Looks Aren’t Everything: My Lesson on Dating The Most Ugliest Gorgeous Man.

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He was gorgeous. He was over 6 feet tall with lusterious deep brown skin. he has light brown eyes, a bald head, and a beard so perfectly lined I used to wonder if it was real. He had nice eyelashes and a smile that looked like he belonged on a Colgate commercial. I hated when he smiled when I was upset because it was like my panties removed themselves! At the beginning his looks were enough to make me overlook his shitty attitude.

He was my very first lesson on why looks don’t mean shit. He was a physique body builder and I never had seen a body quite like his. His abs were so well defined you could pour water on them and it created it’s own irrigation system. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body and when we had sex he didn’t have a bad angle. He didn’t suck his stomach in like I did or dim the lights so that it provided an illusion. He was Adonis in chocolate. At first I felt fortunate. Here was this movie star looking man attracted to me, drawn to me, and could get it up to me. Again, I’m not unattractive. I felt I was often in his presence. Whenever we’d go out for dinner or a movie people couldn’t believe he was my date, whenever we sat down anywhere!! Women would magically bend over needing to pick up imaginary items, smile at him, try their best to be within an earshot of us! and As much fun I thought it was to have Adonis, It quickly dawned on me that other women wanted him too.

I can’t say the conversations we had were ground breaking or stimulating. I couldn’t say I really liked him all that much over time because of the way he began to treat me, but I can unabashedly say this: “The sex was fire!”.

He was self-centered. He was a bully. He was flashy and never practical. He refused in sub zero weather to wear a coat because it didn’t highlight his muscle composition. He had very little compassion for others, and took very little accountability for his actions. He had an individualistic fallacy mentality that I always found incredibly problematic. “Black people don’t try hard enough” He would often say. These remarks never sat well with me because I would spew statistics and post civil rights discrimination practices. He would ignore it, I would get pissed off, and we’d have amazing sex. Here we were in a constant cycle of his idiot remarks, my “educated” ones, and sex. Lather rinse repeat.

As I mentioned again he was a jerk. A judgmental one, an uppity one, but a jerk nonetheless. So, one day while waiting outside my job for him to pick me up started wondering what the hell were we? When women don’t like each other, but are sorta there for each other they call themselves “frenemies”, but what did you call people who couldn’t stand each other but fucked? As I got in the car, I remained silent trying to figure this out. “Jasmine, I have this thing I need to do tonight and I wanted to know if you wanted to come. I volunteer there helping black men uplift themselves. Do you want to come? we can go on our date afterwards”

“Sure,that sounds like a lot of fun! ” Honestly, I was shocked and impressed. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad. Maybe his tough guy I don’t give a shit about anyone was a facade. Maybe we COULD be something more.Maybe there was a deeper side to him.

Hmm. I was an idiot.

As we arrived to this organization. Everyone knew him, but was calling him an entirely different name. I didn’t want to humiliate him, so I played along. People asked me how I knew him I told them at a bar. Which wasn’t a lie..entirely. (We met on Tinder, met up at a bar and we both realized neither of us drank alcohol and sat in his car and talked for hours and he dropped me off home). I started to look around for my date, he would be off talking to some guy about politics and -isms. Whenever I would try to join the conversation he would stop and act nervous. I knew something felt off here I was the only woman in a room full of men who called him by an entirely different name.

When it was time to leave. I asked him why did everyone call him a different name and he replied with his full name and that he liked to go by his middle. Still kinda confused and feeling like I couldn’t trust him. We went back to his place to watch the boondocks and have sex. Wasn’t my finest hour, but when he dropped me off home the next morning. I decided to look him up. I asked for his date of birth for astrological purposes and he gave it to me. I sent him a screenshot some generic websites astrological love match results and went to work. I’m not proud of this, but something felt strange.

When I hit “Search” the results popped up. He had several charges. First degree murder, Sexual Criminal Conduct 1st degree (rape), first degree possession with intent to sell, etc, etc. I started reading the criminal complaints because I didn’t want to believe it was him. He never forced himself on me, he never gave me a reason to be afraid of him, he was just an asshole. I’m sure it’s the wrong guy. We were going on a date later that night to a movie. To confirm my suspicions I asked questions or tried to casually anyway. “Do you have a nickname?. my nickname is Tippy”.. he gave me it and it matched the complaints.

I was devastated and frightened because I wasn’t quite sure what we were doing together anyway. Was he going to kill me in the movie theater? was he going to harm me in some way? Devastated, but not devastated enough we went back to his place to have sex. (This one I wasn’t proud of) Realizing that in my short lived life he gave me no reason to be afraid of him, his past was something that he was obviously ashamed of and that who the hell was I to judge? After all he was an incredibly good looking guy who was attracted to me despite the fact that we argued A LOT! He wasn’t the one with the problem. Clearly it was me!

Wrong.

I kept my knowledge of his past a secret. I tried my best to extend a courtesy to him that he did not display with others which was compassion. I tried until…. “I don’t understand how black men have criminal records. It’s not that hard to stay out of trouble!” On behalf of my “criminal” brothers and “criminal” uncles and “criminal” Dad who was often harassed by cops and sent to jail for things like spitting on a sidewalk and cutting through an alley. I snapped.

“Who the hell are you to judge people about their criminal history when you got rape, murder, and drugs on your record??!!!” It flowed out of my mouth without any second thought. I was heated and there we were glaring at each other. Glaring! And you guessed it! We had sex.

After the sex, he confessed his sins to me. I began to see him for what he was a scared little boy who needed to judge others harshly because if anyone really got close to him he would eventually have to explain the horrors of his past. He liked control which is why he had such a strict diet regimen, he worked out everyday, he worked on his body to his liken. He wanted to get bigger. I admit he looked amazing,but the two most important places he failed to work out was his heart and his mind. All of this time I was worried if I was good enough for him that I hadn’t quite considered if he was good enough for me.

I would love to say we didn’t fuck after this and we went our separate ways, but we did for a few more weeks. Hoping there would be a shift in his character after our argument and his confession. I had thought I would see a deeper side to him. I didn’t. He recoiled back into his same ol’ asshole ways and he gradually became uglier and uglier to me.

I ran into him recently and there wasn’t any malice or sadness or what could’ve been. He offered to give me a ride home. I knew where this was headed and I politely said “No thanks” and wished him a good day. He was still gorgeous, but that shit didn’t mean a damn thing!!

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