Recently, a dear friend—and extreme romantic—called me all excited by a new woman in his life; my ears immediately begin to perk. This is only one in a series of calls that follow two-month intervals. It’s amazing that I still have that mechanical ability to slap my ears tightly against the phone. If I sound harsh, judge not, he falls in love like 4-a.m. drunks fall in ditches. He finds HER every sixty days. I am livid; I spend forever looking for HER and she just drops in his lap, again and again. As I pondered our chase for Ms. Right ad the fairy tale that has eluded us to date, he begins to describe how they met in great detail, with a bit of questioning from me.
1. “Where did you meet her?”
“I met her at my church. She came there with her family. She told me she was visiting from out of town for while.” Hmmm! This skank probably had a fight with a boyfriend or husband and took off for a while. “Oh, Lynn! She is such a lady! I was sitting beside her throughout the service and she knew every hymn.” Hmmm! I bet Satan can recall every one, too.
2. “What does she look like?”
He sighs dreamily, then stammers, “She is a sister.” I hold back a giggle. “Sister to whom?” He howls as he continues, “Stop playing, you sexy thing you!” We have had this discussion ten million times already. He refuses to consider any woman worthy of his attention unless she is of the “sister” persuasion. This man is the first person I have ever known who spends all his time scoping black dating sites and churches. It’s futile to explain how limiting he has become. As his friend, I support and want to beat his muse clicking knuckles. “You of all people should understand the attraction, Lynn,” he counters.
3. “Why should I understand this obsession?”
He drums his fingers loudly against the receiver and takes an overly loud and deep breath. “I’m just saying … you’re black for goodness sake!” One, two, three, four, five … I figure when I get to twenty, killing him by eardrum abuse will be an option. Okay, let’s go through this for the umpteenth time. “First, I am black but I don’t deliberately pick a color and search all over creation for someone in that color scheme to fall in love with. Geez, why do you always make me state the obvious? You won’t even give women of your own race the time of day. You can’t see how limiting that is on the road to love?” I know when I’m losing so we move on to the next thing.
4. “Is she seeing anyone?”
“There are complications,” he almost whispers. “She has a boyfriend who has been stalking her, so she needed to get away.” All I can hear is, “Woman fleeing psycho boyfriend picks color-obsessed freak to rescue her.” Evidently it’s throat-clearing time, he decides to invade my ears with bombardment of his skills in that regard. Let’s see here, the last one got a restraining order against him because the ex-boyfriend felt threatened by his attention to her and had to go upside his head. Then there is the one who blocked him from contacting her on all the major dating sites. Oh, and let’s not forget the one who wanted him to foot her boyfriend’s bond. Oh damn! That was the same one who got the restraining order. I love my friend! I love my friend! I love my friend! A headache would put the icing on this bit of good news right about now.
5. “How did she seem to react to you? Was she giving any signs of being interested?”
He erupts into laughter. “We just seemed to click, Lynn. I can tell she is the one. I’ve finished looking. I told her about my living arrangements and …” Oh, hell no! He didn’t! He didn’t! What man still living with his mother would dare divulge that bit of info, right away? “You told her what?” I screamed into the phone. “I told her about not being able to afford my own place.” If I could only slap him through the line. “You have a lot to learn about sisters, son.” I snapped half angry at myself for allowing his ignorance to continue over the years.
