I once had a boy tell me I dressed too African for him. I stood, mildly flabbergasted that an African child whose country almost shared the same border as mine, whose skin sits well in the category I like to call 70 percent Dark Chocolate, whose parents, I'm sure, are blessed with melanin so rich, had the audacity to allow such a statement escape his lips. In the following seconds, amusement spread from my eyes to my lips until it burst forth in bubbling laughter. This boy somehow thought I cared for his opinion on how I looked. How funny. I had mentioned before using the words "don't care", "do I care though?!" and "whatever" to convey my amusement and mild irritation but perhaps he had not fully comprehended how many cares I did not give. To which the correct answer is none. Zero. Zilch. Nada.
You see, this same boy had approached me earlier in the year, telling me he knew me from somewhere. As it turns out, I had attended the same secondary school as he except, there was a two year gap between us. As you would imagine, I had nothing to do with his year group, only interacting with mine and sometimes with the year directly above which meant stopping to respond to questions about my brother or physical features.
Our first conversation centered around reminding me of classmates I had removed from forefront memory five years earlier and what he hoped were words of impressive wooing whilst informing me that he lived alone and I was very welcome at any time, most especially that moment. What did he think, that I'd immediately rip every item of clothing from my frame and scream "My body is yours! Please me, O highly experienced sexual being!"? I politely declined over and over, letting him know in that moment that I would never encounter him in that situation and them proceeded to leave him, praying that I'd never bump into him again. Deep down, however, I knew we'd meet again.
Our second meeting was more spontaneous, more interesting and more endearing. As suspected, our paths crossed and since I had been in the house all day, escape from boredom influenced my decision and I went on an unplanned walk with him. To keep details to a minimum, the night was peppered with "these bitches this", "these niggas that", "my dick this" and most annoyingly "your ass is so fat... mmm!", "you're thick, you know. I like my women thick" and "you should let me fuck you. you can't handle this dick". If I had a pound for everytime I rolled my eyes and a piña colada for how hard I rolled them, I'd be a drunk girl with enough money for a taxi home.