I. Loved. This. Shit.
You summarize my experiences with many White men (older/mature of course) since moving to FL 6–7 years ago. I’m the right kind of Black. I’m accepted in their social and business circles. I can talk about all sorts of things. I’m nice. Funny. I’m “exciting.” He wants to be seen with “me” touch my hand, and show off to his White uppity spaces he’s “hip.” They are the kind of men that would tell my ex-husband in my face that he had made a good choice in picking me…based on my physical appearance. They don’t even mind touching your skin without permission. They need no permission, for this world is theirs. I should simply be flattered a man of his white status would entertain my kind. I’m his teacher…he wants me to to give him lessons. I should be grateful. Oh yeah, they make sure they let you know early and often the ride is temporary and you’re usually second in line to someone they really prefer if they aren’t married hunting a side-piece.
Charity is the perfect way to express this arrogance. Thanks for putting a name to this type of attitude/interaction. It matches the creepy feeling I get when it happens.