Chocolate Bunny Fetish?

A middle-aged Mexican man gave me his number last week. He previously gave me his number several years ago but I never called. Honestly, before I met Soothed, I never considered dating outside my race. I figured that we wouldn’t have anything in common. So when The One Who Gave His Number Twice came into my life a second time around, I thought it was a sign from the universe. Even though I didn’t get that “I’m going to rock his world someday” feeling (Ladies, you know what I’m talking about), I thought I should give him a call anyway.

 I called a few days later and the conversation seemed to be going well. But later in the conversation, he kept making these comments about Black women and how he loved everything about them. The comments started off as complimentary (which I thoroughly enjoyed by the way) but somehow morphed into being clichéd and awkward. He made the “The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice,’ and “Once you go Black, you never go back,” comments. It just seemed like he said things he thought I wanted to hear simple because I was Black. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he burst into song with “Baby Got Back”. I wondered if I was being a little hard on him and decided to converse with him further to get a better feel for him.

We talked over the next few days and the dialogue progressively became more graphic. He made comments about my body. It was something that I was used to but it was the way he expressed his attraction that bordered perversion. He said dirty things in Spanish and wanted me to translate them. Sí. Yo hablo español. He also talked about how he loved Black porn and wanted to know if I would accompany him to an adult bookstore. I politely declined. Then he asked me if I wanted to know what he did shortly after he gave me his number. I thought he was going to say something like, “I prayed that you would call,” or something to the effect. Tell me why this dude said, “I bought this magazine called Black Tail and I jacked off to it. One of the girls kind of looked like you.” Yes, he went there y’all. I was literally speechless. I made up an excuse to get off the phone. This dude apparently has a chocolate bunny fetish!

I wanted to tell him not to contact me again but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Because if I didn’t hurt his feelings, he couldn’t be mad at me. Yeah, I have a people pleaser complex. It’s something that I need to work on. I hung out with Soothed last night (hubba hubba) and asked for his input on how to gently let him down. He told me that I should tell him that the chemistry isn’t there. He also said that I don’t have power over his feelings—only mine. And that leading him on or avoiding his calls could make the situation worse and doesn’t truly solve anything. He was right. I engage in certain behaviors in order to avoid conflict when all I could do is be fucking honest. Problem solved! Sounds simple enough, right?

I was too hesitant to call but sent a text message instead. Yes, it’s somewhat childish and impersonal but hey, I’m new to this people. Baby steps y’all! I sent him the following text: “I’ve been thinking about it & I feel like the chemistry isn’t there for me. But I don’t mind being friends. I don’t see us becoming romantic or sexual. Sorry.” Why did I say “Sorry”? Ugh! There I go trying to soften the blow so he wouldn’t be mad at me. He replied 30 minutes later and said, “OK! I WAS BEING REAL AND TRUTHFUL WITH YOU. OH WELL.CALL ME!” Yes, he was being truthful. He told me his intentions through our dialogue. Perhaps, I should have spoken up sooner instead of soaking up his perversion like a sponge. He was on the hunt for his Sexual Chocolate. Sorry buddy, this chocolate won’t be melting in your mouth nor your hands. LOL!  I doubt I’ll be calling again. And I’m pretty sure he won’t call either.


Anti-Social or Passively Rude?


I can be very socially uncomfortable at times. But if I knew you well enough, I am more open…perhaps too open. When I am out and about, there are certain men who stare at me. Ok, let me rephrase that, they stare at my boobs. I used to be so proud of them when I was younger but I can’t stand when a man does that now. It’s not like I wear low cut blouses or dresses (for the most part).

It’s always the drunk, creepy, and/or perverted types. Then I began to make inferences about them. And those inferences have my guard up thus making me anti-social. And when they try to talk to me, I blatantly ignore them but I do it in an “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were talking to me” kind of way. I usually get away with it at times but every so often, I have been cursed out in mumbles by a perverted drunkard.

Although I do want to be with someone and have a long-term and loving relationship, I am scared. I have been hurt so many times and I’ve hurt others. And I can almost always see how shit will end: he will cheat, he has a wife, I will cheat, we will drift apart, he will creep me out, he will think I’m a psychotic bitch, or I make something of our situation that it isn’t. I would love to run into men who are worth talking to, even though I’m more of a social caterpillar than butterfly. I know that all the men can’t be married, unavailable,  jerks, liars, controlling, religious fanatics, creepy, perverted, asexual, incarcerated, etc.