Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Time I Sort Of Dated A Black Guy

The farthest I’ve come to losing my magnolia was when I dated a guy who was one half Native American. I like to think that I’m mostly an open mind, but I’ve traditionally only had an attraction to members of my own race. I blame my narcissism and maybe even my southern upbringing a little bit. It’s not that I’m opposed to exploring new things — I just love myself excessively and want to screw people that look like me.

Even down to the gingerness. Especially the gingerness.

I have an unnatural lust for white males with light hair. Don’t get me wrong. Most of my exboyfriends are brunettes. But then again, there’s a reason why I’m not dating them anymore. And Geronimo was no different.

I never asked him if he was Navajo, Mohawk, or whatever, but I’m pretty sure Mexican was closer to the truth. I started dating him out of boredom and then developed something of a fondness for him. He had olive skin, jet black hair, and one of the best bodies I’ve ever seen sans clothes. Geronimo was definitely one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever dated. But in the end, I couldn’t get past something.

We had unusually forceful and aggressive sex, but something about it was ambivalent. I avoided eye contact and moved my hand away when he reached for it. In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not a cuddler by any means. I’m actually a pretty awful person to spend the night next to. I hog the covers, snore, talk, kick, and when I’m super drunk — pee on people and furniture. But even for me, spending intimate time with Geronimo was a chore. I hated the lack of interest I took in our sex and I hated sleeping next to him even more. Not to mention the bitch was barely literate and could hardly follow a conversation about Project Runway. To me, the two of us were paper dolls — joined by the hand, but without any drawn on expressions or support to keep us standing.

Although I’d never done it before, I broke up with Geronimo over the phone. Call me an insensitive bastard (because that’s my real name), but I never felt that we had anything genuine. Just because I said that he was my boyfriend didn’t make him mine. Having a significant other for the title was nothing without substance.

It’s a hard reality when you have to learn the lessons of Dating 101 as a graduate student. But in my defense, I'm sure he had his reservations as well.

Reservations. Get it?