The Day I Realized I May Be Destined For The Hwhite Man

I probably should’ve noticed in kindergarten that the white boys always talked my ear off at recess.

I was too busy being self-absorbed to take offense that I was at the bottom of the “cutest girl in school” list for every 5th grade boy at my Afrocentric-centered middle school.

I for sure should’ve caught on in my senior year of high school when not one, but three people decided to sign my yearbook with a passage wishing me well with whatever white man I wound up marrying. Please note, at that point, the only white guy I ever looked at was like JTT.

what a f’n dreamboat amirite?

I am a complete f’ing idiot for not noticing it took until second semester junior year at a HBCU in one of the blackest cities on planet earth to get a guy to admit to liking me and asking me out.

I must’ve been too preoccupied with (soberly) partying my life away to clock into the fact that in my EIGHT years of living in New York City, I’d never been asked for my number or gone out on a date. I never even got a drink paid for!

So as my ninth anniversary loomed in the distance of living here, I gave myself TEN months to get chose by a brotha or be forced to feed my (white) fans. (vags have needs and making out is pertinent to life, ya’feelme?)

We are just over a month away from the deadline, so I thought it would be fun to share all of my crazy dating (or lack there of) stories.

Now, let’s get a few things straight,

this is not a pity party

My self-esteem is in no way attached to some guy thinking I’m hot. So please spare me with any “you so bad though girl!” or “you’ll find your king.” messages. I hate inspirational things almost as much as I hate racism, so quell the need to do anything besides laugh your faces off and sending your cute friends to my DMs.

Follow me on the path to #HwhiteManSummer16!

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