Some “friends” are funny. Funny, because they REALLY like you when you’re miserable, lonely, gained weight, are pregnant by Ray Ray or Tyrone, on AFDC, flunking out of school, or have a particularly bad case of herpes.

But get happy, get a man (especially a rainbeau) who is a nice guy, never been to Attica, no kids, college education and a 401K, lose that garbage bag full of fat on your stomach and thighs, say No Wedding No Womb!, get off the county, get serious about your education and find out that herpes was just a misdiagnosis, then something VERY in-ter-est-ing happens to these…”friends.”

I find a certain change happens quite a lot when people venture into interracial or intercultural relationships when it comes to how some of their friends or family handle the news.

A rainbeau starts seeing a black girl, and his buddy makes an off-color (pun intended) remark that his girlfriend must make REALLY GOOD fried chicken and can he pretty-please see her prized watermelons that HE’S SURE she grows in her backyard. On the other end, a black girl starts seeing a rainbeau and her bestie insidiously plants seeds of doubt (he’ll never marry you; he just wants some jungle booty), along with some snide comments about how she could never love another more than a brother.

I saw this video and thought, how apropos–

Listen here. I rarely get preachy-teachy on here, but since I’ve got personal experience with this, I’m going to tell it like it T-I-IS. I don’t care if these people are your relatives, trusted friends, co-workers, please THOROUGHLY examine what might be the motives of these people.

I have a cousin who dated a white guy for a few years (she’s at least a decade older than me). Back when I was dating the hubster, I told her about how I too was testing the swirl waters. Well! She SWORE to me up and down that Mike would NEVER marry me, especially because he came from such a good family, and because her man hid her in the closet, safely snug away from his Jewish parents. After that, she stuck with the brothers.

Fast forward to April 27, 2002, and I see her on the third row of my family’s side of the aisle, bawling her eyes out as I walk down arm and arm with my dad in my wedding dress, while she’s ripe with child by a drug addicted DBR who was locked up in jail.

If you loose a friend because you choose CHARACTER OVER COLOR, then consider it like weeding in your garden of real friends.

AND SO WHAT if you grow watermelons!