Whenever dating becomes a topic of conversation, a popular question that often arises is, “are you open to dating outside your race?”
The answer to that is YES.
However, I just don’t know if I’m any good at it. I’ve dibble-dabbled in interracial dating in the past, but it didn’t go so well.
First, there was my experience with a White man. Let’s call him Dave. I met Dave while working a part-time job at Apple back when they had multi-colored t-shirts to differentiate the teams. I wore the orange shirt and greeted customers as the concierge. I never knew what half of the tech issues were but I do know that resetting your phone fixes just about anything.
Dave was sweet, easy to talk to and very smart. I had a feeling he was flirting with me but dismissed it because . . . well, I didn’t think I was his type. He was also from the Midwest and gave me true-homie vibes. Turns out, I wasn’t the first black woman he had eyes for. He had dated a black woman before. When he asked me out, I said sure.
First date was at the Cheesecake Factory in Pasadena. We had a really good conversation and I saw a different side of him. I didn’t have any major expectations of where this could go but found that I enjoyed his company, conversation and the newness of the experience. This date was soon followed by more interactions. My full-time job was in the same mall as the Apple store so he would also pop by to say hi or bring me lunch. Sometimes, I would even cook and take him lunch. On Valentine’s Day, he brought me flowers while I was at work and we walked through the mall holding hands on our way to lunch. We were a budding couple.
Things were going pretty smooth and we were getting to know more and more about one another. We had kissed, which was different for me because he didn’t have the full lips that I was used to. But, it was sweet and I was trying to embrace our differences. He even began picking me up for our dates. (It’s a pretty big deal to let a man know where you live.)
Prior to one particular evening out, I had mentioned that I had to get my hair done first. He said okay and asked me what time I would be ready.
He was on time, I was late (shocker) but we had a fun night. On the ride home, he pulled up to a stop light, put his elbow up on the passenger seat and took pieces of my hair in between his fingers and asked, “so what’s this ‘hair done’ thing I’ve heard you mention several times?”
Say what now?
The twenty-something-year-old me was extremely annoyed. I remember pulling my head away to make him drop my hair and I asked, “I went to the salon and got my hair washed and flat ironed.”
“Ok, but why can’t you just do that at home?” he asked. I’m not sure if he caught the attitude in my voice but his confident smile had faded and he was glancing at me while he drove through the light.
“I thought you dated black girls before?” I asked.
“Yeah, my last girlfriend was black.”
“Where was she from?”
“LA.”
“Where in LA?”
“The Valley.”
Of course she was. At the time, I had it in my head that black girls from the valley in LA were a different type of black girl. They were more like Dionne Davenport from Clueless while I considered myself more of a Moesha from Leimert Park.
I didn’t want to be an experiment or discovery. Explaining my hair was like explaining my culture. I figured that if he dated a black woman previously and it was before the natural hair craze, he should know what “getting my hair done” meant.
The night ended with me writing him off and him being clueless (no pun intended).
Second, there was a gentleman who was a mix of Middle-Eastern and South Asian with an English accent. He, too, was from the Apple store (I’m telling you, I was a hit with the techy guys) but he was my manager. When we no longer worked together, he contacted me. He admitted that he was going out on a limb by asking me out because he had a crush on me the entire time we worked together. He figured, “why not? The worst I could do was say no.” He was a shorter guy with thinning hair and no sense of style. He loved to laugh and was very sincere in his approach. I appreciated his boldness and in the essence of trying new things, I said yes.
Our first date was also at the Cheesecake Factory but in a different part of the city (it used to be a thing for me, stop judging). Our conversation was not so easy. We had very different interest and experiences that made it a bit difficult to relate to one another and build a friendship.
He was really nice and sweet but almost too nice and too sweet. I could have said and done anything and I think he would have been okay with it. Case in point: I told him about an upcoming flight and he was willing to pick me up at 5 a.m., drive me to the airport (which was at least a forty-five-minute drive) and then go to work on the opposite side of town afterward. Considering this was LA and you could run into traffic at any time of the day, this was a serious sacrifice. While sweet and something I would truly value today, his eagerness to please at the time made him come across as spineless and was more off-putting than attractive.
I look back and realize that I was immature and looking for a reason to discontinue both relationships. I took some of their best qualities and found fault in them. I ultimately wasn’t ready to date due to not being over a previous relationship, and I definitely wasn’t ready to date anyone other than a black man. I wanted the connection and familiarity that came with dating someone of the same race but didn’t value what I could learn and experience from someone of a different ethnicity.
Black men have been my go-to preference but that experience is not always reciprocated, especially in the Bay Area.
This is not a moment to bash my brothas. Let me be clear. I just find that most Black men who live in San Francisco prefer dating White or Asian women. Cross the Bay Bridge and the Black men are more open to the variety of women but you also see a lot more Black couples. You do run into the occasional man who only dates one race but like women, most men in the dating game are trying to find someone they connect with. If she so happens to be the same hue as you, cool.
No matter the race, when a man doesn’t prefer to date a woman who is like his mother, sister, aunt or grandma – that is a problem. I think it comes from a deeper place of self-hatred, insecurity, and ignorance. If a guy refuses to date women who reflect his own ethnicity, any woman he dates should perceive that as a red flag. There are deep-rooted issues that need to be unpacked and he’s most likely going to do that in your relationship. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
All of us have preferences in who we date based on how they make us feel, but I try not to subscribe to the line of thought that starts with, “I only date . . .”
This wasn’t always the case though.
Let me explain. I have been accused of having an Electra Complex. I disagree with this because I never wanted to compete with my mother for the love and affection of my father. However, I used to prefer men who reminded me of my father. If he was dark-skinned, dressed well, had charisma and an alpha-male presence, I was smitten. I think my Daddy is the bees-knees, so any man who resembled that naturally had my attention. My eyes only looked for Black men.
Unfortunately, none of those relationships worked. I have since learned to be open to dating men who do not look and think like me but have other similarities or interests that produce attraction. I am a lot like my father and prefer not to date someone just like me. I actually treasure a variety of appearance and difference in thought and culture. If this happens to be wrapped in chocolate, great. If not, that’s great too.
When dating in a bigger city, it’s best to keep your options open. You have to keep your options open because you never know who will be the one for you. He may be wrapped in a package different from what you expect.
A true lover of Christ is my number one qualification and he must also be willing to wait until marriage to get these cookies. I understand how that immediately dwindles my dating pool, so being open to other ethnicities is a must. If he loves Jesus, has a touch of soul and is okay with seeing my hair in its Color Purple twists, any color/ethnicity will work for me (tattoos and a beard wouldn’t hurt though).
Whoever he may be, whether tall, short, light, dark, muscular or thick in the middle- he’ll be the right one for me.
