I Cannot Accept Your Friend Request



Dear Former Roommate,

I regretfully must inform you that I cannot accept your FB friend request. It's been quite some time since we've been in contact; I think you moved out almost immediately following graduation in 2005. In the past 9 years, I have thought about you possibly 6 times, not including when I tell my crazy racist roommate in New York story to new friends. I've wondered what happened to you and as quickly as you popped into my head, you disappeared. I'm not sure why you've turned up now, as I've only been on FB for about 7 years, but here we are. 

I feel some kind of way. 

Your request transported me back to our first semester living together. Prior to us moving in, we talked on the phone. I knew you were a little young, but thought it should be able to work. I'm easy to get along with and relatively clean. I was pretty sure that you thought I was white. It's okay, I'd heard that before. While I knew you'd probably be surprised to find that I was a black woman, I figured since we were going to social work school, you'd been exposed to a little bit of diversity.

Never make assumptions.

That was a valuable lesson learned that lesson when I realized you had locked your bedroom door those first few days we started living together. I'm pretty sure I left petty thief off my application, but somehow you must have figured out my plan to sneak in your room and wear your clothes. Just because I'm college educated and enrolled to go to grad school doesn't mean I don't steal stuff. Especially from a roommate...who I will be living with for 2 years...who can see if I had your stuff. It couldn't be because I'm black, right? I get it, I'm a stranger! Stranger danger!

We did, for the most part get along. Although there were some differences in the way we chose to keep our spaces, it seemed like things were fine. We even hung out together sometimes. However, it all came to a head one night when a group of us (including 2 of my childhood friends who also lived in NY) went to dinner. You were being rude and when we got home, I confronted you about it. What started as a conversation about your stank attitude became a declaration of feeling excluded. Unfortunately, it was your choice of words that prohibited any possibility of future inclusion.

"Am I not cool enough or black enough or ghetto enough to hang out with you and your friends?"

Remember that time when both of my childhood friends were white?

I learned several things about you that night. 1. You were racist. (I was later informed that you told my friend that your heart sank when you saw that I was black. Did you really think she wouldn't tell me?) You were so quick to determine that your exclusion was based on race that you failed to pay attention to exactly who I was hanging out with which leads to...2. Incredibly out of touch with reality. The diversity in the group of my friends you met from home and from school truly resembled a Benetton commercial. 3. You made it clear that in our school's desperation to finish the new building meant that they were not very discerning about who they admitted into the program. 4. You were lucky that I didn't punch you in your throat.

Was this the first time I'd ever dealt with ignorance and racism? Of course not. I've only been black in America my whole life. Fortunately, up until that point, I never had to live with it in my house. Home is supposed to be a sanctuary and that first semester, my sanctuary was ruined. My stomach hurt and this sense of dread and fatigue would wash over me as I got closer, knowing that I might have to see you. I am grateful that your family lived in New Jersey and you would go home on the weekends. Sweet respite.

Eventually, I "got over it", at least enough to extend a non-ghetto olive branch. We never really discussed what happened and the level of friendliness never returned to what it once was. Once we no longer lived together, I was happy to leave you in my past, to only dust you off when I tell my crazy NY roommate stories. And now you're here in my FB friend queue (where you will reside for the rest of eternity), stirring up old memories that are surprisingly still painful.

I can only hope that over these past 9 years you've grown and had enough life experience to understand the impact of your ignorance and are different. While time may heal old wounds, mine haven't fully healed yet. With that being said, I regretfully must inform you that I cannot accept your FB friend request.

And just to be clear...you will never be cool enough, black enough or ghetto enough to be my friend.

Invested in the Outcome

The attraction was obvious. It was clear that something was going to happen between me and dude; he was so happy to see me and made it a point to get my number. We went out on dates, he brought me flowers and grits (women can be won over through their bellies too). We held hands and kissed on New Year's Eve. It was pretty intense; we were inseparable...for all of 6 weeks. Just as abruptly as it started, it ended.

I added that for dramatic flair.

In all honesty, there were subtle shifts in his behavior toward the end. I could feel it and was trying very hard to ignore it. After all these years of being single (or really in an "it's complicated" Facebook relationship status situationship), I was about to have me a gottdam, bonafide, real deal Holyfield boyfriend. And he was not going to get in the way! Unfortunately, that's not how things work. It's so weird - you can't have a boyfriend who's unwilling to be your boyfriend. When things seemed to be getting serious, he backed out, leaving me devastated and alone.

Except I wasn't really devastated. Instead, I was pissed. I felt misled; if you walk like a duck and talk like a duck, why would I think you're actually a kangaroo? Based on his behavior, I believed that we were headed toward couplehood. But more importantly, he had ruined my plans for no longer being single. I could leave Sexy Heroin alone because I had a boo to occupy that space in my heart. I would have someone to hold my hand as we walked down the street so the whole world would know that I have a boyfriend. I could tell stories that started with "Me and my boyfriend..." All of which are the wrong reasons to be in a relationship with someone.

As evidenced by the lack of devastation, in hindsight, it seemed clear that although he was a good guy, he wasn't the right one for me. If I had taken my time to get to know him (hello 90-day probationary period), I may have discovered that rather than being shocked by it. I was overly invested in the outcome; I wanted to have a boyfriend, period. And while it wasn't a conscious, any-guy-will-do decision, I let my objective get in the way of my objectivity, prohibiting me from making a thoughtful choice. It has been a hard lesson learned; it's just now truly sunken in.

This does not only apply to dating; there are many arenas in our life where this may occur. How many times have you applied for a job, imagining the life you'll have once you get that much better paycheck, only to never even receive an interview? (Or you get to the 4th interview after interviewing with 20,348 future coworkers over the span of 2 months, only to learn that they gave it to someone else? I'm not bitter...anymore.) How often do we make decisions based on what we think will happen instead of doing something for the sake of the experience?

It's hard to change that kind of thinking. I think most of us would like a crystal ball that shows us what will happen in the future so we may sleep a little easier at night. We all want to be safe and to know that things will work out the way we want them to. Unfortunately, life is not like that; we have all kinds of experiences, positive and negative, that there's no way we could have planned. Some of them we would have avoided at all costs! However, those are the experiences that shape who we are and who we become.

Besides, do you really want a crystal ball? Those things get dirty so quickly and they are a pain in the ass to keep clean!