Don't look Black in Anger

Hello,

Well, as the octogenarian said to the gynaecologist; It's been a while.

So over the last 6 months I've continued on a search for 'The one'. Who would have thought that I would hear from someone I first met albeit online last year and this time we actually met in the flesh.

All was going well on the pre-emptive 'getting to know you' emails that re-kindled things. And so the day arrived where we were to meet. We went out and ate but something struck me as a little wrong, she was subdued, quiet, different.

I had to ask and she did eventually tell me - It's because I'm white. I make no secret that I do not take my women like I take my coffee - I take my coffee milky and tepid, I take my women black, hot and strong.

Now, she knew from the off that I am who I am, a white guy who likes black girls but I was her first, I was her experiment and by all accounts she can't do it. It's not my fault, can't help having a melanin deficiency, can't help being me.

And yet, I remain her a little like her little secret. We don't go out, our clandestine meetings take place behind closed doors, there's no PDA's if we happen to wander out into the street.

She's even said to me 'Why can't you just be black!' so clearly I am doing something right and a nice person and good company etc etc etc, I'm just simply the wrong shade. A bit like when you get Homebase to mix you your own paint.

As the now late Michael Jackson of whom she was a fan said 'It don't matter if you're black or white'.....clearly in some eyes...it does.