For those who remember my writing at the late heptapod.org, I was a little more emphatic in my beliefs while pushing unpopular notions. I’ve continued writing, intermittently at LiveJournal and now here, and I hope I’ve mellowed out since September 27th, 1999.
There are women in the world who like dating black guys. In fact, they’ll only date black guys. While living in Colorado Springs, I was acquainted with more than a few at my long-time job Usury, Inc. The only people who sling epithets like coalburner, mudshark, et al., at them are racists against miscegenation. The mere thought, in this 21st century, to cast aspersions or to question their tastes is tantamount to painting swastikas over a synogogue while force feeding a bacon sandwich to the rabbi.
Yet it’s okay to call shenanigans on a guy who likes redheads, and will only date redheads.
Why am I bringing this up? I think my business relationship and former friendship with Edna Voegele has made me partial to redheads. Last Saturday I was chatted up by one at a friend’s birthday party. Driving back from the bagel place a few minutes ago, there was a redhead crossing the street and I was fascinated. I notice them more. Kinda kicking myself for not getting Megan’s number on Saturday, and I’m apprehensive asking Kim for Megan’s number just to talk and see if we communicate in any way.
I overthink a lot of shit in my life to the point of inaction. In this case I’m worried what others might think of me. Minor worries about rejection. Okay it’s a whole bunch of worries in a basket which amount to a hill of beans.
I need to think more about this and get my head straight.