For Black Women: White Men Hunting – Lesson Number 92

Sometimes the comments are so good, they get their own posts.

In this one, White Men Hunting – Lesson Number 92, you will have the answers to oft-repeated questions, such as:

  • Where are the white men?
  • How do I find one?
  • How do I get one to ask me out?
  • I don’t look like Beyonce or Halle, will they like me?
  • Am I too old at age (fill in the blank)?

Starting with the excellent comment by Anna (middle name). She addresses the age-old issue of: Now, how are white men supposed to know you like them if you never hang around them?

Anna (middle name) says:

If you want to be in the swirl, there is one way to make that happen that is only obvious after someone connects the dots for you. That’s how it happened for me, too.

What is it, you ask?

Just hang out with white guys. Even if none of those guys that you’re hanging with ask you out, other WM will see you with them, figure that you actually must like white guys and be comfortable around them, approach you, and ask you out. It works like a charm.

I know. I am 26, and in the roughly 18 months I’ve been hanging out with these three white guys I know, I’ve been asked out by three different white guys, guys that are friends of my friends. And one of those guys I went out with is now my steady boo.

I’m not Beyonce and I’m not Paula Patton or Eve, either. I am not beautiful, I’m average looking. I’m thin (white guys like that), but other than that, I look like a lot of other black chicks. I’m just average.

I hear BW that want to meet white men say they want to meet white guys, but they can’t, but then, they’re never around any white people, so I don’t know they’re expecting to meet white guys that way. If all you’re around is black people, then all you’re going to meet is more black people, ladies.

Make friends with some white men, even if those guys are not guys you would want to date. Be seen with those white guys by other white guys, some of which you will want to date. This simple formula eluded me for a long time. It’s blindingly obvious once it’s obvious, right?

Put yourself in front of WM that are dating material by socializing with other white men. This really, really works. And, it also helps you get to know white guys a lot better so that when the “dating material” guy shows up, you are ready to communicate (wink) with him. You’ve already had your tutorial on white men, you’re ready to go.

And before any of you grow shy and dismiss your own chances, read the following two comments of encouragement.

The next is by the lovely sistahwuman with a wonderful relationship. (And I still want her man.)

sistahwuman says:

It’s been my experience that you just never know with WM in terms of which one will be open to dating a BW. I have always solved this problem by being open to any quality man, even if I thought the chances of him wanting to date IR were probably low. My current situation is a great example.

As I mentioned before, my boyfriend looks to be just about the whitest guy in the world. Nothing unusual about him, he dresses conservatively, he speaks like he came out of prep school, which he did, and he’s tall and good-looking, but in a low-key sort of way. And if you knew him, you would know that he drinks scotch straight up, smokes cigars, watches football, etc. Typical guy stuff, especially typical white guy stuff, but throw in the fact that he’s a handsome guy and doesn’t lack for offers of female company, also makes a good living at a stodgy old firm, and as a BW, you might say that your chances with such a guy are probably not great. He’s just too white! Am I right?

But, I made sure he knew I was interested in him. You can’t win if you don’t play, right, ladies? And much to my surprise, he responded to that interest immediately.

Here is something else: that calm exterior hides a hot, passionate nature underneath. Wow!

So, you just never know. My advice to all those BW considering an IR is to try not to knock anyone out of contention based on your initial perception of them. Obviously, some men will eliminate themselves immediately by saying or doing something stupid or disrespectful, but that happens across all races. No, I’m talking about the kind of guys that play it close to the vest, the ones that are laying back until they get a signal from you that it’s ok to approach you. All these other sisters know what I’m talking about, I’m sure. Most WM of any kind of substance are going to be cautious in their approach. So, all I’m saying is, your initial impression of his level of his real or potential interest in you may not be accurate – my man says he noticed me immediately and was quite attracted to me, but did nothing to alert me to that until he got the go-ahead from me in conversation.

Just sayin’.

You don’t have to be perfect to find the perfect situation.

Last, but not least, the wise words of magicwoman. You can never be too old. It’s never too late to start looking.

magicwoman says:

First of all, I am 44.

Second, in the interests of keeping it as real as possible here, I want to list all the cons that any honest BW would say I bring to the table in terms of a possible IR relationship:

I am 44.

I am a dark sister.

I am tall, 5′10″.

I wear my hair short and natural.

My financial situation is shaky and always has been.

I have a very large, surly black teenage son who resents any man that is around his mother.

I am smart, but I got an awful education. Sometimes it’s tough for me to participate in certain conversations because I just don’t know enough about the subject.

I have a large, goofy dog that flings himself at everyone he likes even a little bit.

Here are the pros:

I still have a great body, thank god. I am slim, but curvy. I hit the gym hard.

I have a wonderful smile, with dazzling white teeth.

I still have a pretty face.

I’m a nice person and people seem to be able to sense that.

I’m smart, even if not well-educated.

I like the same music most WM my age like – more important than you think.

I’m not a complainer or a whiner – WM love this.

I take of my man in every way possible, from the little things to the big things. What BM just expect, WM are always just surprised to get. My guy says he’s never felt so looked after in his whole life.

I have a big goofy dog that most WM like when the dog is not trying to lick them to death.

All I’m saying here is that whatever pros and cons come with you, as long as it’s an even contest (or maybe one or two more things in the pro column), you can find someone. You’re almost 40? So what!

You don’t think there is a white guy that is 40 years old that would like to meet, and then date, a wonderful, attractive sister? I can assure you, there are plenty.

Look at the drawbacks I’m working with here! Just my age and the fact that I have a large, unhappy-looking black teenage son in the house should be enough to send most white guys running for the hills.

But I found someone, someone I love very much and someone who loves me very much. He’s a huge white guy, a gentle giant that has a heart of gold. And, btw, the kid is starting to come around to him.

He’s told me that he wishes he had met me in his twenties because he’s never been so happy, and I feel the same exact way, but sometimes happiness doesn’t run on the schedule you prefer.

Sorry this has rambled on so long, but I guess my message to PhillyGirl is, whatever list of pluses and minuses you have for yourself, don’t write off your chances of finding love (and marriage, if you want it) with a WM. It can happen.

I couldn’t have said it better. {Virtual hugs for everyone!}

Happy white man hunting, ladies! Make me proud.

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Rant: What I Dislike About Being a Black Woman Sometimes

Oh, I like being a woman who’s also “black”, just fine, it’s people getting on my nerves that ruins it.

You are damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.

People like making up these “what a black woman shouldn’t do” rules, because they are emotional bullies, hypocrites, and misogynists.

If you work for your money, you are a bank. If you are broke, you are persona non grata.

If you express joy and satisfaction in making money, men call you mercenary. If you show little interest in money people become incredulous, because you’re supposed to be stressing over it. I recognize my limitations with fiscal sophistication. I manage as best I can. Sometimes I win. Sometimes I lose. Yet I don’t become smug or condescending because of it.

If you are single, people think your time isn’t worth anything. They assume it can be harnessed for the benefit of the married, or not married, with children, and the selfish. I cannot stand “bring your brats to work” day at the job. The parents think only the singles should work. I take the day off if they plan on being that disruptive.

Your achievements make people envious, upset, and testy. If I’m not taking from you, why worry about my business? Folks like to think that every black woman is at the bottom, and it upsets them if we are doing better than them.

Your setbacks make their day. Oh, they practice schadenfreude like a religion.

Men assume you will play Big Momma to them, because you get up every morning and work. What else am I supposed to do? Sit at home? Will you pay the bills, sir? Should I yearn to earn less than the average man at the same job?

Years ago, I had a guy tell me he likes me, because I work for “good money” and his future ex-girlfriend did not. He said she worked with the expectation of being an at-home mother. So, I’m supposed to be complimented with the assumption that I wouldn’t want to stay home and raise my kids too? WTF? This was coming from a white dude (ex-gf being white) who grew up among wolves … oh, sorry, black guys.

If you do not have children men will say, “I’m sorry.” I’ve never expressed regret that I do not have any. So, why am I supposed to be sorry? Not every woman who has a uterus has to use it. There is more to us than childbearing.

Some men assume that black women are so manly that we can all lift heavy weights, work out strenuously, and perform heavy-duty tasks like men. Back the hell up with that nonsense. I tell ’em straight, “I’m not a man. I’m delicate.” I get cold easily. I cannot lift heavy weights. The only place I’m running is on a treadmill. I don’t do anything to injure myself.

If you own property, a fellow will ask you why you bought it, as if I have the nerve to live in a house without his permission.

If you drive a nice car, jerks will ask you who bought it for you. This can go either way, if I bought it myself, I’m showing off, if a guy bought it for me… Oh well, let’s not go there.

Leave me alone about how I wear my hair. Seriously. Some people are looking to get the crap knocked out of them.

I don’t require anyone’s permission to do anything. I just go ahead and do.

Hey, black guys! If we accidentally make eye contact, that doesn’t mean I’m interested! If you are with a white woman: Leave me alone. What is with you guys? You’ve got your prize, no one cares, especially not me. I cannot tell you the number of times some negro acts up whenever he’s got a white chick by his side. I don’t even notice these fools until they say something, or they stare so long I can feel it.

Regardless of what some fellows think, just because I am a black woman, don’t even try and tell what I can or cannot do. I’ve heard enough from the “you-just-can’t” losers all of my life, and it didn’t, and it doesn’t stop me from having the life I want.

I do, and get, what I want, when I want, and how I want. That’s my motto since Day 1, and it always will be.

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Wing Men Wanted for Jill Scott!

Wanted-for-hire:

  • Tall, not too buff, white and/or Asian man, martial arts expert, needed to play the roles of Wing Men for Jill Scott.
  • Must be fluent in hood speech (you just need to understand the latest slang).
  • You must be able to name all of her songs, and be acquainted with the foods she craves and loves.
  • You must have high tolerance for drama, and be extremely proficient at handling high-strung women.

Your job – should you decide to accept the assignment – is to pretend to be really, really, interested in Ms Scott.

Background Research

She’s in Essence Magazine, on national, and quite likely international, television declaring her desperate, desperate need for a brotha. Not just any LeTrellmonte from the hood, but a professional, well-to-do brotha.

Seems she’s seeing too many with de white wimmen. It makes her wince. It fills her with angst.

She claims to be speaking for a whole host of black wimmen. Millions of us. Everywhere. Everywhere you go, there’s de black wimmen wincing at de brothas with de white wimmen.

Le sigh.

Gentlemen, Here Are Your Roles: Action!

Mr. Wing Man – 1.  The following are instructions for how your assignment will proceed:

You will take Ms Scott out to a popular place where a lot of these PWB (professional working brothas) hang out.

Your job is to make PWB jealous. I know it’s an extremely hard and impossible task, but Ms Scott desperately needs your help. She refuses to get grief counseling.

But we’ve got our ways to help break the dry spell in her love life.

You two will take center table. It’s not enough to take out her chair. You have to hold her hand, look into her eyes, and declare loudly, “I am the luckiest man in the world.”

We will get the waiters to sing a love ballad (her song of course), and you will present her with a large bouquet of roses (must be red).

At this point, you leave for the men’s room.

Remember to eyeball all the PWBs in the room, before you head out.

Mr. Wing Man – 2.  The following are instructions for how your assignment will proceed:

You will come into the room, and take Mr. Wing Man – 1’s  seat.

Stand and shout, “You are so beautiful, Jill.” Look around the room.

Then sit again. Grab her hand and kiss it. Kiss it again.

Put your hand on your heart. Give her a yellow rose. Make your exit.

Like Mr. Wing Man – 1, make sure to eyeball every PWB in the room, before you leave.

Wrap-up for Mr. Wing Man – 1:

Return.

Without bothering to eat, or take in the entertainment, or whatever, grab her hand, and escort her out.

Based on your urgency, people will see a passionate couple looking to leave early.

This time, do not look at the PWBs.

Must be repeated bi-monthly.

Now, these performances wont raise the interest of the PWBs, ’cause if dey like de white wimmen dat’s what dey want. But it may make a few jealous, and it will give Jill Scott all the attention she desperately craves and needs.

Maybe in future she’ll clarify that she’s speaking for herself, instead of cloaking her opinion as a “black wimmen’s issue with interracial dating.” Only for you Jill, only for you.

Some of us black wimmens actually love men of all races, creeds, and colors.

As for who de brothas are with, “Who gives a flying #$&*?” I wish they would only wince when we’re with our non-Black guys, ’cause they are damn well ultra nosy, noisy, and criminally stupid about it.

Now, I have to go burn my copy of Essence Magazine, right after removing Zoe Saldana from the cover, and related contents, for keepsake.

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Health and Exercise

After having fallen off the (exercise) wagon several times, I’ve climbed back onto the horse. (See how good I am with mixing metaphors?)

I don’t read the news, which is hard for this news junkie to do. And yet, I feel way better than I used to. I think during the winter when cabin fever starts there’s nothing to do, but read, eat, and sleep. I have a treadmill and weights, but it’s hard being motivated at home.

I joined a health club. Knowing myself, I have to go early every morning. If I don’t, I’ll never go back. By the way, this place is awesome. It has a separate exercise room for women (for those of us who feel shy). I told the sales guy, “I’m sold”, when he showed me that room. Some days I know I don’t want an audience.

The funniest question(s) I received, “Why did you join? What motivated you to join?”

I said, “Lose weight.” Um, what other reason could there be?

My reasons are bundled together. I know I don’t want diabetes. I want my knees to stay in good condition. I owe it to my heart. I’m vain enough to want to look good (okay that is reason number 1). I want my energy back, and exercise gets you happy-happy-high.

The guy(s) kept prodding me like my doctor sent me over or something. Thankfully, and knock wood, I don’t have any health conditions. My number one goal is to make sure I don’t cause any of the self-inflicted kind.

And what’s my weight loss goal? I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.

Here’s an easy way to guess: based on my slow weight loss methods, it will take me six months to drop it all. And it’s not 60 to 100 lbs plus.

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