. He rolls his eyes and rolls up his window. A few seconds later he rolls down the window again to stare and grimace at us. Then he shakes his head and rolls the window back up.

The Photographer looks surprised. “Do I have something on my face?” he asks and laughs uncomfortably.

“I don’t think so, ” I respond and we both get quiet.

When we arrive back at my school he asks if he can make it up to me. I tell him I’m fine and that we hadn’t been gone that long.

Before I hop out of his truck he tells me that I am pretty. “Thanks.” I say and grab my umbrella. “Can I have a kiss goodbye?” he asks.

Oh shoot!

“Sure,” I say and allow him to kiss me on my cheek.

“Later,” I throw at him as I slam the door.

Whew… That’s over.

It wasn’t so bad.