A South African man who can’t get over the feeling of dating his white girlfriend, took to Facebook to list the advantages of dating a white lady.
Some of the advantages the South African man identified as Josey Ncube listed cuts across no asking for money, tight punani, no nasty smells and good looking kids. Here’s what he wrote below;
Advantages of dating a white woman
1. No noise
2. No weaves
3. Clean punani
4. No nasty smells
6. No hairy punani
7. Tight punani
8. Good looking kids
12. No asking for money
13. No noise
14. No mthakathi (Witchcraft)
15. No noise
This is coming after a Black woman in her article in Washington post, disclosed how fear and love kept her from dating white men.
Her article reads in part;
I’m a black woman. Two of my best friends are white men. One is named after Nathan Bedford Forrest, a lieutenant general in the Confederate Army. The other is a Southie from Boston. Both are men I would trust to raise and protect my son should the need arise. Men who have protected and supported me through some of the darkest days of my life. Men of character, wit and charisma, alongside whom I have spent some of the best times of my life. Yet, until recently, I did not consider white men as romantic prospects.
Black men, without question. Latin men, for sure. East and South Asians, Persians, Arabs, Native Americans, Polynesians — all options as far as I was concerned. But a white guy? Just not my thing. I might watch Matthew McConaughey and swoon over his roguish grin and molasses drawl. Or wonder whether Justin Timberlake’s prowess on the dance floor translated into, well, other areas. I might even spend an evening charming some former frat bros at the bar for my personal amusement. That is it, though.
Fleeting interest and attention at best. It was not a hard-and-fast rule, as in: I don’t date white guys. It was just there in the back of my mind: I can hang out, work with, live next to and even call white men friends, but I don’t date them.
Then came the night my girlfriend jokingly called me a racist after I rejected a list of possible options, including her brilliant and cute brother, because they just were “not my type,” my longtime code for “melanin-deficient.” We laughed about it. No offense was taken on either side.