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After a week or two of texting, we met in person at a café.
Close-cropped, wavy strawberry blond hair framed a face that made me second-guess his age and whether or not I could go through with whatever was about to happen. He was the age he said he was, which was old enough to drink, but the double-digit age gap between us still left me wary.
One guy even referred to me as an "ebony girl," as if I belonged in a tag on a porn site.
I largely ignored the men asking me to dominate them, which happened as frequently as every third or fourth message, but they did make me wonder: Were these men simply casting out a large net in hopes of catching anyone, or was there something about me that served as a beacon to white male submissives? As I headed into my late thirties, though, I thought of all the opportunities of sexual exploration I'd been denied because it may have interfered with an ex's "manhood," or because of my own lack of confidence.
He said white women his age were vapid and frequently dismissed him because of his youthful appearance.
Because of his age and appearance, I didn't feel threatened by his ignorance, even though his desire for a Strong Black Woman to take control of him sexually was an echo of other messages I'd received via Ok Cupid.
So when I received a message from a white man in his early twenties asking if I wanted deep conversation or a sub, I decided to say "fuck it" and go for it.
After a few messages, I gave him my Google Voice number and we began texting.
He liked the maturity of black women and how we don't put up with a lot of bullshit.In my mind, I started to call him Baby Sub because it became clear he, too, was exploring, but I made him call me ma'am or Miss _______ (a name I won't reveal here).