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I Found My Boyfriend...Then My Life Fell Apart
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I Found My Boyfriend...Then My Life Fell Apart

The ugly truth Black queer culture never tells you about finding a man and keeping him.

He asked me to be his boyfriend.

We’d been dating for months now. First dates that led to second dates. Second dates that led to sleep overs. Sleep overs that led to unplanned bae-cations. Our honeymoon phase reached a fevered pitch and now it was time to take our first “official” step along our journey together.

Most of the dating phase among Black men is had in secret. Me and him gestating. Understanding what makes each other smile, or triggers us, or makes us think. Black culture isn’t particularly sensitive to a burgeoning Black gay love story. So most of us assume that the first steps in dating are best kept between the two (or more) involved and no one else


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Then you make the big jump. Years ago it would be FBO: Facebook Official…but who uses Facebook still? Now it’s some hashtag like “bae goals”, or “Black Boy Joy”, or whatever social media steeped one-liner we use to convey what we hope exists between our partner and us.

But making the big leap into official waters is much bigger than titles we give it inside the bubble. There is a whole culture of men who, if we’re not prepared, are hell-bent on compromising our love story. It’s not right. It’s not okay. But, if you’re prepared, you two will make it anyway.


Lazy Men

The hardest part of telling the world (and by world we mean that one loud-mouthed butch queen) that you’re dating is that every man that wanted to shoot his shot but didn’t will come creeping out the wood work.

About a week into a relationship I one was in, my partner at the time and I were leaving church. He was a very attractive man—because I have very good taste. He was mysterious and subtle so, of course, he drew the eyes of many men. We were making small talk in the vestibule when the guy we were conversing with noticed us standing closer than friends, but far enough to be appropriate for church.


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Immediately following the service, my guy-at-the-time got a text from him. “Are you and Jai dating?” Neither my guy nor I knew how to respond. Yes, we were in fact dating, but we hadn’t pondered if or how we’d start telling people. While my guy-at-the-time mulled over his response to that text. I got one very similar, followed by another.

Guys that casually flirted or, even less, were just tangentially connected to him and me started texting and calling. Some very veiled attempts at finding out my or his dating status. Others more overt. But all of them prompted by one queen finding out about us dating.

Had we not prepared ourselves for the ire of the lazy men, the flow of texters and callers would be ground for suspicion. But we knew better. I knew my guy-at-the-time was attractive and out-of-the way, so he’d be the target of attraction from men far and wide. He felt the same about me so we braced ourselves.



Eww, David.

No less than two weeks later, I was out to my local Sunday Funday spot when a man walks up to me. I host Dear Black Gay Men Podcast so men walking up to me in gay spaces is not uncommon. He extends his hand, leans in much too close to be appropriate for a first-time encounter, and says in my ear “congratulations on your new relationship.”

This relationship hadn’t been the topic of podcast conversation. There were no Insta-stories or carousels on the grid to be seen. As far as I knew, this relationship was fresh and untold, yet, because of the chance encounter that one day at church, I assume, now the whole world knew.

This very moment, I realized David Rose’s frustration when all of Schitt’s Creek knew his engagement news long before he wanted them to.

When gay men get a hold of tea, our reflex—albeit our instinctual behavior—is to share it. Share with a close friend or a bitch in the street, we spills tea. So when the news of my relationship at the time broke, it was all but inevitable that people whom I knew and didn’t know all of a sudden had information about me.

Guy-at-the-time and I may have shared disconnected details here and there, yet culture somehow weaves it together to create a full tapestry of our relationship. Being under the public eye could trigger insecurities in new Black queer love. But again, bracing yourself for what will happen allows each of us to sidestep the foolishness.


Listen to the full episode above and let me know what are other pitfalls that come from expressing a new queer love?

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