Dating. Bleh. It’s not my favorite topic. So when The Black Expat asked me to write something about my dating experiences in the Netherlands, I tried to get out of it. I’d rather write about almost anything else. Well, as long as it’s a less personal topic. And preferably related to something I’m doing less wrong.
My primary defense against this proposed dating piece: I don’t have anything to write about.
My inconsistent participation in the dating game wasn’t even interesting to me – much less the jet-setting readers of The Black Expat.
The compromise: go on three more dates, write about something, and stop being so whiny.
So I picked up the Tinder (again). Had a revelation or a few. And I wrote about one of them.
“On a deeper level, I want to be understood without explanation. On a first date, I don’t want to explain why it’s difficult to trace my ancestry beyond the United States. He could be a stranger, but he needs to understand that Prince is, and will always be the dopest. He should never question why I do or don’t feel comfortable in certain spaces or around certain people. On a shallower level, I’m attracted to brown skin, thick lips and coarse hair…”
Read Dating without Compromise over at The Black Expat.