2: Once You Go Black...

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Ch. 2

"Well, I don't pretend to know anything about the ways of men

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"Well, I don't pretend to know anything about the ways of men. As a dainty little woman like me...I just pray for the best and hope for God he's listening." I watched the show Underground on marathon for the second time. That still resonates with me. And that's exactly how I'm feeling after waking up on this glorious Sunday morning. Saturday nights are always a blur that I have to ask forgiveness for. I'm just hoping this is all worth it. I will soon let you know what it is.

"I fucked him," I say nonchalantly shrugging my shoulders as I hit the button to post my daily message on my blog.

It's Sunday morning aka the morning after. Before D'Anthony could even wake up I was out of there. I didn't want anyone in that frat house seeing me leave. As soon as the sun started coming up I was out of there like Flash and back at my apartment. I had to just suck it up and walk considering I don't live that far from campus. Now I'm sitting in the living room of Nubia's apartment with her and Sahara before I have to go to work.

"You what?!" Nubia and Sahara say in unison. I finally look up from my phone to see both of them looking at me with wide eyes.

"I had sex with him," I say popping a green grape into my mouth.

"Why? Why would you do that? Knowing all the shit he's said about us. About black women," Sahara says.

"The better question is how. How did you even-" Nubia said looking at me confused not being able to finish her statement.

"We were drunk," I say looking at my nails that needed to be done. I guess that would be considered a lie. I was tipsy, not really drunk because after hearing gunshots I sobered up some. He was more drunk than me. He wasn't all the way sobered up after emptying out his insides, but we both definitely knew what we were doing, especially me.

"You still didn't answer my question of why?" Sahara says aggressively.

"I did it in the name of journalism, Sahar!"

"Journalism?" They say in unison once again with a confused tone. "You sound bout dumb as fuck. I'm done with you. Gone pin your hoeness on journalism," Sahara says getting up and walking away towards the kitchen. "Really?"

Nubia scoots closer to me then waves her hand off. "Forget her! I wanna hear this," she says with an eager smile. "What's your master plan? I know you have one."

"She don't. She just a hoe!" Sahara yells from the kitchen as I roll my eyes.

"It's not necessarily a master plan, I'm just being petty. That and I wanna see what happens. If nothing happens, it doesn't. If it does, it does. It's kind of an experiment. A social experiment, shall I say."

"Explain," Nubia says with a hand motion for more.

"I want him to feel something. When he wakes up in the morning he's either going to remember fully or not. I don't care if he feels disgusted at the fact he did that or if he even starts questioning it all. I just want him to feel something. Did he feel indifferent or bad because he slept with a black woman? If indifferent then maybe he'll start reevaluating his mindset. Then I'm gonna interview him like it never happened and see where his mind's at..."

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