In case you’re wondering why that pig flew past your window or why Hell was reporting unseasonably cold weather, it’s because The Oreo Experience finally went on a real live date with a real live black guy!!
Before Sunday’s outing, I had prepped myself as much as possible. I put in a call to my trainer to schedule a couple of riding lessons, attended the Sound of Music Singalong at the Hollywood Bowl and learned Edelweiss on the guitar.
Oh Captain Von Trapp, I'll be your nanny...or your nurse...or your mommy/..whatever it takes, really.
And then it happened. I drove to Downtown LA where we had planned to meet, stepped out of my car and was inexplicably covered in enough cat hair to make myself a third cat. I do not understand how this happens. My two cats do not go in my car. Why is their hair there?! I dashed down the street, trying to feign gracefulness as I sprinted in heels while lint rolling myself furiously and looking for the address.
We went to a play. Ate some falafel. Both lost a round to each other at darts. He waited patiently while I bought a vintage silk purse. A generally good time was had by all.
And then as I was leaving the vintage store, moar cat hair showed up on me!! How do they do it??
Of course, there were some happily mitigating factors. We had met the previous week at a reading of a musical about a behavioral psychologist. We were both the only of colors there. He’s a trained Shakespearean actor (overlooking the fact that he played the titular role in Othello). He went to Sarah Lawrence.
The topic came up of how this was me popping my date with a black guy cherry. Instead of answering, I shoved an entire falafel ball into my mouth and the subject was changed to the fact that I nearly choked to death.
Whether my larynx is being crushed by food or not, the question always comes up. “Really?? You’ve never dated a black guy??” And I usually say something like: “Well, I’ve never dated another
- Flute player
- Equestrian
- Only child
- Woman
- Blogger
- Anglican
- Graduate of the University of Texas
either, but no one seems to take issue with that.”
Then the person is usually too bothered by the fact that I say “bullet point” before each of those entries to finish the conversation and we complete the elevator ride in silence.
But could that be the key? The missing link? That I simply haven’t picked the right common adjective to shack up with?
Because on the other hand, I’ve dated many
- Right-handed people
- Fans of Arrested Development
- People I work with
- Booze Enthusiasts (…Boozesiasts…drunks??)
And, well, here we are, still dating. So something’s gone, if not horribly wrong, then at least not horribly right. Hmmm, excuse me while I dash off to make more lists of things that I am so that–JESUS! This freaking cat hair!!! Seriously! WTF?! The cats do not come to my desk at work!! Why is their hair all over everything I touch. I’m like King Midas. Except with a touch not nearly as useful.
**
What do you think? Do relationships work better when both people share a skin color/religion/last name?
Do you date people very much like you or very different?
What is up with the cat hairs??!?!??!
Let us know in the comments!
And for more dating stuffs, check out these posts:
My other answer to why I don’t date black guys. (Video)
Sometimes dates don’t work out, but you learn something anyway.
Online dating is whack if you’re black…the kids say “whack” right? Or is it “wack”? “Waque”??
***
The Oreo Experience 
I dunno about race, religion or last name (although I could imagine difference of religions possibly making things awkward) adding or subtracting from a relationship but a commonality or two (or three but who’s counting?) definitely helps.
Then again, statistically speaking, with all the people in the world there are bound to be relationships that go horribly wrong between people would seem so very compatible.
I guess it all comes down to love. If it’s there and strong enough then nothing else matters.
Seriously,it’s the same with dog hair. I have a theory that your pets love to hang out in your washer and/or dryer when you’re not at home, thus leaving more than enough hair to cover all your clothes (and then some). I think they secretly giggle when they think of us freaking out over their hair.
And as far as dating different people, uhm, I’m an academic pacifist, a spoiled little princess, and a lover of all things show tunes…and you know who I married (and for all those of you who don’t: think enlisted military, single working mom childhood, and a hater of all things showtunes). We go together very well – I stopped wearing my “war sucks” pins, he took me to Wicked AND Avenue Q, he is working on his master’s right now, and I learned how to shoot a gun. Well. Sort of.
I’ve had it said that even the Black girls I date are white.