I was recently at a premiere party and met this very handsome young black guy. He was 28 years old with serious rasta hair, dark chocolate skin and a burgeoning music career. The meeting was accidental, the conversation brief and business like with the perfunctory exchange of business cards before parting ways. One week later he called for an advisory lunch. I obliged. As the lunch meeting progressed rasta boy shared stories about his youth down south, his dream of making it big in the music business, and his current, less than ideal living arrangement, a couch at a friends studio apartment. He told me about a friend of his who is living with a very high profile fem exec. She’s white he’s black. She makes a load. He’s got a load. As he went on about himself I realized this rasta kid is gaming me. He thinks he’s going to score like his bro. He is going to hook a white sugar coug. Not a chance. But okay, I’m here, it’s an hour out of my life and I’m hungry. Now it’s just a game of tic tac toe. He goes on to tell me about all the less than perfect women he dates. They invite him to lunch and then leave him holding the bill. They aren’t his type, but an older white women is, someone who would actually pay the tab…I’m guessing he’s thinking that would be me. Dead wrong. Lunch completed I get ready to make my escape. That’s when he comes in for the kill. We walk out of the restaurant and he links his arm in mine. He tells me how much he loves the way people stare when we pass by, especially the black women. He confidently tells me “they’re all wondering what you got to nail this hot black ass”. Am I supposed to be flattered by this?
