Diversity Rules Magazine

21 Diversity Rules Magazine September 2017 own destruction than a genius. My first surprise happens when I meet him in the lob- by. He kisses me and I feel a beard. I can also tell that he is a lot older than the 34 years of age that rests on his dating profile. I know, before this afternoon is over, I wouldn't even need to try to be Sherlock Holmes to find more surprises. Since he has a car and he can drive, I suggest we go to a place called Wing Stop because I want him to think that I am a shallow stereotypical person and never speak to me again. To my shock, he misses the intent and says, "is that a bar or something?" I tell him that it's a place for black people to eat wings, because I want him to get angry at me and toss me out of his car. is doesn't work however, and he says, "that's obscured. You mean white people are not al- lowed in? how will you eat there then?" As if this is something we should seriously consider, he ponders the whole way there about the story that we will concoct to get me into the restaurant successfully. I want to die. When we get to the shopping center where it's located, he only looks at one side of the shopping center while I explain that we are in a shopping center and he may need to use his perfect vision to look at, well, other places than just one side of the center. We don't find it however so we travel back to Hubs which is across the street. Even totally blind, I know how to get there because I have walked there so many times I can guide sighted people there. I have to guide Jacob there because he couldn't figure out that, may- be, it would be behind trees as opposed to in front of them. e lunch is just as awkward as I predict. I try to eat as much as I can to keep from conversing. He reveals to me that he's a 53-year-old black man who's really fallen head over heels for me, and that he, in fact, has kids when he said he didn't when we first started talk- ing, and that he thinks that I don't really read books as well as he does because I listen to them, so I skim them, even though almost every audiobook I pick up is unabridged. He explains to me that is the version where they skim for me. Conversation attempts to flow but I feel like I want to leave the restaurant and make my way back home in the middle of his sentences about free speech and how it's dying in this country. I quietly tell him I am a Bernie supporter. He asks me why a clearly smart man such as myself didn't vote for Donald Trump in the 2016 election. I ask him if he knows what irony is. He says that he has many kinds of irons at home. I want to flee so I eat faster. Once we're finished, he leads me back to my apart- ment complex, but not before he grills me about why I don't think Hillary is some evil and cunning wicked thing of the female population. I tell him, calmly, that she's a politician, doing politics. Her activities are no different than any other. She was just dumb enough to think people would understand this. I tell him the truth, that I don't think her emails are worth consid- eration at all. He thinks the hot sauce has killed a few of my brain cells. We finally make it outside. I start to walk down the sidewalk to the corner. He has a bright idea however and rockets across the street with me in toe. I hear cars honking at us as we plow across the street, me swing- ing my cane like it's a white flag that's going to protect me from molten lava beneath my feet. Somehow, we make it to my door where he tries to pull me to his car because he wants to take me for a nice long drive. I plant my feet though and lie about a meeting I need to get to in a few minutes. He asks if he can sit in on the meeting. "I'm sorry." I tell him, sincerely. "it's a meeting on global warming. I don't think you'd enjoy yourself." "Global warming?" he gasps. "I can't take that dear." He kisses me and races to his car, glad to be away from a climate change believer. I can't contain my joy. RESIST! RESIST!

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