Chapter 4: Dating White

Now that I am single and unencumbered by family in the same city or country breathing words of advice and warning me off the white devil, I decided to try the local cuisine. I count myself liberal in all matters men.. if they are not related to me, they can definitely be sampled. And to top it off, I like all sorts of men- tall, short, brown, yellow, black, white, grey and I wanted to experiment with new flavors. 

And who would not want to date these nice looking, well groomed pale skinned men especially given the poor choice available amongst my Indian brethren? I mean, c’mon, let’s not delude ourselves- the average Indian male available to us in the tri-state area has bad taste in clothes (guys- Men’s Warehouse or Gap does not count as high fashion and even worse, shopping at Target and Walmart may save you a pretty penny but will not save face), hardly ever exercises (and walking the streets of New York is not a fitness regime!!), barely engages in outdoor sports (sipping whiskey on a ski slope does NOT count as a skiing holiday) and usually carries a doughnut around their stomach (unless it’s a fanny belt and that’s also a NO NO!!). So given these undesirable traits, is it a wonder that I am keen to check out whether the other side of the world has better fare- or at least one that definitely looks far more appetizing?

But the thing that perplexed me was why would these Caucasian men want to date a ‘fresh off the boat’ recent immigrant of brownish visage me? Especially when they have beauteous women of their own light-skinned race aplenty? I was happily told by my supportive group of white sisters that the ‘exotic’ comes to play. 

To play up the exotic, I immediately pierced my nose, let my hair grow long and wild, applied coats of liner and mascara and happily went off to dates with a chef, management consultant, film editor, IT type and also a blue collar worker. Once my friends back in India learnt of the latter, they happily volunteered to give their electrician, plumber and house-help a call and set up dates for my next visit to Mumbai.

Unfortunately, the white man dating has not gone too well. The white man’s search for the exotic has not ended permanently at my door apparently. I wonder if the challenges of understanding me over the phone, getting my sense of humor, lack of my understanding of their references to old TV shows, varsity football games, rite of passage mired in spring break etc has to do with it. 

It could potentially also be that under my brown skin and black hair, I can emulate the qualities of a drunk blonde rather successfully. My tastes in risqué humor, body friction and saliva exchange may not be too fitting into a 16^th century picture of a demure Indian princess, which the exotic seeker may be dreaming of.

On the other hand, it could also be just me. My endeavor at seeking to become a reborn virgin (they say after 12 months of restraint, the hymen grows back and I am trying to see whether the miracle works) post some heavy breathing, may be unforgiving for others. So I guess dashing their imperial hopes to colonize my body also had something to do with it.

But the will is strong and ample consumption of stronger spirits keeps me going in the chase for a white man with a brown heart!!! And in the meantime, I continue dating… after all, a girl’s got to eat!!!