Wife is the Color of Water

 

Growing up in the black community I often never felt that I belonged. Forsaken I was indeed, especially by my own women. This could include both relatives and peers equally. It was as though if I wasn't called a "white boy I was called a "faggot." If those two degrading names weren't thrown at me I was called a "weirdo" or a "Oreo." The fate of my own existence was blurry and uncertain. Letting go and letting God was my only option. Not being a jock, a thug, or even a pretty boy made my existence more difficult to deal with.

  My solution for this may sound typical or plain but I didn't care. One particular night I remember sitting on a bench in my housing project neighborhood with my mother. While sitting at this bench me and my mother was talking about a serious topic that concerns the curiosity of a teenage boy. Simply, the conversation was about my interest in a girlfriend. Without any utterance I say aloud "I don't really like black girls like that." A look of shock on her face my mother asked me "Well what kind of girls are you into?" I would response back with a straight face and said "I like white girls only."

  Not to my surprise this offended my mother deeply. Combating my preference my mother got into the whole you need to stick to your race argument. In my humble opinion what did she expect from a fourteen year old that felt motherless. Although my mother didn't agree with me or my preference she still loved me unconditionally.

  My mentality would stay the same as I strolled into high school. Things would get worse within the turning of the decade. Whether prophecy or the decline of moral stature was to blame is still a topic of debate. Let's not forget to mention that these were early my early red pill rage days, meaning that I became aware that there was something very wrong with females of the west.

  However, this red pill rage would turn into a soothing ecstasy once I started attending college. Women of all shades, ethnicities, and religious backgrounds were sitting next to or around me in classes. I found some of their personalities warming and others cold as a winter's night. Calculating my encounters with multiple women of multiple backgrounds and experiences I would marry a woman of that reflects the color of water.

  Currently I'm not on the market and have nothing on stock. I was born to be a loner if one would ask me. Myself and modern women don't mix like oil and water. This doesn't mean that I've given up but I'm just tired. If I ever wanted to search for a soulmate all I have to do is look in a pond of water.