Why Women Date Women

We met at the gym in late August, on a Saturday. He's black; this will become important later. I gave him my number, he called, and we talked for several hours. He described himself as "street"; he owns a boat, likes to travel, and is a water salesman. I told him I had to go because I was meeting friends. He suggested 3 or 4 times that I should blow off my friends and do something with him instead. He mentioned that usually he won't call a girl for 3 weeks. He was surprised that I didn't have caller ID because most of the women he knows have it. I was getting concerned. He called me on Tuesday afternoon (4:30ish) and wanted to know if I wanted to go golfing that night. I didn't return his call. You don't ask a girl on a date last minute. He calls again later in the week and leaves a message. I'm reconsidering the whole thing and I call him to leave a message that I'm really busy for labor day weekend and maybe I'll see him at the gym sometime. Cool brush off, I think. He called me several weeks later (he had been out of town) at 10PM. I was already in bed. To avoid discussion, I tell him to call me later in the week. He does. I don't call back. He calls again to say he doesn't understand if he did something wrong, blah, blah, blah. At this point, I was thinking that I'm just freaking because I haven't dated in a while and the fact that my previous relationships were with people different than him. I still didn't call him back. I didn't know what to say. Last Saturday, I ran into him at the gym. We talked; he's easy to talk to. I told him that I'm uncomfortable dating because I haven't dated in a while and that my last relationship didn't turn out well. For some reason, I felt compelled to go out with him. What if God has sent me this wonderful man and I don't take the chance? On Sunday, we met for drinks, pool, and football. I arrived at 1:00PM and we talked. I confessed to him who I've dated in the past (women). He seemed to be accepting. We talked some more. He kept getting closer. I told him if this is going to work, we need to go slow. He said ok and started talking about how his birthday was coming up and maybe we could travel together to Hawaii or Las Vegas. Slow? Not to me. He asked if he could hold my hand. Mistake #1; I said yes. We talked and drank margaritas. He asked whether he could kiss me. Mistake #2; I said yes. He slipped me tongue! Slow? Not to me. I pushed him away. We talked; heavy intellectual talk. I was mentally tired. He told me I looked innocent, but he bet I had a bad side. We moved on to pool at my request. As we played, he kept coming up to me and holding me. He asked me to kiss him again. I told him this is not what I had in mind for slow. Again, we got into a deep conversation because he kept saying he understands that I want to go slow, but he won't keep his hands off me. Ick! I told him I'm leaving and he asked if this meant I wouldn't call him. I told him I needed to think; a lot happened today. I was hoping I could just escape. No luck. He walked me outside, where we continued to talk. He said he thinks I'm intimidated by him because he's a black man. He told me he's my African King. I barely resisted throwing up. He said, "I'm a black man and you are a black woman, and when shit goes down, we'll be on the same boat with our other brothers and sisters." Who the hell is he talking about? He's not my brother! Why do black folks always think there's some special connection? He said he's bad, but today, he's been nicer to me than he usually is. Someday, he's sure; I'm going to want him to be bad, I'm going to want to be bad with him, real bad. He said that if we are out someday and some other guys start bothering me, I'm going to want him to be bad and protect me. Gosh, doesn't he know me at all? Blah, blah, blah. He said we kissed today with lips with tongues; what am I going to do about that? I said (yes, truly), "Gargle?!" The final needle on the haystack was when he said to me, "I want you to go home and imagine what it's going to be like rubbing up against me ... a black man ... how good it will feel." This he said as he held my hands and brought me close. I pushed away, looked him in the eye, and said, "Don't call me ... EVER!" I guess I wasn't clear enough because he called. What's so hard to understand about, "Don't call me, Ever!"? Wouldn't this make a great story: Why women date women....

— Mary, 34

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