I recently admitted the truth and told my friends, “I love black men. I’m not attracted to white men at all, and I’m not dating them anymore. Never again. Really, it’s the real me. Nobody was surprised. There are so many reasons:
1. Black skin is thick and lush, sensuous to the touch, like satin and velvet-made flesh. There’s only one patch of skin on a white man’s body that remotely compares to nearly every inch of a black man’s skin. The first time I caressed black skin, it felt like a luxury I shouldn’t be able to afford. I craved it more strongly than Carrie Bradshaw craved Manolo Blahnik shoes. That phrase, “Once you go black, you never go back” is all about the magical feeling of their skin. I want black men, they want me. We look at one another and exchange a visible frisson of sexual energy in the lingering glances.
2. Yes, the sex! The woman who goes after black men is a variant of sex journalist Susie Bright’s “white bitch in heat,” a woman who puts sex first even though women aren’t supposed to do that. It’s a “yes, baby, now I’m ready for you” reaction. When we get to the “yes, baby” place, they know it, and they are ready and waiting for us.
3. Black men have more energy, style, and edge than white men. They know how to flirt, a nearly lost art among the rest of us. Their sexuality is honest and real. Black men have something white guys don’t have anymore: confidence in their masculinity, their sexuality. They clearly know they are men. Real men. Compare that to white men who appear to be waiting for the latest sociological research study to let them know if they are men or not. A black man is so damned sexy because he knows how to make a woman feel sexy. Knows how to make her know and accept her place.
4. Yet black men are gentlemen, something else white men no longer are. They make me feel like a woman, both respected and desired. I can let go of my inhibitions, my need to control when I am with them. How many white men can treat a woman like a lady and ravish her too? Black men are so alive with erotic electricity that they can cut through the BS with a touch, a caress, a kiss and that freedom means I can truly touch them. I am like a pampered passenger in a Porsche with an expert driver at the wheel. I know I could suggest a route change, but I never really want to do that. On the other hand, the last time I had sex with a white man, we slogged along a bumpy road in a really old VW, the driver like the typical bumbling tv husband who would neither ask for nor accept the directions he badly needed.
5. My current Black lover, a handsome businessman, seduced me via eye contact at a neighborhood bar while I was eating burgers with a friend. Without saying a word, he paid the compliments, asked the questions with his expressive eyes. He didn’t move over to sit beside me and ask if he could buy me a drink until he knew the time was right. Both soft-spoken and assertive, he has impeccable manners and charm. I was kissing him in a cab 30 minutes after that drink. I am sure there must be some black men who aren’t good in bed. Personally, I have not experienced one who isn’t. They look better than white men. They touch and kiss and make love better than white men.
6. Black dick is bigger. Fact.