The other day, I was on the subway platform playing my usual game, and I caught the eye of a black guy.
I am a white woman dating a black man video dating internet service
They’re in the streets, calling senators and congressmen, attending community board meetings, and holding sign-making parties. But while the political universes of my white friends are cracking open, I’m feeling more inclined than ever to cloister myself.
I’ve gone on a few dates with white guys in the last few months, and the same thing always happens.
Whenever I’m standing on a subway platform, I play this game: I hover near a person I think is cute and try to slowly make my way over to him so we get in the same car. Like most of the girls in my class, I wanted attention from the boys.
When we do, I look his way every so often to see if he’s staring back, to see if we’ve got what my best friend and I call “the affinity,” a mutual acknowledgement that we one another. But while they chased after blondes and brunettes, I was ignored.
In those moments, I’ve wished to be sitting in front of someone who could relate.