They frequently ask “You date white guys“? or “You prefer black men over white?”
Well… see, I love brown skin. The different swirls of brown cocoa brown sugar;mocha; milk chocolate; tootsie roll; midnight chocolate; black coffee( hold the cream) honey or soil after a heavy downpour of rain. I can go on and on.
I like when a brown skin brotha steps into the sun & all his hues of reds and oranges burst forth, making me sheeply look away.
See, when I picture a scene from my future, specifically my marriage- my mature torso has two strong tree branches, or call them his arms- they squeeze me tightly. My hands reach up to his sweet face- reassuring him he is all I’ll ever want. Whenever we kiss, he hits my sweet tooth each time making me crave more.
Then when we have children we’ll have sweet morsels of chocolate chips-chips off the old block! We’ll joke: Keep Calm and have a chocolate baby! or when our child does something crazy-we’ll say ‘Oh Fudge!’ instead of what we really want to say.
He melts in my mouth.
I melt in his faithful hands
When I need a break, I won’t need to open up a kit kat, all I’ll need is him.
He would get me. I would get him. With my man, we could relate to how weird it is when people stare at us while we turn up to some good ol Miranda Lambert ( or maybe he’ll be staring along with them towards me!) or we can have an ever so intense discussion on the crucial importance of putting lotion on your feet and elbows; while giggling at trying to figure out of why some folks assume we can play basketball!
You see how far my imagination went? It can go so much further, but let me save it for mystery sake.
Now, My peach men
They are one of a kind.
The majority of the guys I dated were Caucasian.
I use to only look at them as the only desirable type of men. When I was younger ,I was beyond sure I was going to marry a white guy. I wouldn’t dare look at a “black” man.
Around 13 yrs old, my mom told me matter of factly, I would end up with a black husband- I shouted “Never”! as I gazed starry eyed at Jonathan Taylor Thomas.
They say’ Momma knows best’.
White sugar was always in my cup of tea. Lots of it.
I liked how they appreciated my brown skin. They would scan my face and arms in awe, stating how beautiful it was while itching to touch me.
I enjoyed us being together, but I hated the disapproving stares we would get. I would point it out and he would say I was making it up and just longed for attention. Barely.
It tickled my heart when I looked down and saw our interlocked hands singing Ebony & Ivory. When I picture my marriage with a peach brother, I see us chatting over coffee or riding slow in his truck while he pats his Ford steering wheel to the beats of Wiz Khalifa.
He would be my ivory, refreshing and cleansing me with the Word-rinsing me off with his delicate kisses. I of course would be his favorite magazine to read.
Our children would be sweet morsels of butterscotch. As they lay in our beds,while not giving us much room, they usher in the scent of the love we have for each other
So,would I date a white guy? Do I prefer a black man?