I'm tired of black men...but then again I'm not

Day 2... First initial conversation

My sanity is the most important thing above everything for me to even exist in this caliginous world.

I pull up at my job, and per usual, the place is packed on a Sunday afternoon. I can barely find a parking spot in this small parking lot. I keep telling Tom, the owner, that he needs to extend the parking lot whenever he pays us the honor by stopping by twice a year. All I get is "will do" in his British accent but still no extension.

Shaking my head. I don't even know why I try.

I enter through the back door, which is the team member entrance.

"Hey girl," Laura says as I enter into the back office to clock in.

Laura is the most chilled boss a young lady such as myself can ask for. She's my boss but also my friend. I was hired by her two years ago. She said my personality was addicting, admirable, and she needed that kind of energy around her. And ever since, we've been good friends.

She is a white lady in her mid-thirties, with shoulder-length red hair, big bold brown eyes, and puffy pink lips. She is pretty in a unique way. Never seen anyone that looks relatively like her before.

She belongs on a cover page of somebody's magazine, which I tell her almost every day. I tell her constantly that she is way too pretty and too good to be a damn manager at a restaurant. She laughs every time and says, "I can say the same thing about you being a hostess at the same restaurant." Touché

"Hey girl," I say in return.

We engage in small talk for a few minutes. In a short time, she informs me about her 2-year-old daughter and how she is definitely in her terrible twos, and I laugh hard at the stories she cares to share with me. She also goes on about how her husband is planning something big for their anniversary, and she wants to know so bad what it is.

Somewhere between this and that, as she continues to go on and on about her personal life, I can't help myself as I daydream what it would be like to have a husband or kid? But immediately, I place those thoughts back to where they came from, never-never land.

I know marriage and kids are out of the question for me at the moment. Shit, I'm still trying to figure myself out. I can't possibly dedicate myself to a husband or child yet.

She finishes off, and then I head to my hostess stand thinking again, what if I was married and had a child?

I shake the thoughts away and slightly laugh as I begin my shift.

It has to be around 8 pm when I spot the sexy white guy that handed me his number and the $50 bill yesterday.

Why does he make the most simple casual clothing look so damn good and effortless?

He has on some all-black joggers with the matching black hoodie and his infamous all-black chucks. Mmm mm m

Before I can stop myself... my bottom lip is tucked between my teeth while I stare at him as he sits at the bar; well, that's until he catches me and smiles.

Dimples?

Shit, why didn't I notice them before?

Can this man get any sexier?

I quickly look away and seat the next group of people at their table, avoiding his glare as I pass by him.

I need to avoid him at all costs. I don't like the feelings that arrive when I'm around him.

They're very bazaar to me, and I need them to subside.

Time flies by too fast at this place, and before I know it, I'm closing my shift, counting my tips, and locking up for the night.