The past two weeks I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head blown off. Distracting myself from the desire for romantic intimacy.
I’m leaning into self-love and learning about who I am after 15 years of intertwining my world with another person. My therapist has been key to the beginning of this new chapter in my life. You need to take a break. Discover who you are. Leaving a long-term relationship takes a lot of healing. Stop entertaining jokers. (That last comment stung especially since I was texting a joker right before our session.)
But self-love and discovery doesn’t take away the desire to have romantic intimacy and connection. After two years of doing the work, while still finding myself in and recovering from immature temporary situationships, I’m still searching for a partner.
As I fart around on social media, the algorithm gods (notice the lowercase g) drops me into the frustrations and woes of single Black women trying to find love and intimacy in this narcissistic world.
Straight or gay, Black women are finding themselves out of options in the world of dating. And though I date women as well, I’ve found myself wanting to connect with Black men on a cellular level. But the question remains, do Black men want to connect with me and other single Black women?
I don’t want to turn this into a Black men v. Black women post, but I do want to highlight what I think is a crisis for single Black women.
Only one woman from my tribe is married. One out of six. The other five, single. We have engaging careers. Self sufficient. Absolutely gorgeous. Black women who are willing and ready to love another person. Black women who gave that love to men that abused, wasted, and minimized that love.
Men that connect with our gentle bodies but only want to be “friends” when faced with true connection and commitment. One sided friendships that lack mutual affection, honesty, communication, and emotion. These pillars of friendship erased from the definition.
We’re hearing a narrative that Black women aren’t submissive. Too loud. Too aggressive. Some of us are too ghetto while others have too many degrees. In all of these scenarios, Black women are the cause of our own loneliness. Steeped into misogynoir, patriarchy, and white supremacy these hypotheses slice like wounds in the Black community.
I was talking to my therapist about the desire to have Black love with a Black man. She met my request with the one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve heard about my possible future. Janelle, you have to be okay with the fact that it may not happen for you. She had full faith that I’ll find love again, but with the current dating climate, she wanted me to be realistic and open.
I’m wrapping up Brittney Cooper’s “Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower” and in it she has a chapter entitled “Love in a Hopeless Place” named after Rhi Rhi’s dance hit. The chapter, as in many portions of her book, reflects on the romantic (and lack thereof) relationships between Black men and Black women. She talks about how she’s has “no idea how it feels to be a man’s number one priority.”
Her statement made me well up into tears. I also have the foggiest idea of how that feels. My father. My uncle. Even my 15 year relationship treated me and our future together as a choice and not a priority. I stayed so long because I knew the likelihood of finding love is very minimal as a Black woman. Crumbs were better than being hungry.
I’ve never dated someone that made our time of discovery and intimacy a priority in their life. Even now the once in a blue moon phone calls, sexual innuendos, or emojied filled text are stark reality that I’m just filler in someone’s life. I’m trying to save some of this topic for a book I’m currently writing.
Here I am, 45-years-old and don’t know what it feels like to be loved and cherished by a romantic partner. Never been married and as the years progress, I find myself coming to terms that it may not happen for me.
So what am I doing? Planning the next half of my life and taking romantic love with a Black man out of the equation. If it happens, I will be overjoyed. But I have to prepare myself in case it doesn’t. So I’m going head first into my professional career. Carving out plan B with my tribe.
I’m really engaged to my female best friend. If we don’t find partners within the next few years of our lives, we’re going to marry. Protecting each other as we age to find some solace and companionship.
I will try to entertain the “friendships” proposed to me by Black men, but promise to discontinue them if they are not reciprocated, keep me hanging on to a promise that will never be kept, or if these friendships are merely a ruse to fuck.
I will continue to educate myself, sign up for committees and projects, turn my words into stories, use my Rose and other sex toys when I want a quick sturdy orgasm…all of these things to try to distract me from the lack of romantic intimacy in my life.
Last week someone (Black male) slid in my DMs and started asking me all these questions about my love life, love language, could I be faithful in a long distance relationship. While I was happy a man was actually asking me questions besides “wyd sexy lady”, the questions were very love bombing and quite overwhelming. He wouldn’t give me a word and allow me to ask questions of him.
I called him out on it. Told him while all those questions are very important, we can also learn about each other in basic conversation. I asked if what he did for a living brought him passion, because the field he worked in wasn’t a routine occupation. I also wanted to know if he had engaged with many people of color in his field.
He told me “what does it look like for a grown ass man to answer this question? And why would a woman ask a man about his passions?” He said much more than this, but this was the gist. I was high so I didn’t want to respond. I did respond in my soberness. I told him I no longer wanted to engage in conversation with him and I hope he found what he was looking for.
I got…”FUCK YOU, BITCH!”
I laughed and blocked him on everything. I tucked it away in the mental folder with the rest of the shit Black men have said to me:
“You grind too much.”
“Men like myself just see you as another nigga.”
“You’re ugly. I could never date you.”
“You’re the best non-girlfriend I’ve ever had.”
“You’re too much for me. I mean somebody will want you.”
“You sound white. You ain’t hood enough”
“Why are you single?” – that’s typically from the ones that are boo’d up with white women.
and my favorite…“eww”.
Janelle, you have to be okay with the fact that it may not happen for you.