I am often asked about how I meet so many black men. Since I abandoned the world of internet dating I must admit that it has been slower and yet amazingly black men are everywhere. But when did this translate into men picking up women in the street? Yes my precious, I have become a victim of this new criminal lascivious act. The opportunistic street pick up attempts.

For example the other day I was walking towards a pop up Cinema at Brown’s when I felt a man touch me on the arm. I immediately assumed the Hidden Dragon, Suspicious Black Woman stance until I caught sight of pure fitness in jeans and a waistcoat. Are we still doing waistcoats over tight t-shirts? Anyhoo, I ignored the massive gold tooth and gave him my number. But as we crossed the road Goldie attempted an accidental butt graze disguised as chivalry. I’ve been crossing the road unaided since I was 4. I’m not sure if it was the gold tooth or the fact that he spoke like he had cotton wool in his mouth (you get me doh!) but, when he suggested I come round to watch DVDs at his place in Elephant and Castle I was not impressed. Was the recession so bad that I am not even worthy of a Nandos date anymore?

Then walking towards the bus stop one day with traffic moving slowly a guy took full advantage. He curb crawled and hollered out of the window at me a la TLC Scrubs style except he was on his own. I’m not sure if the car was particularly low or he was short but all I can say is that he was persistent! Not even irate cab drivers could put him off his course. Eventually I had to tell him that with this level of persistence he MUST be West African. Turns out I was right. And he was young. But the universe and Hollywood rewards persistent men and with the sun shining I felt that it was only fair that I do the same. I gave him my blackberry pin. I am now subjected to daily messages of nothing much and humbly await the suggested date.

Then on a train to Kent I saw a guy who though he was related to LL Cool J. Not since the 80s has there been so much lip licking activity. He gave me the look and I ignored him, diving into my M&S lunch. I overheard his conversation to his wife or girlfriend and figured I was safe until we arrived at Sidcup. As I walked up the street a car pulls up and it’s lip licker in a car from the 80s. He offers me a lift. Do men seriously think we will get into their cars?

So beware my precious, there is an 80s quality revival going on and it starts with the waist coats and scrub pick up attempts. A recession is a terrible, terrible thing

© Chelsea Black