The best dating advice I’ve ever gotten was to not come on too strong.
Unlike a tea bag
Helplessly sinking in a mug of torrid water
Oozing out its essence and
Altering its surroundings to become akin to its own sensibilities,
My nature is not at all welcome,
Much less desirable.
At least that is what I understand,
“One day you’ll find someone who tolerates you,” to mean.
“Don’t come on too strong”
In my brown ears,
Hidden beneath my Kanekelon twists,
Means don’t be strong at all.
Everyone already expects me to be ‘strong’,
Which is why most men are wary of me from the get-go.
“Don’t come on too strong,” means that
Any man who distrusts his initial better judgment and decides to approach me,
Is looking for something out of the ordinary.
He wants to find a docile heart underneath these
Ombré high-yellow breasts.
He wants to find room to plant, sow, and reap underneath this
Shining copper five-head.
He wants to find trembling hands at the ends of these two-tone wrists,
Not a black power fist.
He wants to find a tender apathy inside my soft belly,
Not a tenacious intensity.
He doesn’t want to find that respect is a prerequisite
Between my ghostly stretch-marked thighs
Much less than he wants to find hair there.
He doesn’t want to see anything but his own reflection
In my lined mascara eyes,
So I should act like I don’t care.
He doesn’t want to find a weapon of self-defense
Inside my black lipstick mouth.
He wants to tell his friends that I’m not like the other black girls
Who have the audacity to speak out.
He wants the black girl equivalent
To the one he feels he doesn’t stand a chance with.
He wants the black girl antithesis
With the black girl ass and lips.
He’s just another fuckboy looking for a fuck toy,
But letting him know you can’t be fucked with
Won’t help you, so here’s a tip:
Don’t come on too strong, you angry black woman.
That’s the best – and only – dating advice I’ve ever gotten.