Starter White Boy

Thursday night, PF Changs, it’s a date. A first date, but to me, it’s a double first date. This is the 1st time I’m out with this guy, and this guy is my first white boy. See, I’ve always been curious about white boys, but never acted on it. Being biracial, but brought up by a single black mother, black men have naturally been my preference due to their accessibility. That’s all I was ever around.

But, here I am, 27 years old, finally, with a white boy. But, not the white boy I envisioned. When I imagined my starter white boy, I thought of a young Tom Cruise, Mathew McConaughey, Brad Pitt. Clean cut, well dressed, rich. What sat across from me easily could be described as the spawn of Kid Rock and Eminem. His calves, forearms, and probably entire torso were covered in tattoos. So many that I couldn’t decipher specifically what they were. He wore a t-shirt, cargo short pants, and sketcher sneakers. I wore my usual first date uniform - black leggings, smedium sweater, and knee high patent leather cat woman boots. We clearly looked like the odd couple – not because I was brown and he was tattooed, but because our clothing suggested we accidentally ended up here, together, at the same table. At this point, I realized I need to be more specific with what I ask for.

A week prior, I was on a Baltimore radio station promoting my comedy show. The morning show host began poking fun at me and somehow ended up discussing my preference in men. I joked I had never had a white boy and would love to try one out. “So what do you like in a guy so we can hook this up?” I was asked. Me, being a comedian, immediately went into joke mode. “I like teeth, specifically molars and the two big ones in the front; I like legs, a left and a right one, and a penis, singular – just one. And that’s exactly what I got – teeth, legs, and a penis.

Prior to the date I was extremely nervous. Like any 1st in your life, you want it to be perfect, but I didn’t know what a perfect 1st white boy would be. I didn’t even know what a perfect 1st date should be because I never had one. I thought really hard about awkward situations that might come up – like if he tried to kiss me, what would I do, because I don’t know if white people kiss differently, which I immediately realized was really stupid. But not once did I have my usual 1st date thoughts when dating a black guy, like, I wonder if he’ll like me, I hope he’s not strange, he better pay.

So, here I sat, across from my starter white boy, sharing a plate of calamari and praying he doesn’t double dip. Conversation surprisingly flowed very well with the assistance of a long island. I was pleasantly surprised that he was extremely proficient at using chopsticks. Something about tattoos and chopsticks didn’t mesh in my head.
Half way through dinner, he states “next time we go out, I know a better Chinese spot than this.” “You dare challenge PF Changs,” I snap back! This sparked an extremely heated debate about Chinese cuisine which led to a 2 hour long dinner followed by dessert.

I realized I was having a really good time with my starter white boy, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up because we still had one hump to get over to make this 1st date a positive memory. As if the waitress could read my mind, she walks over and as if in slow motion, stands the black bill protector, slightly ajar in the middle of the table. Horrible memories of cheap dates run through my head, and I immediately pull out my card and put it in the bill protector to avoid the embarrassment and disappointment that usually comes from my assuming the man is supposed to pay. Without hesitation, my tattooed, starter, white boy removes my card, hands it back to me, and inserts his. It is at this moment, I realize, this white boy has met all my black boy 1st date requirements – he’s not strange, he’s a gentleman, and he pays.

Dating a white boy is no longer a conquest and the old cliché “Never judge a book by its cover” was confirmed. Not only am I looking forward to my 2nd date with my starter white boy, but I’m now moving onto Asians.

SACRIFICING

I'm starting to organize my list of wants and goals and in doing so, I realized there's going to be a certain level of sacrifice that has to be made in order to accomplish everything on that list. Comedy is going to require a huge time commitment where I miss out on things most people take for granted - friend's weddings, relaxing Sundays, kicking it with my girls at the club on a Friday night, a normal, non-long distance relationship - and the list goes on. No matter how much we may try to convince ourselves that success and sacrifice don't go hand in hand, the more we find ourselves becoming complacent with our current state of affairs. But, complacency comes with it's own list of sacrifices (i.e., success) - but that's another blog for another day.

This week I was made aware of the sacrifice I will have to make in order to be in a successful, romantic relationship. I won't bore you with the details of our meeting, I'll just skip to the date. He was exactly 10 years, 5 months, and 27 days older than me - a huge deal (my target age range: 27-33, 26 or 34 if you have an AMAZING personality). Conversation at dinner was OK, and I stress the 'O' and the 'K,' yet, I didn't have anything else planned for the evening so I wasn't in a huge rush to get home. We ended up in his hotel room watching TV (don't you just love the lack of transition...just "ended up"...only in my life), sitting on complete opposite sides of a king size bed - not so much as a touch had we exchanged the entire night. He invited me to sleep over, and after assessing the situation I would be putting myself in with this first date turned slumber party, I agreed, borrowed his pjs, changed in the bathroom (such a prude, cause I knew he was going to see me naked eventually...like within the next 30 minutes eventually), came back out, got on my side of the bed, underneath the covers and tried to 'act' relaxed. We both tried to act relaxed. Lights went out, room was pitch black and silent when he finally stated "it's going to be a challenge to stay on my side of the bed," to which I responded "tell me how that works out for you." Skip to the juicy part, we ended up having the most amazing sex I ever had in my ENTIRE life! ENTIRE LIFE!! ENTIRE LIFE!!! That night he confessed he'd never had sex on a first date (of course I remained silent - no need to begin a relationship with a lie - ha!). We both concurred that this was AMAZING.

What seems to be the sacrifice here? While I'm still out here hoping to run into Mr. Ayanna Dookie (male, preferably 6'2" or taller, attractive, 27-33 years of age, college educated, no kids, SINGLE, subscriber to his own hopes, dreams, aspirations and actively working a plan to accomplish these, well-rounded, reads BOOKS - not just magazines and the sports page, and treats me the way I love to be treated), I just met a guy who I can't get out of my mind! Honestly, if this man told me the only way he would continue being intimate with me was if I agreed to be his girlfriend, I would be off the market IMMEDIATELY. It was THAT amazing! The problem here is I really don't believe we could ever be anything serious - he has all the kids he wants, I haven't even started on mine. He has an extremely demanding career that can put him practically anywhere in the world, I have an extremely demanding passion/career that forces me to be strategic with my geographic location (there goes that comedy sacrifice). However, I can not imagine a marriage, or any type of relationship where the sex is not as good as what I just experienced with this gentleman. I don't want to be married with mediocre sex! I honestly don't think it would be possible for me to 100% commit myself to a man who doesn't make me feel the way I felt after the past 2 nights (2 because I went back for 2nds the following night - had to ensure it wasn't a fluke!).

So, the question now becomes, what am I willing to sacrifice in a man/relationship for this amazing sex. My girl Tashya asked me if I had to choose between 1) a man who treated me like making me the happiest girl in the world was his full-time job (and he worked overtime and got great benefits from this job) or 2) a man who I had the most amazing sex with ever - who would I choose. I choose the amazing lover. I cannot imagine living a lifetime never being fully satisfied emotionally and physically (I do believe sex can satisfy you emotionally as well).

I leave this question to you guys now: If you had to choose between 1) a man/woman who treated you like making you the happiest woman/man in the world was his/her full-time job (and he/she worked overtime and got great benefits from this job) or 2) a man/woman who you had the most amazing sex ever with - who would you choose?