Explaining Myself

I'm not really one to explain myself. I've always kind of done things my own way in my own time, so the idea of having to tell someone why I do what I do irks the shit out of me. And I think that's why Steve bugs me. I said earlier that my fear is that people will think Steve is my "white guy band-aid for Pete" but he isn't. I just can't help but to think that a woman that looks, acts, thinks, and was raised like me is not supposed to have a thing for this country bama. But I do.

I wasn't prepared for the hostility that comes with it. With the looks of disappointment I get from Black men and the looks of anger I seem to get from other people. I don't explain myself. I don't have to. But when my loved ones (particularly Black men) give me a laundry list of how wrong it is for me to date a white man, I want to give a 10 minute summary. I want so badly to shout "IDIDNTLIKEWHITEGUYSBEFOREBUTMYCOWORKERPETEWASAMAZINGANDITOPENEDMYEYESTODATINGALLKINDOFMENISTILLLOVEBLACKMENBUTSTEVEGETSMEANDIDATEDMANYBLACKMENBEFORESTEVEANDISTILLLIKEANDLOVEBLACKMENPLEASEJUSTBEHAPPYFORME!!!"

But I can't. Because that would be explaining. And I don't do that. So I'm just stuck here. Being happy for me. Yikes.