I wish you guys had been with me last night. I could have used the consolation. My heart was CRUSHED.
My cousin and I went to Lotus. I am not really a fan of what the party has become these days. It leans too far into the Hollyhood vibe for my taste. But if you can block out the "Rapper nut sack holders" and the "Video chick baby oil applicators," it is still a solid place to hang on a Wednesday night.
The moment I walked in, I saw her. She had this short natural hair that framed her face like sunlight. Her beauty was the kind that silences a room. Face radiant. Body effortlessly elegant. Her dress and heels were not some off-the-sale-rack Forever 21 deal. No. This woman had presence. She had taste. And when she smiled at me, it felt sincere. Like maybe, just maybe, I had a shot.
I approached her for a dance. She looked me dead in the eye and said, “I really really would, but my boyfriend is about to come through the door.” I could not tell if it was bullshit or not. Maybe it was a soft letdown. Maybe it was the truth. Either way, I respected it. I fell back and kept it moving.
My cousin and I posted up at a friend’s table that overlooked the dance floor. I had my back turned, trying not to dwell. That is when she tapped my shoulder and reminded me of a conversation we had a few days ago. She had mentioned how much “different attention” she gets from men since going natural. She leaned in and said, “You see how white guys really go hard for those natural girls more than brothers?”
I turned to see what she was pointing at. There she was. My natural queen. In the arms of a white man. And not just standing close. I am talking about that intimate greeting kiss. The kind that makes it very clear that this is not just casual. It was him. The boyfriend. So no, she was not lying. She was just unavailable. But damn. DAMN. Why did the baddest chick in the entire spot have to be with the white dude?
That shit HURT.
At one point, we were all the way across the club, just trying to enjoy the rest of the night. And what happens? They come right in front of us. Dancing. Laughing. Canoodling. Like they had a spotlight and a front-row seat to my disappointment. It felt like they could see straight into my head as it screamed, "I HATE THIS SHIT!!!"
My cousin told me to let it go. Told me to get over it. But I couldn’t. I still can’t. It is the next morning, and I am sitting with this ache in my chest that I do not fully understand. It is not just about being rejected. It is something deeper.
I WANT MY SISTERS BACK.
WE GOT TO FIGHT, FOR OUR RIGHT , TO... !!!
... OUR BLACK WOMAN!!!
Think I just wrote the first draft for my next topic blog. LOL
GVG
~we're the warriors they write epics about~
When they're right they're right. If not your friends and family who else is there to call you out on your BS?!?!
Sir "CMG" says:
"You’re dating a biracial chick and blogged on the woes of miscegenation"
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