After my dating disaster with Shark Week and still no word from “Joe,” I took the week to regroup and focus on work. I had a lot going on and with so many new dating apps to choose from, I realized how easy it can be to get trapped into hours of browsing, flirting and ultimately sexting with local men. I welcomed the break, but by the week’s end I was getting antsy (code: horny) and I started striking up conversation with the men who’d been awaiting responses.
Bojangles was a slender black man who had been messaging me consistently for the past couple of weeks on Grindr. His photos definitely didn’t get my blood pumping quite like some of the others, but I’ve never dated a black guy and his persistence charmed me. Race a non-issue for me, I was intrigued to find out what all the fuss was about. But if the rumors about what they’re packing down below are true, I certainly wasn’t going to be prepared for that kind of encounter; at least not yet. I figured I should probably stock up on lube before our rendezvous anyways, but just for his elbows.
We met for dinner in Nashville’s hip Gulch neighborhood on Friday night. He was shy and quiet when he arrived and he didn’t quite fit the “gangsta” fantasy I had imagined in my head. He spoke with a lisp and dressed like he was modeling J.Crew’s Spring line. A little disappointed in my Oreo Thug (white on the inside, black on the out), I rushed through dinner hoping to make it home in time to throw on my sweats and catch up on some DVR. I picked up the check to avoid delaying the end of the date, but my plan backfired. He insisted he buy me one more drink at the bar down the street to thank me for dinner.
When we settled at the bar next door, I began to learn a little more about the dark knight. Mostly that the majority of what he told me during our early online chats wasn’t exactly the truth. For example, he went on and on about how he never watched TV, which was actually kind of a turn off, but I was now learning that he was well versed in all cities of Housewives and could recite almost every line from any of his many favorite shows. Trying to ignore the revealed dishonesty, I continued to dig a little deeper. We discovered we shared a mutual friend, which is not unusual in Nashville’s small community, who I hadn’t yet let in on my new lifestyle choice. As I sipped the last of my margarita and we made our way to the door he said, “let’s take a photo together.”
Surprised by the request, I uncomfortably posed for the photo before giving him a hug and saying goodnight. On my way home, I got a call from my aforementioned friend. “Uh oh,” I thought. I answered.
“You went on a date with Bojangles?,” she exclaimed.
“I suppose I did,” nervously trying to find the best way to explain why I hadn’t told her of my new sexual orientation.
“He just sent me your photo and sounds like he’s super into you,” she said, almost ignoring the fact that it was a photo of her “straight” friend on a date with a man.
I explained the date in the detail and came out to her over the next hour in a revealing and comforting conversation. I think she loved the idea of her two mutual friends dating and she pushed me to ask Bojangles out again.
“I’ll give him another chance,” I begrudgingly agreed.
As we hung up, my date text me an emoticon kissing a heart. “Next time, I want one of these,” the text read.
“You got it!,” I replied, trying to convince myself I’d come around.
Not sure if I actually wanted to see Bojangles again, I got in bed and started up a few of my many apps looking for my next conquest. I struck up conversation with a cute gymnast on Ok! Cupid. We chatted for a bit and before I shut off the phone for the night, I made plans to see him the next day.
I guess what they say about dating black guys doesn’t apply to me because once I went black, I went right back.