Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Where 505025 Doesn't Apply

Kim was this cute black girl in Chicago. I met her while on a short vacation to Chi-town while swing dancing. I was all of 22 years old at the time, had this dinky little convertible with
Wisconsin plates on it. I was having a good time, had a couple drinks in me and since I was 22 was still idealistic and hopeful. I was only in town for a week, but thought, what the heck, I'll ask her out on a date anyway.

Sure enough she said yes.

Of course by this time I was well aware of the Rule of 505025 and didn't really bank on anything, but still headed down to the south side of Chicago, where, sure enough she was there, dressed up very nicely, ready to be picked up. We went out dancing, had a good night, and I drove her back, pastey white kid in a Wisconsin plated convertible to the south side of Chicago late at night. I got some funny looks.

I asked her out on another date where we headed up the shoreline to Winnetka (the complete opposite of south side Chicago) and sure enough she not only agreed, but showed up at the designated time and was ready to go.

A short year later I was in Minneapolis again at a now-defunct joint called "Popeye's." Quite the accomplished swing dancer by now I was accustomed to having more or less 1 in 2 women say yes to a dance with me. But upon entering the club I saw the band. And not only did I see the band, I saw their female vocalist who I would learn later was the charming and enchanting Charmin Michelle.

Not knowing who she was (because she is a rather well-known local celebrity) I immediately asked her to dance with the foolish and idealistic hopes that it would lead to a date. And then one of the most heavenly experiences happened to me;

she shot me down.

But she shot me down in such a heavenly way. She smiled at me, my dumb slobbering 23 year old face and she said, "Oh, thank you so much. I would love to, but I'm dating somebody." She could have said, "you're an ugly, skinny twerp and I'd rather kiss a crocodile with Ebola," and I would have still had the slobbering dog-like face because her voice was just pure velvet. Regardless, her face and smile were so sincere and she let me down so nicely, that getting shot down by her was actually better than having the average girl say "yes" to a dance.

Now the reason I bring this up is that in my life I have not had many romantic escapades with black women. In large part because of the demographics of Minnesota and also in part there are not many black people in the ballroom dance/fossil hunting/economics scene. But the few that I have, have been enjoyable. All of them. I was never stood up, I was never misled or strung along. In every instance it was a pleasant experience (even getting shot down by Charmin Michelle). And I never really noticed this until I saw this chart.




This comes from an online dating service showing "response rates" by different races. It takes a bit to make heads and tails of it, but if you look at the top and go down you see what percent response women of varying ethnicities have to men of different ethnicities and black women have the highest response rate. I'm sure there are other reasons, but it just reminded me that when it came to courting the few black women in my life I have, there were no games. It was the most head-ache free dating experiences I had.

In any case, a hat tip and more in-depth (albeit incredibly politically incorrect) analysis of it here.

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