Picture it!!!

New York, 2008. I am minding my own business...as I am known to do.

My boyfriend invites me to a happy hour at a bar with people from his firm. Of course I said no. As if I am going outside late at night to hang out with lawyer types. I do love a bar and especially an open bar but lawyers in bars is like a pig in a parlor. Or more like a roach in a restaurant- you hate to see them but they are almost always there. All that being said, I can't resist an open bar that's a stones throw away from my apartment. I am not completely retarded. And, let's face it- you can pretty much get me to do anything if it's near my apartment. Fortunately for me, almost everything is near my apartment. It's true.

Anyways...I go to the party with the lawyer types. Not only are they lawyers, but they are pretty much my least favorite types of lawyers. I love my guy, but his firm is filled with burn-outs, wannabes, and weirdos. But whatevs.

These things are usually filled with weird white dudes and a few desperate chicks trying to drink themselves into someone's bed. This night was no exception, except that mid-way through these bougie black chicks roll through what is essentially a dive bar. You can see the disgust in their face. They kind of walk around and get a feel for the place and then get a drink. In that time I was able to correctly guess two things about them: (1) Columbia Law grads (and probably by way of Spellman) and (2) they are drinking champagne. Okay, so I only correctly guessed 1, but I wasn't surprised to find out about two.

Well, as the night would progress I began to feel uncomfortable. And no, it wasn't because I was surrounded by ugly people, but that didn't help my comfort level. It became clear that I had to talk to these girls. They are black, I am black, and if I don't talk to them they will be talking about me. I don't make the rules, I just follow them. I could sense the tension and I was feeling increasingly guilty.

I tried to act normal but then I noticed that they were circling me and eventually...they came in for the kill. They approach my boyfriend whom they do know and he, of course, is absolutely delighted to introduce them to his boyfriend. There was a sigh, a wimper, and an honest to God outloud desperation "nooo." He dangled me in front of them and then snatched me back. And surprisingly, they felt the loss. It was as if I was their last shot at love. I imagine that for most black women the next single black man they meet is always their last chance. Within seconds they were gone.

This shit is funny. If you could have heard the "nooo" you could get a sense of the plight of the black woman. None of this was about me, but about black men in general. Who knows when those poor girls are going to come across another employed black man, let alone a professional one that's not married.

I felt so bad I actually wanted to slap my boyfriend and knock up one of those girls on GP. I mean it's a double fucking wammy. I'm gay and dating a white boy, but Churl, if you think it's difficult to find an employed straight black man, imagine what it's like to find a gay black man that doesn't work at H&M. I was angry at him as if he had committed a wrong against my people. He doesn't know the politics of that whole interaction. He doesn't know what is like! Although, you just wait until we find ourselves in front of the next desperate group of Jewish girls. Mmm hmm.

Sigh. Sorry ladies. It's not personal, it's business. It's your business actually. Ewww. But, they were so cute. I just wanted to put them on my list of single women that I have to find a man for, but that list is long and I haven't met a single straight man let alone single straight black man since like high school.

If it's any consolation to all you black women out there: I would have never married a white woman! That's trill.