And so it starts...

I started this blog because I feel like no one is really REAL about interracial relationships. Everyone has their qualms, prejudices, or preconceived notions about the subject. Even if you are in an interracial relationship, everyone has different experiences. My feeling is: the more insight the better. Another thing is that everything in my relationship is a story. It really has nothing to do with us being interracial, it's just that we inadvertantly end up on adventures.

So here goes...

We've been together for almost 3 years. It will be 3 years on June 24th. We met at the let-out. If you're not black and on some sort of club scene you probably don't know what "the let-out" is. It's the crowd the congregates in the parking lot of the club after it closes. I've come to realize that no other culture calls this the let-out. It IS an entire culture. It's the time when all the people that were trying to impress each other in the club, try to impress each other in the parking lot. I have friends who don't actually go to the club, but instead have get togethers at home then go to the let-out as if it's an event. That's how much of a gathering it is. As a point of reference the last let-out I witnessed was by complete accident. I was led there unknowingly by my bestfriend after a bachlorette party. I saw the glitter painted Caprices, 20-inch rims, cop cars, and half-naked women and thought to myself 'thank God this was never my hobby'.

Anywho that's where me and him met. I thought he was a joke because he came out of nowhere asking if he could walk my friend and me to my car. He's a very fair-skinned Mexican and I was pretty drunk so I thought he was white. Plus he used to wear black-rimmed glasses that made him look like the Verizon wireless guy. So just looking at him I felt like he wasn't my type, therefore I couldn't have been his. I figured he was just another drunk guy at the let-out.

He stood outside my car chatting me up while his friends honked the horns of their cars across the street calling for him to vamos. If you've ever been to Studio 63 (http://www.studio63nightclub.com/) in Chicago you can get a visual of this scene. I told him 'if they're giving you a ride home you better go because I'm not taking you anywhere'. This was my response based on the type of guys that I was attracted to at the time...losers (for lack of a better word). Matter of fact, at this time I'd restricted myself from getting into any so-called 'relationships' based on the fact that I apparently was too immature to be attracted to a decent guy. Then he came along. I gave him my number and about 5 minutes after driving away from Studios (as it's called) he calls me. My girl and I were on our way to Huckfinn's, the 24-hour diner and doughnut shop and usual let-out after "party". Yes, I taken back by how quickly he called back, but in hindsight he was drunk so it kind of made sense. As my friend pleaded with me not to (because no guys would try to talk to her if he came with us) I ok'd his offer to join us.

At Huckfinn's he and I talked for hours. Later he would tell me that he knew I was special because I chose to share a Philly croissant with him (yes this is Chicago, we take the fattest of all sandwiches - a Philly - and put it on a croissant) instead of just ordering it for myself. Truth is back then I was skinny and it mattered so I didn't want to pig out. I guess everything happens for a reason because he accepted my - still drunken - invitation to Great America the next day. (I had a buy one get one free pass and whatever loser I was talking to at the time had bailed on me the day before.) Well by then it was maybe 6am, so I guess it wasn't the next day anymore, but more like a couple hours later. Although I'd only met him hours earlier he accompanied me, my best friend, her - at the time - boyfriend, and her nephew to Great America that morning. He was known throughout the day as "stranger-insert name here" since no one knew who the hell he was. It was just like me to bring some random guy I'd met the night before (at the let-out of all places) to Great America (of all places). The rest is history. A history that I've chosen to share with you.

Did I mention that the night of the let-0ut was his birthday? His drunken birthdays will come into play annually in this relationship...