For those who don’t know, the “good black man,” the ideal man that a black woman is supposed to want to marry actually exists. I know, I have one for a brother. The purple unicorn was driven practically from the womb. And I DO mean driven. He was determined not to take the road so many of his friends had: straight to the corners and eventually to jail for one reason or another. But rather, find a job that pays and would eventually provide him with a well-to-do middle-class lifestyle.

To say he is different from the average young black man his age would be an understatement. How many do you know wear a suit and tie to work everyday and dress up even when they aren’t working? How many do you know are so tight with their money that the family has actually had to differentiate what the term “broke” means when applying it to that person because they’re so careful about their money? How many have shot to near the top of their company after only being employed by them a couple of years? By the way, he pretty much laughs at the idea of there being a “conspiracy” to hire black women over black men and how brothas are being held down. He is someone who understood the meaning of the word connections all his life, and that the more you have, the further you go.

As a person, he is honest, respectful of women and girls, loves his family, is highly intelligent (as a kid, he would pull random items from around the house MacGyver style and make light bulbs and fans because it amused him. And he was doing it before officially learning how to do so in science class) and is the only black guy I know dedicated to learning how to speak Mandarin Chinese. That was thanks in part to a former girlfriend.

My brother has always been open in terms of dating interracially, but he once upon a time had hoped to find his ideal black woman. Two DBR black women later, he’s decided to put off dating “for awhile.” For now he wants to continue to establish himself, and I’m confident that when he does start dating again, he’ll be able to provide a very comfortable lifestyle for himself and whomever he eventually partners with. And he has admitted that he’s no longer fixated on an ideal black woman, and just finding the right woman for him and will be expanding his options ethnically speaking.

And I encourage him in that regard. It would be hypocritical of me to say, “NOOOOO, THE PERFECT BLACK WOMAN IS OUT THERE FOR YOOOOOOOOU!” knowing full well that for the most part, I’m not even physically attracted to most black men, never mind mental, emotional, and social compatibility. A person cannot and should not limit themselves regarding love. How many black women have had bad experiences with black men and decided to date out, and wound up with their ideal mate? They wouldn’t have been able to do so if they’d stuck to the “there’s a good black man for me, don’t look elsewhere!” mantra.

Black men don’t heed that “black love” talk. You know it, I know it, and deep down the NBAB crowd knows it as well. They can grumble, holler, and stomp their feet all day long. But that won’t make black men dry up their well of dating options and “come home.” That goes for good black men as well. So, while I know they exist, I also know that odds are philosophies or experiences may make it so they aren’t checking for black women specifically. And even if they were, nowhere is it written I need to surrender my desire to date and eventually marry interracially. Simply because, “a good black man noticed me!” Whether it’s an actual good black man or the Good Black Man (TM) that’s really a scrub underneath it all. Sensible women and men look for attributes that go deeper than the skin tone, and when they have found that in a person, will make him or her their own.

Many black women who elect to date and marry out know of decent black men, or even purple unicorns. They may have been raised by them, had them for siblings, or are best friends with one. But still, our options remain open. Why? Because we have the good sense to know that there is more to life than chasing legendary-bordering-on-mythical beings. Or (surprise!) maybe because we don’t want a purple unicorn and never wanted one to begin with.