I consider changing the subject, but isn’t this the point of dating someone from the Ivy League? “And that disqualifies me from commenting on my own race?” I’m looking at her, studying the way her idealistic conviction seems to be coming into conflict with her southern propriety and attraction to me. “But I just think it’s more constructive to focus on the positive things the black community has at its disposal rather than perpetuate a compounding victim narrative that makes a group of people think they’re doomed before they even try to achievesuccess.” This date turned Senate hearing drags on, and in spite of how painfully awkward it gets, Leslie never wavers or wants to change the subject. Even I have my limits for social discomfort, though, and eventually, recognizing the need for some sort of peace offering, I flag down our waiter and order two shots of Maker’s.
In his free time he's on the board of solar-installation company Solar City.
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asks anonymous city dwellers to record a week in their sex lives — with comic, tragic, often sexy, and always revealing results. My mom pushed television on me when I started college. It’s refreshing to cover a fluffy story every once in a while. I grew up in a pretty diverse, middle-class suburban neighborhood. I tell him to let me know when he’s wrapping up with them. He doesn’t seem like he’s judging me, maybe because he’s ten years older than me. I’m sitting close to him and his knee is between my legs.
This week, a 26-year-old TV reporter seeing someone in a ten-year relationship: 26, straight, Fi Di. I don’t have a regional accent and people consider me more attractive than most (I do, too), so I decided to give it a shot. Shooting in Brooklyn for my first story of the day. As a black woman from So Cal, it’s exciting to be in NYC — but news is just exhausting. The lawyer I met during a court story last week texts me: . There were plenty of white guys in my high school and college — dating interracially was just something I didn’t really consider. I spread out on the couch and take off my bra (the best part of arriving home is freeing the boobs). Our messages are flirty, and then I get bored and ignore him. I wake up with one thing on my mind: It’s Friday and I want to get drunk. I’m pretty outgoing, but I don’t feel like being in any awkward social interactions tonight. I have a change of heart and text Mark to tell him I don’t mind meeting his friends. I roll into the bar late but everyone’s too drunk to care.