White boy sits across from me and looks me up and down, undressing me like a raw chicken
I am absolutely sure he wants to get in my pants.
Then he asks me if I’m a democrat like I was about to ask him where he’s from.
I nod and he says he could tell in the same way someone might tell me
That there’s blood on my pants.
White boy tells me that he’s a republican like he’s manifesting it
And when I tell him that he says he doesn’t believe in astrology.
I text my friends to call me and make up an excuse and white boy tells me I’m being disrespectful.
White boy shovels broccoli into his mouth before declaring that it sucks.
White boy describes himself as a “political person” and asks me about the debate.
White boy boasts that he played a drinking game.
Every time someone said the word “radical” he took a shot.
I want to push his buttons. I tell him I’m radical. He laughs and says no I’m not.
I’m just a girl with pink hair and too many piercings.
White boy has his ears pierced. Low-hanging fruit. I ignore it. Go high.
I tell him I have film class after dinner so I can leave sooner
White boy says have you watched Psycho? and says
I don’t know what I’m talking about because I haven’t
I tell him I’m studying film, not him
White boy wants to go into film scoring, which is “almost the same thing”
(No it’s not)
White boy makes me listen to two of his symphonies before I leave
I ask if he’d like to read one of my stories. He says he doesn’t read.
White boy tells me in between sips of his Coke that he doesn’t know who to vote for.
None of it matters anyways, he says, and they both suck so why not write in his dad?
I feel looked at in the worst way,
A mouse having dinner with a tiger so big it can’t see itself stepping on me.
How can he talk about voting like he’s deciding which vegetable to have with dinner?
It hits me then that I need to stop dating white boys —
Especially a month before the race is called.
White boy doesn’t know what it’s like to watch people voting on his rights
He’s never had to worry about waking up and not being allowed to get married
When I tell him I’m bisexual he said that it doesn’t matter
I think he meant it to be comforting but I felt erased
White boy doesn’t know what it’s like to feel erased
He can walk outside and see another white boy to play pong with
White boy doesn’t respect me and neither have any other men I’ve had dinner with
Or kissed
Or fucked
White boy doesn’t have to respect me in order to gain respect
White boy has to show up and watch the world fall at his feet
White boy doesn’t have to worry about what might happen if the bad guy wins
White boy watches the news like a sport instead of a hunt
White boy marks his ballot with a flick of his red pen
And then he tells me he didn’t even look at the candidates
Because “it’s all a shitshow, anyways”
White boy asks me to go out again. I say no.