Sunday, April 14, 2013

The hispanic waitress story (long overdue follow-up to an ancient post)

This is a post about race and sexuality.

OK, upfront fact: not only am I white, I am about as white as they come.  I am one half Ozark white trash and one half Appalachian white trash.  Blonde hair blue eyes ruddy skin -- the whole fuckin white boy package.  Just check off all the goddamned boxes, including a wee bit of Native American ancestry on the Ozark side -- the single whitest thing a white person can claim, in fact!!! 

My dad was a runaway from Oklahoma who grew up on a farm.  My mom grew up in an unfinished basement that never got the actual house built on top of it -- in the middle of coal country.  Hell, her dad died of lung cancer contracted from work!  How fuckin Appalachian is that?!

So, no disputes are allowed here.  Genetically, I am as low a form of white trash as you can get without anyone actually blowing up a trailer trying to cook meth.  Hopefully that provides a bit of inoculation to what I am about to say.  Maybe not.  Maybe I'm just an asshole.  That's quite possible.

I like to read things that fall a bit outside my portfolio of expertise.  I was reading this blog post on the problem of black women having trouble finding marriageable black men.  I have no intentions of commenting at any length on that whole issue.  Suffice it to say, my viewpoint is that being a black chick in America is a shit deal, IMHO.  Frankly, all the raw data you'll ever need on the subject comes from a slightly infamous post on OKCupid's data blog that they used to give a fuck about.

Consider this infamous quote from OKC:
Black women reply the most, yet get by far the fewest replies. Essentially every race—including other blacks—singles them out for the cold shoulder.

Now for my story about race . . .

This got me to finally post something I've been stewing on for a long time without posting about. 

Now, this is all personal and anecdotal.  So, try to treat it accordingly.  OK?  OK.  Thank you.

One of my oldest posts still on this website is about a waitress who was trying to hit it off with me.  One detail I never imputed into the post is the component of race.  Other details I managed include never mentioning where that all went.

First thing first: race.  The waitress is Puerto Rican.  Her mom is on the rather Afro-Caribbean side and her dad is kinda standard swarthy, light brown skinned hispanic.  She grew up in a very black American neighborhood.  Every guy she dated in high school was black.  She herself could be passably white if she wanted to go that direction.  She doesn't.  She angles more toward laying the hispanic on super thick.

By the time she was waitressing, she was in college.  Different environment at the college.  Predominantly white.  Well, as white as you can expect in a public American college in the 2010s, anyhow.  I'd call it about 55-45 split between whites and minorities.  Which, again, in the 2010s is a very white college.  To add a bit of LOLs, a lot of the minorities are in fact Asian.  (And oooooh do the other minorities on the campus not like them at all.)

Second thing second: she and I got to know each other a bit without dating. 

Don't worry, the Aloof Guy doesn't disappoint you by suddenly becoming needlessly kind or social or romantic.  I gave her a proper good ignoring that puts her in the top tier of all the chicks who have ever made the mistake of falling for me and then orbiting me in the vague hope I'd ask them out.  In fact, she has since graduated and she still comes back on occasion looking for me!  She's more than two full years into pining for me and orbiting.  Added LOLs: it's a five hour drive to get here.  Top tier Aloof Guy orbiter.  No question.

Third thing: there is strange event that occurs in the life of every educated light-skinned hispanic girl I have ever known.  It's the moment she discovers there is a whole world of white boys out there.  I swear, every light-skinned hispanic college chick eventually has a white friend who turns her on to hockey.  And then the hispanic chick looks at all those rough faced, athletic white boys beating the shit out of each other and exclaims, "OMG, I never knew there was a female-centric porn channel on regular cable!"

That's a big thing I've noticed with hispanic women.  They're not open to all white guys.  Blonde hair helps, don't get me wrong.  But, they have a hard time perceiving white men as masculine.  But, if you are a white man who comes off as masculine, then you can roll in as much hispanic pussy as your dick can handle.

I mention this in the context of the earlier "black women can't find good black men" post because it fits in the stream of that notion of black men pursuing white women.  There is a very similar problem with hispanic women pursuing white men.  It just happens to be that hispanics don't take shit for doing it.  (In fact, this should be considered a subset of the growing trend of hispanics ticking off the box next to "white, non-hispanic" on the census form.)

The life of an Aloof Guy orbiter

By my math, this girl signed up to be an orbiter back in March of 2010 (holy shit does that make me feel old).  At the time she was too young to even serve alcohol at the club she worked at.  That's why she was a waitress in the restaurant portion of the bar section.

My orbiters always go through various phases of frustration.  (The classic case, IMHO, here.)  And the waitress was no different.  Making things worse for her, this was phase in my life where I was coming into money and starting to travel.  This is the phase in my life where I started getting into shape.  This is the phase where I started fucking around with various women in a much more deliberate manner.

In short, this was a really terrible time to be the orbiting female around me who had just gotten her ass friendzoned.

On the racial front, it was funny to go back and look at her posts online on Facebook and Twitter.  Her time around me is like the K-T Boundary in the geological record.  The time before me she posts nothing but stuff about how black guys are hot.  The time after me it's wall-to-wall white guys. 

There's a brief period where you can watch her old high school friends challenge her credibility, basically saying "you're no longer legit" and she protests back protesting that she still like black guys.  Then there's a sharp line where she just stops giving a fuck and stops protesting altogether.

More horrifying, she starts posting shit on Twitter feed cryptically aimed at me.  Positng song lyrics and quotes to the effect "You need to tell people you love them" and "You'll never be happy if you don't open up".  And a whole legion of guys who were pining for her all pop their heads and start asking if the quotes are about them.  And she brutally smacks them all down.

In the club -- because amazingly enough she often spent her off-nights there, too -- guys were always getting pissed at her for not giving them any play.  And the only guy she ever sought out was me -- and by sought out, I mean she stood there jumping up and down like a Jack Russell Terrier on meth, waving her hands to signal me from across the room.  She'd park herself on my left arm and just lean there against me.  She yacked my ear off and I seriously cannot remember a single conversation we had.

Further LOLs: during this time she ignored every guy who hit on her, but she managed to end up in a casual lesbian relationship with her roommate!  I might have broken this girl on men.  I'm a little too proud of that.

Even more cruelly, I would disappear to go travel and not tell her.  So, I sometimes disappeared for weeks or even months at a time.  She would never overtly seek me out.  Never messaged me.  But, she would be glad when I got back.  Until the fifth time I did that. The next time I came back and she saw me she didn't talk to me and she just glared at me as she walked past.

That night, on Twitter, I called her out on it.  She didn't reply.

The next time I saw her a week later, she waved me over to talk to her and apologized saying she was just having a bad night.  She was very bubbly, very drunk and was very touchy.  I told her it was OK and walked away from her to order my drink.  She parked herself on my left arm and I continued to ignore her.  Then I got my drink and walked away from her.

That's the last time we made any real effort to talk to each other.  I disappeared to do a lot of traveling, including my epic Europe trip that I still need to post someday on here.

I think she stopped going out as much, because I had a hard time running into her even after I got back from Europe.  I ended up running into her again the night before her graduation ceremony.  She didn't say much and then that was that.

Until a couple months later she started coming back to the area every few weekends to hangout with her friends.  The one night she saw me.  I saw her lean forward to look past her friends and saw her eyes get huge.  I stopped walking that direction when I spotted her and instead parked myself along a rail at the club, away from her and her friends.  She decided to hop past her friends and park herself near without saying anything.

After a couple minutes, I just walked away and went to sit somewhere else by myself.  A couple hours later she spotted me when she went to order a drink at the bar area near where I was sitting.  She gave me the big-eyed look again.  Still didn't say anything.  She grabbed her drink and sat down two tables away from me for a couple minutes.  Then she got up and left.

About twenty minutes later, I saw her standing by herself, leaning on the rail, looking right down at me in my seat.  She wasn't even bothering to be subtle.  She was looking straight at me.  When I looked up and made eye contact with her, she looked like she was going to bust out crying.

But, girls never let me catch them crying.  We have rules about that sort of behavior.  Instead, she just kept locked right on me.  I looked away.  A couple minutes later I glanced up and she was still there staring right at me.  Rinse and repeat a couple times until she finally disappeared.  I later spotted her with her friends.  She didn't notice me.  I let it go.

That night on her Twitter she was posting song lyrics about "I've done all I can do" and "I need you to do something too" or whatever the fuck it was and such.  I've since started monitoring her Twitter feed to make sure she isn't around the area when I go out.  And if she is, I go to another town to troll for ass.

Funny thing is, through all of this, she never just overtly asked me.  In fact, there's a funny episode in her online postings where she's whining about why women can't bring themselves to ask a guy out.  Painful stuff in a way.  For all the beating herself up over me, she drew the line at leaning on me.  That was her limit.  If it couldn't be boyfriend-girlfriend, well then she was just going to sit there leaning on me like I already was her boyfriend.  She'd just sit there until she became embedded and then I'd have no choice.

OK . . . I'll admit it.  I'm a fuckin prick.  When I put all this down, I see it.  I'm just mean.

Oh, well . . . that's enough picking at this particular scab.

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