Sorry for the break my precious but I’ve been working. I say working I mean I’ve been at an event for 4 days. I can’t say as that I enjoyed it that much. Mostly because it was so air conditioned that I had to dress for winter even though it was lovely outside. I am a child of the sun and am not that worried about falling asleep after lunch that wasn’t provided. So let’s be clear. I was networking in a cold central London hotel. I met a few friends old and new but I’ve missed you and I’m back!
Anyhoo a friend has a stall and before I know it I’m hanging out there whilst they walk around looking for an internet connection. I meet an older English gentleman on Day 2 with the most peculiar hair dye. Just grow old gracefully dude but no, he insists on an African Orange Fanta rinse that merely highlights that yes he has his own hair but no, that’s not it’s natural colour. He tells me what he does and I tell him that I organise events for black people. That’s usually a conversation stopper. And he takes the hint and leaves.
The next day I was dressed for warmth not sexiness. I was left alone for the most part. Winter is a good time for the curvy woman. People just assume you are fat. But on the last day I wore the leggings. These leggings do something to my butt that lifts it and pushes it out and…yeah, it’s not like I really need the help but hey, I was feeling leggings.
Fanta guy spotted me and seemed to step to me with a different energy. A lot more flirtatious and his eyes never quite meet mine. I smiled politely and waiting for the white man approach. It is obvious and yawnfully droll and yet we still do the dance. Eventually he said it
“My ex- partner is Nigerian”.
Ah! I say in hopes that this is the end of the conversation but I know it isn’t. Then he says, “She was a bit too villagey though.” Right so I’m meant to assume he’s caught jungle fever but he wants one that is less bush? He sounds like a real prize.
Then he shows me videos of his daughter with the village girl. The village girl is in the video and is younger than me. Drat, he goes for women in their 20s. How old is he I’m thinking and I reckon he’s in his early to mid 50s. We are not a match. His child is cute as are most 2 year olds but I’m not sold. Why would I want this man? Because he likes black women? I don’t get why I’m supposed to be so flattered but apparently I am. He tells me that he never wanted kids but now….
He comes back later and I pretend to be overly intrigued by the Olympics. Why did it have to be BMX racing at that time. I pretend to love BMX. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. He says, “Yeah but how old are those boys?” Erm, pot, kettle, white? I see and seize my opportunity. I tell him I too like younger partners. See we have something in common. I swallow the fact that the BMXers are like 16 years old. They’ll forgive me using them. Desperate times!
But he didn’t live in Nigeria for nowt. He starts to tell me that we should keep in touch, meet etc. I do the tight smile of many a woman when they don’t want to keep in touch. Creepy Fanta sees it and being old knows what it means so tries to impress me with his knowledge of conspiracy theories. As most people know I’m not a fan. He chooses a topical Olympic bomb one. Great. I tell him I’m going to the stadium the next day. He starts to tell me about his interest in religion and spirituality. I tell him I’m an aethesist. He tells me about the corruption of Nigerians. I tell him I am dating a Nigerian banker.
And eventually his Englishness kicks on as he realises that I’m not his next baby mama. Can you imagine me trying to explain that hair colour to our children? It’s Fanta orange my Angel. Fanta Orange. I would have to take them to Africa for them to appreciate it. No, I just can’t
© Chelsea Black
