marriage, personal

Beautiful or Bootyful?

A couple weeks ago a good friend introduced me to a brotha who was looking for a wife. She said we seemed pretty compatible and that he was very interested in meeting me after seeing a couple of my photos. He seemed like a decent guy. My friend said that her husband knew him for a while and that he was reputable. So, we scheduled a sit down and went from there.

We briefly spoke on the phone. He seemed very nice. I was feeling him. We agreed to meet for mediterranean food later in the week.

Later that week, we met up for dinner. I called him on my way to the restaurant and he told me he was getting out of his car. At the same time I was walking towards the restaurant. First impressions are important because they set a precedence for most of us. He had a leather jacket on and some rugged blue jeans. He had a little goatee and his hair was faded. He was cute. Not necessarily my type but attractive nonetheless. Also, he was on the smaller side…

Let me break it down for you.

I am 100% woman. Yes, ya’ll 100% Black woman. I’m thick, curvy, big boned…whatever terminology you desire to use. I’m 5’8 and a size 16 in pants. So naturally, I’m attracted to tall big men.

Now with that being said I do not let size phase me. If a brotha does not fit my physical mold I will still give the potential relationship a chance. It would be absolutely stupid to write someone off for something as meaningless as height.

So anyways, back to my story. We grabbed a table and he pulled out my chair (brotha was doin’ it right!) and ordered our food. Conversation went pretty smooth. He asked about my family. I asked about his. We talked about goals and aspirations. Eye contact was good. Body language was open and not guarded. All the signs that a sit down is going well, right?

He had this sultry look that I was attracted to you. While I was talking he would slightly lean in, fixate his gaze and nod in agreement with whatever I was saying. I felt like he was studying me and listening to every word that rolled off my tongue. He had a soft tone to his speech. His voice was not deep or loud. He sounded gentle and collected.

Finally…a good sit down.

These were the thoughts running through my head…

As I was enjoying my falafel and hummus he leant in and said the following,

“You are so beautiful, smart and fun to be around. But you really need to ……..”

I could not hear him so I looked up from my plate.

“I need to what?” I asked.

“Stop playing. You heard me.” He responded.

“No, I didn’t.” I said as I put my fork down.

“Well, you need to exercise…” He said with a stupid smirk on his face.

Awkward silence…

I felt the blood rushing to my face. I was humiliated. My feelings weren’t hurt as I am 100% woman, weren’t you paying attention earlier? I responded by asking him if he exercised. His response was in the negative. I informed him that I did exercise and recently dropped 20 pounds. I ended that sit down suggesting that he go hit the gym rather than suggesting it to others.

I did not curse him out…

I did not go Housewives of Atlanta on his ass and throw a drink in his face…

I kept my cool and most importantly my dignity.

During my drive home I really thought about the whole incident. It actually pissed me off more than anything. What would give someone the audacity to say some whack mess like that? If I had an issue with a brotha, such as height, I would never mention it to him. I would find another reason to politely end it. Along with that I would NEVER bring it up during a sit down.

Then it lead me to another thought.

I’ve met several brothers who have pretty strict requirements when it comes to a woman’s physical appearance. Everyone has their physical preferences. It’s perfectly normal. After all, you have to like what you see when you roll over in bed. With all that being said one must be willing to bend and as cliche as it might seem people age and things get saggy. It’s just the reality of life. This is why it’s so important that your relationship be based upon love and compassion. If it’s based off of anything else it’s certainly destined to fail.

At times, Muslims tend to think that we are immune to the outside world and its influences. The idea of beauty and attractiveness portrayed in the media affect our communities as well. Based on my experiences many Muslim men have an unrealistic expectation as to what women should look like.

Beauty can come in many different forms. Personality and looks are just a few.

While booty is just…well booty.

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love, personal

The first time

I think I was around seven years old at the time. My family had relocated to Switzerland and I was attending grammar school. Switzerland was small and cramped. The streets were brick and narrow. Every corner had a bakery and the air always smelled like pine. Despite the fact that the country still had neo-nazi tendencies I felt safe for the most part, as safe as a seven year old could feel I guess.

I was attending school and I remember when he first sat next to me. He would follow me everywhere. You see, the Swiss are very holistic in their approach to elementary education. The day would start off with putting my slippers on (yes, we wore slippers to school) and handing Frau (Mrs.) Schafner an apple. She would then carve a silly face into it smile at me and give it back. That was breakfast. The rest of the day would consist of playing, laughing and making small crafts. I was happy.

One thing I remember about him was that he had a head full of almond colored hair. It was curly and framed his face. His skin was pale and he had bright brown eyes. He said I looked like cacao (chocolate in German). This was when I realized I was the only Black girl in the class. Coming to terms with the fact that you are “different” is always an interesting process. Before that I never paid attention to it. He said it very innocently and matter of factly. You know, the way kids typically state things. Almost every time we paired off he would slyly scoot closer to me. We would play together. He’d follow me. We’d fight. He would get on my nerves. Then we would be back to playing the next day.

Basel was a small city so you would run into people you knew all the time. One time I was walking with my mother and I heard someone scream my name. He ran up to me and pulled me to the playground. I liked to be with him. He made me happy.

Later that year, we moved back to the U.S. I never saw him again.

I think about this experience from time to time. The innocence that accompanies childhood is so pure. You love without reason or consequence. You love wholeheartedly. You are too young to realize the pain and hurt that comes along with love.

As adults, what if we loved like this?

Take away all the rational and self reasoning. What if you solely paid attention to how your heart was drawn to others. As children we were drawn to one another. Can one ever question matters of the heart?

No.

I can’t even recall his name but the experience stuck with me.

That was my first time.

The first time I fell in love.

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