I liked dating in the dark
In Africa, it seemed that I encountered patches of ignorance that I blamed on colonial mentality and white hero worship; in America, and specifically, amongst black people, it seemed critically important to know exactly where you fell on the colour scale and what it meant. I was repeatedly told by boys, even those darker than me, that I was ‘pretty for a dark-skinned girl’.
It always seemed important to men to let me know, if they were interested in me, that I was the exception to their rule.
Then I thought of what kind of person I would be, if I allowed other people’s insecurities permeate my consciousness.
If I took on the burden of hating myself so other people wouldn’t have to do it for me.
The same goes for men and the ones she likes the most. If he is a little mentally coy – flirts casually, hold backs some information, won’t give her a clear direct answer sometimes, he challenges her mentally to get it out of him.
If he holds back physically but still shows a little interest – it makes her wonder. When done the right way – it can be a lot of fun to her thus driving up her attraction.
mystery is something which is difficult or impossible to understand or explain, therefore a mysterious man is often a guy who is difficult or hard to understand or explain.
Quiet is something a little different and not necessarily an attractive trait unless it’s done right.
I got accustomed to my lighter friends getting more attention than I did.
I laugh when people tell me how dark my children will be because I am married to a dark-skinned man; Instead, I can’t wait to meet them.
I learned that the paper bag rule still exists, but now it is a coward that calls itself preference.
It took me many years to fully grasp why my beauty had to be qualified as an apology for my complexion. A dark kind of pretty; different from the generally and widely accepted pretty. My suspicions were first roused when I wasn’t allowed to be the princess in my fourth grade school play.
As a child, I was affectionately called ‘blackie’ by most of my family, and as I have got older, I have garnered other slogans such as ‘black beauty’ and ‘hot chocolate’. Although I had memorised the script and aced the audition, the mixed-race girl (who didn’t audition), but fit the ‘look’ was awarded the part, even though she sulked and cried everyday during auditions, and had to be placated with biscuits and juice.
Once I realised I was firmly anchored at the bottom of the dating pool, I became accustomed to hearing the word ‘preference’ casually thrown around to justify behaviour that felt a lot like prejudice.