Why Black Men Prefer White Women

Brother Samuel here. Your favorite big and tall, openly bisexual black male writer and urban adventurer. Currently residing in Brockton's West Side. Sometimes, I think black women are their own worst enemies. More than anything else, they're the ones who drive black men to dating and marrying women of other races. Black women are uncompromisingly problematic. More so than females of other races, it seems. It's like they got a bone to pick with the entire world. Male or female, black or white, straight or gay, we're all human damn it. We've all been wronged at some point so we're all entitled to feeling frustrated. But black chicks are the worst, man. Seriously. They're never happy! I don't think they'd be happy if someone handed each and every single one of them a billion dollars simply for smiling for sixty seconds! What the hell is their problem? If I sound angry, it's because I am. I'm a fairly decent guy who's been mistreated. Damn it, I've got the right to feel angry. If you don't like it, I don't give a fuck.

Explain to me how I was in the Champion City Community College library the other day and two women I've known for years showed me completely different sides to themselves. The librarian's assistant, a plump black woman named Bernice Banal was acting all bitchy and controlling about the computer usage in the library. She was the designated computer Nazi at the library. I'm a former student. You think they'd show me more kindness. Nope. She had to be a bitch about the whole thing, imposing restrictions on non-students as they used the four public-access computers.

Women as a lot are a dangerous, unpredictable group. But that day I saw two of them who were as different as night and day. Here I was, sitting alone at the computer, trying to edit this book which I'm trying to fix before sending it to my publisher. It's about a fiction anthology about the life and loves of male and female villains in modern-day America. I came to the community college library to work on it because my sociopathic aunt Gabrielle's son Michael and daughter Cassandra are hogging up the computer at home. That is when her husband Louis isn't using it to look at skinny white women wrestling each other online. Yeah, I come to the campus library at night because it's my safe haven. Usually.

Anyway, I was working on fixing the anthology when someone hollered, trying to get my attention. That someone was none other than this young white woman named Marybeth Winston, who used to go out with my sometime friend Ivan Aurelius. He's a stocky, not-very-bright black guy I met at city college a few years back. He's Haitian, and goes to the Haitian Seventh-Day Adventist Church of Champion City. I see him on campus sometimes. I think he's majoring in radiology or something like that. It's through Ivan that I met Marybeth, though I understand they've since broken up. Marybeth was fine-looking if you ask me. A tall, busty, wide-hipped and big-bottomed young white woman with porcelain skin, short red hair and warm brown eyes. Once, Ivan and I went to her house in Braintree. She was a really cool gal who made us feel welcome. Personally, I don't know what she sees in a loser like Ivan. The dude is a total nut job but I hear that's what attracts women these days. Nice guys don't get women. Only psychos, thugs, losers and poseurs do. Go figure.

Anyway, if I thought Marybeth was okay before, she looked golden to me now. Why? I'll get to that in a second. Earlier, Bernice Banal, the arrogant black dame proceeded to act out her feminine version of the Napoleon Complex and show me who was really the boss at the Champion City Community College Library. The thing is that she acts like a saint around the men and women who work at the library. Most students never saw her dark side either. She was all smiles around them. I'm the only one she shows her nasty side to so I'm the only person who sees her for the mean-spirited and dark-hearted woman she really is. Watching Bernice in action reminded me of how wicked women could be, seemingly for no reason at all. Hate to sound like a hater but the truth must be told. Men aren't saints. We do our share of damage in this world. But there's always a reason behind what we do and why we do it. Not always a good reason or even a smart one, but there's a reason nonetheless. The reverse isn't true with women. Especially the black gals I seem to meet. They hate us black men with a fiery passion. What gives?

I wasn't in the best of moods when Marybeth came calling. Nevertheless, I put on a smile and asked her how she was doing. Marybeth stood there, and we talked for a moment. She told me that she'd recently switched her major from nursing to social work. When I asked her what brought this change about, she had the most amazing story to share with me. She told me how at the place where she worked, she was a caregiver for a young man with some kind of bone disease. It rendered him utterly helpless. She grew to see this as more than just a job. She cared about people. In the nursing profession, she saw lots of women and men who got on the job for all the wrong reasons. They became nurses to make money. That's not what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to help people, and she couldn't do that as a nurse. She would be more efficient as a social worker. As I listened to this young woman's impassioned story, I found myself smiling.

I had to smile. Marybeth found my smile puzzling. She had no idea what she had done to me, or for me. You see, I open my TV everyday and I see commercials where men are made to look like fools. In the movies, men are portrayed as evil doers. Lawmakers think of men as predators and of women as pure radiant saints. And most women living in America got no problem with that. That's what makes me distrust the whole lot of them. The mistreatment of innocent men doesn't seem to bother the majority of women. In my heart of hearts, I secretly hoped that at least some women gave a damn about us men. Because as a man I'm slowly losing hope. If what Marybeth said was true, then she just might be one of those few decent women I hoped still existed in today's America. I congratulated her on following her heart and choosing to help people instead of going only after the money. She smiled and shrugged. We looked at each other silently. Marybeth asked me how Ivan was. I shrugged, and told her he was okay. She handed me a piece of paper with her number on it, and told me to say hi to Ivan for her next time I saw him. I assured her that I would do that, then we shook hands and she left the library.

I watched Marybeth as she walked away. Hot damn. White gal's got booty! Why in hell did Ivan let her go? The gal was pretty, friendly, smart, goal-oriented and apparently a decent person. And she had a fine ass too. Maybe Ivan knows something I don't. Or maybe he's a fool who passed up a good thing. I'm definitely keeping her number. As I waved goodbye to Marybeth, I noticed Bernice Banal giving me a dirty look. I've seen similar looks on the faces of black women when they see a black man with a white woman. They get all mad and stuff, yet they are proud of their mistreatment of said black man when he approaches them to holler. See what I mean? They all got issues. It's not my problem. I've got better things to do with my time than figuring out why ninety nine percent of black women are man-haters. Oh, I know plenty of women of other races got some misandry ( hatred of men ) in them too. It's just that among the black ladies, man-hating is a cult and a religion in and of itself. Here's to those ladies out there who don't subscribe to Man-Hating Magazine. I know they're rare, and I'd be happy to buy them a drink sometime. Anyhow, I've got to go. Peace.