At the time of my first interracial date, I attended a historically black college, so naturally I felt like I was in the middle of some “Breaking Bad” social experiment.
I fetishized the experience instead of connecting with the core of the person.
But I took a bite and quickly learned interracial dating involved the same basic ingredients as any other relationship: a new learning curve, some compromise and, well, understanding of differences.
My cousins dabbled in interracial dating enough that I was certain my mother wouldn't (completely) spiral into a Fred Sanford episode.Still, dating outside my race felt like playing hooky for the first time.(Although a dude’s improper chewing habits warrants romantic execution.)Like a Ramen seasoning pack, a man bred in a rich culture, unlike mine, adds an interesting flavor to coupling — and it’s something I learned when I dated my first non-black bae.My initial hesitance to dating outside my race was birthed from both experience and ignorance.
I'm the borderline neurotic girl whose mental list of dating deal-breakers is longer than a Yeezus rant.But dating a guy of a different race isn’t included.