Doomed Romance: Opposites Attract

This story is a part of The Black Snob's two-week series, "Doomed Romance," tales of love lost and love gone wrong. For more click here. The following is from my journal about the period of time before I married my ex-husband, "Henry." It amazes me how I have all the evidence in the world that he was incompatible in my own writings, yet five months after this was written I married him.

I can still remember him falling asleep at the front table of the Joshua Redman concert and rushing me out in the end when Redman was signing autographs. Then the D'Angelo concert, which he also slept through. I should have listened to my right mind, but as we go along you'll learn that my heart kept getting in the way.

WE HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON

November 1, 2000

One year before my divorce, five months before the marriage

The thing I always hated about my high school one month boyfriend Jeremy was that he wasn't very supportive. Mostly because he was ignorant.

Henry on the other hand is only supportive in the face of adversity. Any other time he's a terrible person to turn to for any support. I don't especially blame him. No one's ever supported him so how would he know how. But sometimes he's so blinded by his "I don't care so why should you attitude" that he becomes completely impossible to talk to.

I imagine that he still hasn't read my email. How I've come to hate talking to him. I can't have a normal conversation with him. Can't talk about politics, he doesn't follow them. Can't talk about film, he'll only talk about the kind he likes and I can't discuss them critically because he accuses me of being like other people who just "diss" things they don't understand. Never mind that I'm a movie buff and studied film in school. Can't talk about history. Can't talk about my job because he seems to hate journalists and he seems to have no interest whatsoever in what I do. He hasn't quite figured out that not asking equates not caring in my book. If he cared about how I spent my time I'd imagine that he'd ask about it.

I hate to think it but sometimes I'm glad we didn't get married. He makes me feel so worthless at times. It's as if the things I enjoy have no value. Like he insists that I pick the movie because he always picks the movie, but when I pick something he never likes it and looks at me like I'm nuts for wanting to watch it. I will watch anything. I just like movies. But our cinematography woes are little. The problem is he doesn't like anything I like. I spend more energy trying to understand his world and he acts like I'm punishing him if he sits through a minute of mine.

He can't be around my family. He can't be around my friends. He can't discuss media or politics or the historical/political ramifications that affect our very lives. He doesn't even vote. He can't learn things with me because he "already knows them." We can't grow together because he's already on a different level. I wanted to marry my equal, not my father. I don't want a teacher and he doesn't understand that. I want a companion. I want to learn things on my own. But something is wrong for me for not wanting him to teach me every damn thing. He got to learn on his own, why the hell can't I? I feel like he spent the last year trying to suffocate me from the world.

Yet I don't want to let him go because I want to be right. I want us to be right. I don't want to think that I put myself and my family through this emotional turmoil for nothing. We went through too damn much, we have to be right for each other. Yet we aren't. And then we are.

I'm tried of transforming my dreams so they will fit with his. He's not trying to change for me. He's not trying to be friendly or engage in a normal conversation with me. Why in the hell am I trying to learn karate? Not because I want to but because it would make him happy and make us closer and then maybe, maybe he would take an art class with me or have dinner with my friends and have it not turn into a complete nightmare. Maybe we could rent a movie that isn't sci-fi, anime, kung-fu or ghetto comedy. He claims to be open minded, yet sometimes he doesn't seem to be at all. The man doesn't even dance. He hates being around people. Even the nice ones.

Damn it. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I wanted to date Allen, my handsome partner in our literature class. Who seemed attracted to me, but was too scared to make a move. Allen, the friend of Henry. The love rays got misdirected and reflected onto an entirely different person. And there's no telling. I could have ended up hating Allen and wondering about his unassuming, quiet friend in the camis.

But the Marine was the one I chose. Maybe I'm making too much of nothing - said the woman stereotypically as usual.

Love is supposed to be frustrating, but I don't think you're supposed to feel worthless every time you open your mouth. Every minute I'm with him I feel it happening. I feel part of me dying. I have to be the extreme version of me to offset him. It makes me miserable and I just want to be happy.

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Doomed Romance: The Comedians

This story is a part of The Black Snob's two-week series, "Doomed Romance," tales of love lost and love gone wrong. For more click here.

Dancing around the issue of romance is tricky enough, but to attempt this feat while being a gay black man, a good fellow can be hard to find. Out latest contributor who wrote "The Comedians," chronicles how race relations almost derailed a happy match.

THE COMEDIANS

Reminiscing on past relationships it is sometimes hard to even fathom that I ended up dating the people I did. Being gay it has always been a difficult choice whether or not to date outside of my race, so after strictly dating within my race and having no luck, I eventually decided that I would go strictly for someone based on their personality, motivation and success (things that I hold highly in my book).

Now enter Eric sophisticated, playful, personable…oh and did I mention he was Jewish?

When it came to looks he was a little more on the average side, but when he approached me at the club one evening, I couldn’t resist falling victim to his sense of humor. In our first meeting we talked for nearly three hours, touching on personal topics such as family, goals and future aspirations. Within three weeks, after about a dozen dates, we were already making ourselves official.

As with all relationships the first two months (we’ve been dating for almost a year) were blissful. Being one of the first people I seriously dated outside of my race, we learned early on to make light of our racial differences. We amused ourselves by telling stories about our "racist” grandparents, and teasing each other about the stereotypes coined by our race. (I.E: My adoration for fried chicken and his tendency to be extremely frugal when it comes to money matters.)

At first, I believed that these free-spirited racial exchanges were things that we could treasure. (Our favorite joke always begins with him telling me to "Get back into the kitchen where you belong," and me replying, "Well, Jews know a lot about ovens!") I knew that not everyone could be as easy-going about interracial relationships as we were, and the fact that we had to courage to joke about it openly, meant that in the long run, race wasn’t going to be an issue.

Then it came, that WWIII disagreement that I thought would end it all. We were discussing black oppression and struggle in America, and I found myself extremely annoyed by the naive and hurtful comments he was making about the black community. Opinions that really left me bruised like, "I think all blacks like to use the race card to their advantage," and "After the holocaust Jews didn’t have anything, but we didn’t depend on the government to support us with welfare."

I was not looking for sympathy for the black community; I just wanted him to understand that things aren’t always as black and white (for lack of a better term) as he perceived them. After this argument, which left me in tears, I began to lose faith in him, and our relationship.

One thing a relationship should bring on many levels is a sense of security. In a world that is not always kind to gay men, and even more so people of color, I needed to know that he could be my support mechanism. About a week after the event transpired I sat down with him and expressed these concerns, outlining that race can be a serious issue, and that we need to actively support each other, not just say it.

Since this discussion, things have gone extremely well. We’re stronger than ever. Whenever we run into a situation of racial tension, we take the time to talk about it, and instead of assuming, we ask questions to get the issue resolved.

And don’t worry, our racial jokes are still a very active and humorous part of our relationship.

Maddow Advances; Oprah, Sick of Self?

Dan Abrams out. Rachel Maddow in. Lord, MSNBC. Why did that take so long? Abrams gave it the old college try and was sometimes not half bad, but every now and then he actually made me miss Joe Scarborough and that's not a good thing.

Sayeth The Huffington Post:

Just in time for the closing rush of the presidential election, MSNBC is shaking up its prime-time programming lineup, removing the long-time host -- and one-time general manager of the network -- Dan Abrams from his 9 p.m. program and replacing him with Rachel Maddow, who has emerged as a favored political commentator for the all-news cable channel.

The moves, which were confirmed by MSNBC executives Tuesday, are expected to be finalized by Wednesday, with Mr. Abrams's last program on Thursday. After MSNBC's extensive coverage of the two political conventions during the next two weeks, Ms. Maddow will begin her program on Sept. 8.

MSNBC is highlighting the date, 9/8/08, connecting it to the start of the Olympics on 8/8/08, as a way to signal what the network's president, Phil Griffin, said "will be the final leg of the political race this year." He added, "We making that Rachel's debut."

Mr. Abrams, who is well liked at MSNBC, is expected to remain at both that network and at NBC News, where he is the chief legal correspondent. He will also serve as an anchor during some of MSNBC's daytime coverage, as well as a substitute host on NBC's "Today" show, Mr. Griffin said.

Maddow is smart, funny and representing herself (and her peeps) nicely. And someone finally convinced her to wear "some" lipstick. I realize lipstick is a superficial thing and Maddow isn't that sort of woman, but this is TV. Even the dudes wear make up. It's part of the uniform. As long as it's subtle and they don't try to doll her up like Dolly Parton she should be cool.

Rock on you crazy liberal.

Also, The New York Post is reporting that the Big "O" -- Oprah Winfrey, not Barack Obama -- is considering stopping her narcissistic reign as the sole cover model of her O Magazine.

But Oprah's peeps are denying any such thing:

Oprah Winfrey is super-busy, so it's no surprise she'd want to delegate her more tedious duties. One source said, "Oprah has told the editors at O magazine she's tired of being on the cover every month. It's a pain. It takes a lot of time and energy and she's sick of it. She's given them six months to figure out what to do without her." Meanwhile, the magazine's newsstand sales are down 17 percent from last year and circulation is down 1.7 percent. A rep for the monthly said, "Oprah Winfrey has appeared on the cover of O . . . since its launch in 2000, and she will continue to do so. In fact, shoots for three upcoming covers will take place in early September."

Her ego is still that huge. She wants, needs to be on the cover, so stop hating if she's so flipping rich she can put herself on the cover of her own mag and sell self-help and diet tips to the world.

In Memoriam

Ohio Congresswoman Stephanie Tubbs Jones died suddenly Wednesday of an aneurysm.

President Bush said Tubbs Jones "was an effective legislator who was dedicated to helping small businesses, improving local schools, expanding job opportunities for Ohioans and ensuring that more of them have access to health care.

"After making history as the first African-American woman elected to Congress from Ohio, the congresswoman worked to expand the rights of all Americans," Bush said.

Tubbs Jones built a reputation in Congress for speaking out. In 2003, she was the only Ohioan in Congress to vote against a resolution supporting U.S. troops in Iraq.

Also now among the dearly departed:

The Shogun of Harlem, Julius Carry III aka "Sho Nuff" of "Berry Gordy's The Last Dragon" has died at 58. This is going around the Web and I haven't heard anything definitive other than MediaTakeOut reported it first.

Either way. You can still kiss his Converse.

Cone-of-Not-Silenced John McCain Bombing Missouri Airwaves

The may come as a surprise to people, but I"m not a big John McCain fan.

I know. I'm shocked too. To think that a mere eight years ago he was being attacked for having Vietnam War PTSD, that his wife was a pill-pooping loony and he had an illegitimate black child. But there he is, beaming at me from my TV.

John McCain: The Thing That Would Not Die.

Not since Bruce Willis has one thing been so recalcitrant to allowing himself to be euthanized like a mangy old dog. By refusing to go away he lingers around, one-to-three points behind Barack in the polls, nipping at his heels.

It isn't pretty to watch, but as the slogan said for our St. Louis Blues' loser hockey team last season, "Whatever it takes." They were going to do whatever it took to win back the fickle fans of St. Louie who really only love the Cardinals and politely tolerate whatever other pro-teams we have right now. They were going to do it, all out, whatever it takes.

That's not how it worked exactly, but John McCain is working with something a little better than what our star-crossed hockey team has been dealing with since their inception in 1967.

So far "Whatever it takes" has come in the form of a political ad bombardment in Missouri, a swing state. I've seen three different versions of the "celebrity" ad and a few other ads that work to convince me that Obama is going to harm my children through punitive tax hikes. If I weren't a close watcher of the news I'd think this Obama fella was some sort of new age cultist with a fawning legion of Obamabots who is really the Antichrist who wants to bring back debtors prisons and lock our little white children away in them into perpetuity or at least until we fork out enough dough to keep us making the Saudis rich for decades to come.

Barack's ads have been aplenty, but none of them are burning their way through my retinas. They lack the kick 'n da balls touch that only MoveOn.org can bring or the jackboot self-righteousness to the Adam's apple of a VoteVets.org ad. I'm not saying Obama needs to truck out the cringeworthy white women clutching their babies saying John McCain can't have them. But this weak tea he's swishing around in the form of "John McCain is distorting my record is not working."

I'm living in "Obama is a secret Muslim-stan" over here.

Look. I'm from Missouri. Born and raised. A state where city folk go from pronouncing the state Misoureee to Missouraaah the minute a statewide election takes place. Where they all, farm boy and city slicker alike, pose next to a tractor/horse/bale of hay/corn field, don some flannel and tell me why the other guy is not "one of us."

When Mel Carnahan ran for governor in the democratic primary back in the 1990s, St. Louis Mayor Vince Schoemehl infamously referred to good ol' boy by Mel as the "Redneck from Rolla."

I don't need to tell you how that election turned out.

The St. Louis and Kansas City may ring in the cash and culture, but it's the rest of the state who elects the government. Quite frankly, there are more of them than us and they know it. In the Democratic primary, Hillary Clinton swept Carnahan land. It took the city of St. Louis to close the deal and win the state for Obama. Ergo, Obama can't keep fighting fire with baby wipes. He needs a strategic strike. Something not as strong as Gen. Wesley Clark's words which were distorted (if being a POW prepared a man negotiating with Vladamir Putin. The guy is a former intelligence officer.) But he can't truck out anything so weak that it leaves no lasting impression.

These people voted for Bush ... TWICE. They aren't going to be swayed by a handshake and a smile. It's time to throw down the gauntlet in Missouri, but McCain, a man with nothing to lose, has been a whirling, nonsensical, political dervish since he was put under new management.

If I may, here are some things the Obama campaign (and their proxies) could do to sling McCain right out of my swing state:

1. How many times can you put a picture of Bush and McCain in an ad? As far as I'm concerned, never enough. Preferably the one with them kissing each other and Maury Povich yelling, "John McCain ... YOU ARE the war's father!" Even in the sticks, Bush isn't particularly popular around here.

2. John McCain is not one of "us." Turn the tables on that. Have them take a long look at the man with the billionairess bride, who lives in finery, who hasn't the faintest clue of what us broke people have to deal with in this economy, his embrace of Bushinomics, where are like Regeanomics, only stupider. Point out the privileged playboy upbringing. That it was his dad who pulled the strings to get him into the academy. Very different from Barack the bootstraps boy, with the single mom, raised by his grandparents who had to ... I don't know ... actually be gifted and talented to succeed. Not just the guy in charge's son.

3. Can't be a maverick if you agree with Bush on everything!

4. Sexist revealed! Stop allowing McCain to insult the women-folk. For any malingerers in the Clinton camp, at the end of the day, Obama has to be the lesser of two evils. McCain couldn't even answer if it was unfair that some health insurance companies covered Viagara, but not birth control.

And I don't know about the other sisters out there doin' it for themselves, but I did not appreciate McCain's team trucking out the two most repellent women ever to compare Obama to. They couldn't throw up Ben Affleck, Andy Dick or Terrell Owens? Brett Farve? Russell Crowe? Justin Timberlake? K. Fed? No. It had to be the women folk. One who is a tragic narcissist who hawks cheap hair weave and hamburgers, and the other who has deep seeded mental issues. Because the only thing stupider than a stupid man is a stupid woman, right? That's why it's funny? Because they're two chicks who don't wear underwear and he's a Harvard Law Grad.

Hardy-har-har.

Then there was the one McCain made at his wife's expense at a biker rally where they hosted a beauty pageant. He joked about getting Cindy McCain to participate, sort of glossing over the fact that this beauty contest was the trashiest thing a bunch of drunk bikers on a summer's day could come up with.

Lord, how many more Botox-injected indignities must that woman face?

5. Lastly, John McCain is pretty much a gaffe machine. Things I expected to blanket the airwaves (Sunni or Shia? To drill or not to drill? My cone of silence came with a crib sheet. MLK needs no holiday. What's slinging the word "gook" around between friends? That whole Keating 5 thing. How I learned to stop worrying and love the Bushes. The economy's just peachy. I got so many houses I can't remember to pay taxes on them all. Pick a gaffe! Any gaffe!)

Policy debates are nice. But for the casual viewer they are boring. And Obama knows it, America knows it -- McCain is a one-trick pony. All he has is the war and the fact that he's the white dude. No one trusts him on any issue but the war. If he picks pro-abortion former Penn. Gov. Tom Ridge as his veep, he will reopen a wound that never really closed for evangelicals.

When the war is going bad, it hurts him. When the war is going well, it hurts him. But the war is all he has. So if he wants to call you unpatriotic, you call him a warmonger. You call him a sexist, duplicitous warmonger who has dropped his maverick status to be Bush's flunky. And you package all that in a clever, funny, but brutal ad. And you play it all the time.

I can see it now. Problems would pop up on the screen -- housing crisis, poverty, healthcare, the thinning out of the middle class, job loss, warmongering, international affairs, terrorism, our crumbling infrastructure and out of the sky would come a hammer slamming down on every problem, shattering it, but still making a mess. And the voice of God would intone, "To a man with a hammer every problem looks like a nail." Showing Iraq and Afghanistan being smashed, but the terrorists remaining. Tag line: It's time to get some new tools.

I'm The Black Snob and I approved this message.

Doomed Romance: The Impasse

The following is an edited version of short story I wrote based on true events while I was living and working Bakersfield, Calif. -- the place I retreated to after my marriage failed. Entitled "And This Season Too Shall Impasse," it discusses the inertia, loneliness and despair I felt in life life as I struggle to comprehend my new life and grapple with a failed glimmer of love and engage in pointless flirtations with a man I was both attracted to yet despised.

This is all part of a two week series on "Doomed Romance," love gone wrong even if it felt so right once upon a time. I will be contributing my own stories along with readers who submitted their own tales of heartbreak. To read previous entries click here.

AND THIS SEASON TOO SHALL IMPASSE

December 29, 2003

Men don’t like to be called beautiful and weren’t taught to appreciate the sensuality and grace of their own bodies. Men were supposed to be a little ugly, even when they were handsome and no one was supposed to really notice. But being a woman was like constantly having a light shining on you and all your flaws.

He was tall and a sandy, golden brown with closely cropped sandy brown to dark brown hair. She thought he was beautiful, he thought it was OK, but previous rejections by women had let him gun shy. The attraction was mutual, but she had to be the pursuer.

He was the one man who seemed to share in her passion, the one she met almost a year ago. Was the one who wouldn’t and couldn’t make love to her. He’d given his heart to the Lord and he wanted a woman who would do the same. Although she could devote herself to him, she couldn’t devote herself to Bible studies three times a week and all-day in church on Sundays. She wasn’t raised in the church. She believed in God, but not in the way that he did. And even though the desire was more real than anything she’d ever known they parted ways and it ended.

He said it was better to end it now before they fell in love with each other, which was where it was obviously heading, very quickly. He knew he would fall in love with her compromising his faith. She was, the goodiest of good girls, but one Bible study and three hours in church on Sunday was all she could take. She didn't want to give up her "secular" music. He was a five-day a week Christian. She was an Easter/Christmas Christian. She didn't want to say good-bye and neither did he, but religion would have become and issues.

For years when retelling the story of their wondrous month-long courtship filled with ridged formality then passionate temptations, black women would admonish her. How could she break up with a man who knew God? What was her problem? She didn't know how to explain it or defend it, so she didn't.

They said they'd remain friends, but they both stayed away. Some men you can be friends with. She couldn't be his friend and he couldn't be hers. They were either going to be lovers or nothing at all. Desire was too strong.

She often wondered why she didn’t go after him or try harder. But she knew it had to be this way. She’d tell herself it would have never worked out. Besides, he was much younger than her. Still, the fact could not escape her that he could kiss so sinfully, while touching and caressing her head and face. It amazed her. He kept his hands far from her erogenous zones, so all he could tempt and persuade her with were the lips and his lips were so skilled that if he’d been so inclined to press further she would not have stopped him.

She’d never wanted any man so much in her life.

And he was so beautiful. And he made her feel beautiful even if it wasn’t true.

She would cook him such beautiful dinners and they would have such good conversation. And he was so sweet and romantic. He could sing in a lovely, velvety baritone. They could sing Nat King Cole together, talk Sci-fi and politics. She could barely remember how they met. She couldn’t remember their first date. She couldn’t remember their first kiss, but she remembered all the others.

So sitting watching movies and feeling sad over her beautiful boy and feeling fat and like a troll she thought about what the rest of her life would be like. Would every day be like the one before? Her living out this life sentence for a marriage she terminated after a matter of months? Would she die wanting? Would she ever take another lover, another friend, another husband? Would she ever meet anyone? Would she ever feel that way again? Would she live in this place of impasse for all time, nothing changing? She needed for something to happen, anything, but she didn’t have the strength anymore to make it so. And although she didn’t like the term she wanted to be rescued. Anyone would do.

And so tears, round and fat, fell down her cheeks and she stared at her ashy feet and said, “We’re a sorry state. It’s just you and me.”

She didn’t want to feel different. She just wanted to feel like herself again. But she’d gone and ruined herself, she couldn’t feel that way again. But could she feel a new way that was just as satisfying? Could she feel in a way that would make her get up and do something with her life? Could she feel in a way that wasn’t ruined? And could she feel hope again?

So much to ride on a little bottle of little blue pills promising miracles. And the doctor said it could make it all better. And so she thought of her beautiful boy and how she reached out to him when she was in need and how he seemed to sense it and know just what to do. He knew just what to say.

“I’ve never known anyone like you before,” he’d say kissing her eyes. “I thought I was the only one.”

Oh No, Joe!

As veep speculation is running wild a lot (and I mean A LOT) of reporters and pundits have been pushing the idea that Sen. Joe Biden may be "The One." Sure, there still a lot of talk about Indiana Sen. Evan Byah, but lately its been Joe, Joe and more Joe.

The CNN is all "twitterpated" over the prospect of a Obama/Biden mashup.

In a week where vice-presidential speculation has reached a feverish pitch, Barack Obama gave tea-leaf readers another reason to suspect he will name fellow Sen. Joe Biden his running mate later this week.

Speaking to veterans in Orlando, Florida, Obama specifically called out the Delaware senator and former presidential candidate, calling him a 'friend' and saying he agreed with Biden's call for U.S. assistance to Georgia.

"We must help Georgia rebuild what has been destroyed," Obama said during a speech at the Veterans of Foreign Wars national convention. "That is why I’m proud to join my friend, Senator Joe Biden, in calling for an additional $1 billion in reconstruction assistance for the people of Georgia."

It was only a passing reference to the longtime senator, but it comes one day after Biden returned from a trip to Georgia at the behest of that country's president — a stark reminder of his national security gravitas and deep-rooted relationships with leaders around the world. As the Georgia crisis once again puts national security issues front-and-center in voters' minds, so the Beltway chatter goes, Obama needs a running-mate with foreign policy experience now more than ever.

CNN sez Obama also gave Virginia Sen. Jim Webb a shout-out, but who cares about that! This is about Biden, dammit. Biden is "The One."

I have mixed feelings about Biden. Other than his "articulate" faux pas (which quite frankly had more to do with his own ignorance about than anything), I don't really have a problem with the guy. He's excellent as a attack dog. No one rocks a pithy put down slam like Biden. But Biden is also notorious for speaking truth to power a little too frequently. There's a danger in a guy who truly is a "straight shooter," unlike McCain. Biden just says whatever is on his mind, for good and for nightmarishly bad.

Also, I don't know what Biden brings to the ticket. Yeah, he's got foreign policy cred, but so do a lot of aspiring veeps. Why not Sen. Chris Dodd, who is a stand-up guy and was willing to throw down over telecomm immunity even if it was going to be a one-man filibuster?

Mama Snob isn't a big Biden fan, so when I read her the CNN article she loudly announced, "He might as well pick Hillary!"

Papa Snob is also shaking his head, worrying on Obama veep picks.

I don't know if there's any person more worried about Obama's campaign than Papa Snob. He's a pessimist who wants to be an optimist but has lived too long to believe in that anymore. He's come to the conclusion that the only person who can help Obama pull in recalcitrant Democrats and a spare Rust Belt or Southern state is Hillary. He thinks this is a JFK/LBJ situation, where loathed rivals have to work together to win. He believes that with Hillary, Barack could pick up Arkansas, Ohio, Pennsylvania and even Virginia.

The only problem is ... that's not going to happen. There's too much animosity amongst the supporters. I'd fear there'd be some massive revolt if that came to pass. The Obama people hate the Hillary people. The Hillary people hate the Obama people. I'm a believer in political expediency (anything to win!) but others? Eh ... not so much. Then there's the whole issue of both Clintons being such lightening rods and could potential obscure Barack's campaign. The media and the Republicans crave their Clinton Crack. They are fiends. There's nothing they'd love more than the former Dream Team now Nightmare ticket.

I still like Sen. Jim Webb, although he concerns me at times because he's a former Republican and is interesting and talented enough to possibly compete with Obama for attention. Obama doesn't need another attention whore. Biden, at least, wouldn't be that.

Doomed Romance: The Drifters

"Foolish Love," Rufus Wainwright

This story is a part of The Black Snob's two-week series, "Doomed Romance," tales of love lost and love gone wrong. Aug. 19 we examined just the beginning of my own doomed relationship with my ex-husband.

Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but it can also cause the heart to wander. Our first contributor to "Doomed Romance," The Drifter, found love but let it go. Maybe it was too far, too fast, too soon. But as they gave each other space to work out their apprehensions they pushed their love right out of the picture.

THE DRIFTERS

I will admit that my romance with a US Peace Corps volunteer was doomed. We met in the West Indies, me a teacher, and him working with the corps. We dated for a while. I was black, he was white, and although he was the second white man I dallied with, he was the first man with whom I fell in love with.

Dating him was a trip, because "H" really made me laugh just by being. He liked Ernest Shackleton, believed that optimism was the greatest moral courage, liked short stories and yo-yos. H was a great guy, but we thought we were getting serious too quickly, so we took a step back, and another and another... and ended the relationship, no hard feelings. I'd say that H has taught me that love is love, race and culture be damned.

Even though he was from Riverside, Calif. and I hailed from Kingston, Jamaica, we bonded over bad jokes, sibling rivalries, living through bad parental marriages and ska. Being with him, I learned that in order to make a relationship work, you have to throw your heart into it, and not to hold everything back. I stepped back because I was scared that H would thwart my future plans, because I'd throw away everything to be with him. I think H was frightened that we were moving so far so fast, and he needed to breathe. Whatever it was - we both saw the escape route and grabbed at it - something that I've regretted ever since.

When H and I were drifting apart, and trying to get the strength to break off the relationship, I met (my now) husband, "W." W liked me from the get go, he really did, but I was truthful and told him that I was trying to reconcile my feelings with someone else. W allowed me the space to do so, to let H go, to sit down and decide if I wanted a relationship with him so soon after my relationship with H broke down.

Long story short, we got married and we are happy eight years later.

But sometimes, I will admit, that when I see a man of H's height (6 ft) colouring (reddish-blonde hair and blue eyes), I do pause. Just a bit, then I nod to myself and remember him and that year - for a moment. It happens less and less now as I get older, but I'll never forget H. My relationship right now, is one that I've decided to stick through for better or worse (within reason!), because love requires you to be brave and to commit.