By Emmanuel Williams

I don’t know.

I can’t mention her name, but I’m pretty sure a crush has re-awoken. For me if not for her. I may have an upcoming shot to talk to her one on one and my mind is top-heavy on fantasies about us.

The biggest problem is I think we’d be great together. These days all I want is a pretty girl I can always talk to who stays in my bed a lot.

Lol.

The bigger problem is how upsettingly beautiful she is. And like – can I even handle that???

I want to…

I’ve had a lot more confidence since my father passed recently. I actually gained a lot of peace and closure about where he’s been (all my fucking life, seriously) and a ton of family history from his friends, his brother and sister, and nurses who filled in several details about his character and childhood, all the way up to his last years. It helped me discover how alike or apart from my dad’s personality I have been and still remain.

But can I talk to hotter girls? At last?

My appeal is my personality. Overwhelmingly. That and my well-developed golden-brown skin that was blotchy as I grew up so I looked like Brandy from Cinderella even though I had never been burned.

Then there was my nappy hair.

Didn’t help my appeal to all the inner city, elementary school babes I was in class with who always seemed to prefer latin or mixed (black with white) boys instead of the freak show I must have come off as with my leopard spots and shy disposition.

Did I mention I had childhood asthma?

A lot of my personality today I get from my dad. I mean the fucker was just loveable. Multiple sources confirm it.

Which means I’m a great time, funny, and a good person.

By BLOOD.

And if what’s-her-hot-face doesn’t get to see it or doesn’t enjoy it, then I wipe myself of responsibility.

I believe there is someone for everyone. But as usual, I’m being impatient. That’s all.

The main reason I wanted to know my dad growing up was so he could tell me what to do about all my fuzzy, yet complicated, feelings about the beautiful women I would have been with from elementary through middle school, even in high school and frankly whenever I asked him goddamit I…

If I was more confident. And they were familiar with my cute style and cute personality. Though when I was a boy I wore poor child clothes and hand-me-downs. When I grew up, wardrobe was the first thing I fixed.

Now that I know what my dad was like, I can better imagine his advice and better problem solve my love life!

God, I’m just thankful he wasn’t Geek Squad material or captain of the chess club or had a stutter, or was paralyzed most of his life, or… Do you know he didn’t have a single mental health disorder?

I know!

If I play my blood right, I should be the cream of the crop actually. According to his sister, our family came down from slaves, but my grandpa bought the land he was a slave on from the very slavemaster himself. And when they wanted him to sell the land to a white man, he sad “fuck you” and sold it to another black man instead.

Righteous!

I should never shy away from owning the land, being a leader, being educated (as it turns out many of my ancestors were), or my ambition…

A proud black inheritance.

I can’t let, well, any pretty face, ruin all that. No matter how intimidated I might feel about her beauty and her options aside from me, I remain an excellent suitor and a fantastic bachelor any lady would be happy with forever.

As long as she cuddles.

Now,

While my value has improved after my father’s death, I don’t know if it will get me any prettier of a girl than I’m used to. 

I do feel ready for better. That’s key.

And it’s a feeling that burns larger and brighter every day now.

I can only be grateful.

=)