I smiled and apologized for holding him up.“No problem,” he reassured me with a kind nod.
This encounter was nothing unusual; I frequently have similar encounters with strangers at the grocery store.
Still, at times I feel ashamed for dating outside my race.
I am an ally to my people, but I have not connected with them in the deepest way possible — romantic love.
Even when I have expressed romantic interest in black guys, it has always been a futile effort.
That was perhaps the most frustrating aspect of my well-meaning friends’ advice.
I could love my skin and also love Britney Spears and country music.
He was wearing a professional outfit, leather dress shoes and a brown wool houndstooth coat with the collar popped.My experiences date back as early as middle school, when I was infatuated with a black classmate for three years.That all came to a screeching halt when he, fully aware of my crush on him, teased me in front of my friends at my 13th birthday party.If I waited for a black guy who liked me to apparate out of thin air, I would have waited a decade.But even if my options for black men were limitless, I’ve never viewed attraction as black or white.I walked down the cereal aisle in the grocery store, determined to finish my shopping list.As I skimmed my eyes across the rows of boxes, I landed on what I was looking for: a jumbo box of Rice Krispies.“Good choice,” a deep, bellowing voice confirmed.More important than his looks are his kind heart and gentle spirit.I’ve gladly shared my version of black love with him.I was criticized for my preppy wardrobe and my music tastes, and on more than one occasion I was accused of wanting to be white.As time passed, I realized that being black didn’t mean I had to look or act a certain way.