Today, my co-workers called me and told me to meet them at this sushi restaurant they frequent. I thought it was a GREAT idea after the long day of NOTHING that I had accomplished! LOL! As soon as I walked in, I noticed the hot guy sitting at the table with my friends…but my girlfriends dance to their own beat…so I knew if I asked directly, “Who’s the hotness sitting at the table,” I would not receive a straight-forward answer.
So I start telling them about how, on my way over, I was pulled over by a cop whose main objective was heavy flirtation. The cop was cute, smart, and extremely sarcastic-funny…I totally would have given him my number had he asked. Although now, in hindsight, I’m realizing I probably should have given him mine! My girls were laughing at the story, and Mystery Hottie smiled as well. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
Me (to Hottie): Who are you?
Hottie: I’m Damon.
Me (to girls): Did he come with you guys?
Girls: No…we just made him sit with us.
Damon (laughingly): I was hijacked.
Me: Wow! Interesting!
Damon (to me): You know, you are absolutely beautiful! They didn’t tell me that!
I blushed profusely. It has been a long time since a man has told me that…so straightforwardly. I, of course, said “Thank you.” I also assumed that his comment meant that he would possibly ask me for my phone number before departing. We were sitting across from one another, so I asked a few questions…the obligatory Where are you from? How long have you lived here? Family?…blahblahblah…
When he left, he did not ask for my number…and, boy, was I disappointed! I couldn’t figure it out. My girlfriends said that I should have asked to hold his phone, and then typed my number in the phone…She’s says that always works for her. I guess I’m going to have to abandon my old fashioned views about If he’s interested then he will let you know, and become more aggressive…?
Our waiter, who was re-named “James” by one of my girlfriends, engaged us in conversation after Hottie left (the restaurant was slow and my friends were harassing/flirting with him). James is 30, a college graduate, no kids, a girlfriend, and has aspirations of opening his own recording studio. I asked James, “Why do you think Hottie didn’t ask me for my number?”
James’ response:
“In this city, successful black men are in high demand. A man who dresses well, has his own place to live, transportation, job, etc. is highly sought after…and he knows it. Here, men have options. Men don’t have to get the number of a “pretty girl” just because she seems to want him to have it, because here, a pretty girl is a dime a dozen. I noticed his body language toward you, and I could see that he was attracted to you…but you never know what other options he had for the evening.”
“By noon, I may have had three offers from three different women, for sex. I used to date doctors and lawyers because they were attracted to me because of my credentials on paper. I chose the girl I’m with now, over the doctors and lawyers, because she liked me for me…and also because I was READY and WANTED to stop fucking around and be with ONE person. It’s all about where we are in our lives when you women meet us.”
Kismet! A perfect stranger professed what I expected, without even knowing what I have always thought about the state of African-American male/female relationships. I say African-American male/female relationships because I can’t speak for other races/ethnicities. What I can say is, that as an African-American female, finding a mate with the same credentials I bring to the table is extremely difficult. More Black males are incarcerated than in universities. Less Black males finish college than Black females…I teach high school…I know what I’m talking about. And no, I’m not opposed to dating outside my race…it’s just that the opportunity hasn’t presented itself.
So…folks…how is it where you live? Do men have all the options in your city as well?
The Ex Factor 