We met on Friday, May 13, 2005 in Downtown Atlanta.
A city where heterosexual men outnumber women 10 to 1. A city full of clubs that offer any type of black party you like from chic to bling to bohemian. A city full of strippers that reinvented Karma Sutra positions every night making the average sister cringe with insecurity.
And yes, sadly, Atlanta is a city full of lonely and frustrated, single black women. And for some time, that was me.
I settled in Atlanta nine months before I met him, leaving Los Angeles to reinvent myself for the seventh time. A recovering journalist who was still trying to kick the rush of deadlines and eating in the car as the norm, I decided to give into my PhD jones and went back to school. By the end of my first semester I re-mastered the art of juggling little cash and learned to maneuver through the many layers of social-political scenes in the complicated big town with aspirations to be a big city.
But unbeknownst to me, the man who saw me walking down Decatur by the Underground Mall, did a double take. He waited for me as I rounded the corner thinking about eating a pseudo-burrito at Mo's while listening to a neo-soul something on a six-year-old cd player and busted headphones.
He stopped me, started a conversation that convinced me to have a light lunch with him. His Jersey accent and brown eyes were nothing compared to his refreshing conversation. I was so taken aback, I paid for our meal.
We ate falafels, with my last $10 (he didn't know I was broke). Then he invited me to dinner and a movie that night. Sushi at Twist, and the film, Crash.
We held hands and talked about our lives as we caught the last Marta train to my stop. He walked me home and kissed me lightly on the lips.
Almost five year's later, on February 6, 2010, we asked each other's hand in a Bobby Flay Restaurant.
This blog is dedicated to my journey into the blending of souls, families, incomes, and insanity. Yes, I am getting married. Black couples do exist and I am one of them.
I named this blog Darker Than Blue to represent the depth of my love for my soul brother, my soon-to-be husband, and the love I have for black love. It embodies a depth that I am still understanding.
I also dedicate this blog to the parents who birthed me and my soon-to-be. They are still together and have offered a foundation that I am thankful to stand on.
As well, this is for my sisters who are also on the path of finding their soul partners. I am with you and I send you light.
Walk with me and I with you.
love and balance
darker than blue
A city where heterosexual men outnumber women 10 to 1. A city full of clubs that offer any type of black party you like from chic to bling to bohemian. A city full of strippers that reinvented Karma Sutra positions every night making the average sister cringe with insecurity.
And yes, sadly, Atlanta is a city full of lonely and frustrated, single black women. And for some time, that was me.
I settled in Atlanta nine months before I met him, leaving Los Angeles to reinvent myself for the seventh time. A recovering journalist who was still trying to kick the rush of deadlines and eating in the car as the norm, I decided to give into my PhD jones and went back to school. By the end of my first semester I re-mastered the art of juggling little cash and learned to maneuver through the many layers of social-political scenes in the complicated big town with aspirations to be a big city.
But unbeknownst to me, the man who saw me walking down Decatur by the Underground Mall, did a double take. He waited for me as I rounded the corner thinking about eating a pseudo-burrito at Mo's while listening to a neo-soul something on a six-year-old cd player and busted headphones.
He stopped me, started a conversation that convinced me to have a light lunch with him. His Jersey accent and brown eyes were nothing compared to his refreshing conversation. I was so taken aback, I paid for our meal.
We ate falafels, with my last $10 (he didn't know I was broke). Then he invited me to dinner and a movie that night. Sushi at Twist, and the film, Crash.
We held hands and talked about our lives as we caught the last Marta train to my stop. He walked me home and kissed me lightly on the lips.
Almost five year's later, on February 6, 2010, we asked each other's hand in a Bobby Flay Restaurant.
This blog is dedicated to my journey into the blending of souls, families, incomes, and insanity. Yes, I am getting married. Black couples do exist and I am one of them.
I named this blog Darker Than Blue to represent the depth of my love for my soul brother, my soon-to-be husband, and the love I have for black love. It embodies a depth that I am still understanding.
I also dedicate this blog to the parents who birthed me and my soon-to-be. They are still together and have offered a foundation that I am thankful to stand on.
As well, this is for my sisters who are also on the path of finding their soul partners. I am with you and I send you light.
Walk with me and I with you.
love and balance
darker than blue
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