Ever since I can remember, I've had a type: tall, dark, and quirky.
But the moment I turned 25, the vacancy I felt in my love life began to Cupid Shuffle all over my heart. You see, I've never had a boyfriend, like ever. I was close once and sure, he had all the fixings of what I thought I wanted at the time, but the official title never came. Age has a funny way of forcing us into deep reflection and whew chile… I had to come face to face with the fact that I was possibly the cause of my own existential crisis: could having a "type" be keeping me single?
I knew this was something worth further inspection after a talk I had with my sister. I was telling her about a guy that had slide in my DMs who – judging by his IG profile – just didn't fit the bill for someone I would give time to. After I shared my findings with her, she casually says, "Aley, you're too picky."
I was shook.
How could this be? Even with my physical preferences in mind, I had always considered myself to be someone who was "equal opportunity."
It wasn't until after this series of unsuccessful dating attempts that I really started to stick to my guns about staying true to my type. After all, what's so bad about liking what I like?
I blame college for what is now my fairly obscure perspective of "the perfect guy." Back then, if you had a certain type of that you habitually leaned towards, there were about 8 of them on campus that you could choose from and if they weren't to your liking, there was always another campus not too far away with about 10 more. And even then, my "pickiness" took a backseat.
In fact, while attending an HBCU, I still managed to dip my toe in the snow. My first time dating outside my race was two years into my matriculation and just a year shy from my full conscious awakening. He sought me out via social media and excuse my then internalized anti-blackness but it felt good to be chosen by the oppressor. He was one of those redhead white guys with a sense of style that would remind you of a British R&B singer and I was smitten.
I mean the boy had swag and talked a heavy game, might I add. My time with him, although brief, was one of the most fulfilling dating experiences I have ever had. He saw me as his African princess, minus the all the weird fetishization. But my Colonizing King turned out to be a flake and on our first Valentine's Day together, he left me at the altar of my dorm room steps, taking my Happily Ever After along with him.
In an attempt to suppress my desires for my ideal tall, dark, and quirky archetype, I dated a pill-popping Papi from the Bronx, a classmate with height hindrances and hidden insecurities, and oh, how could I forget my long-distance lover with an even longer rap sheet with loose women? Still, as long as the guy was respectful, intelligent, and could make me laugh, I could always just pray that he'd have an overnight growth spurt or that he'd have a spontaneous "Come to Jesus" moment.
Truth be told, I always felt like dating outside of my type placed me in a unique position.
As if because I stayed open to the variety of packages that love could come in, no matter the race, religion, height or creed, if all else failed, I could always say, "Well, at least I tried." As I navigate my mid-20's, I fully recognize the societal pressures that come with being a young, educated, career-focused Black woman to find love while being "reasonable;" to keep my options open without compromising.
There's enough propaganda floating around about all the good Black men being in jail or having their hand at the Beckys and Sarah Annes of world to fool you into believing that your dreams of a Black Love fairy tale are just that: a fable. But I'm just crazy enough to believe that there's a king out there that will meet and exceed your expectations and you won't have to share him or put money on his books every week.
At this point in my life, I don't think I'll be budging when it comes to sticking to my type. I've tried my hand at pretty much every type of guy there is and if the desires of my heart haven't shifted in another direction yet, then I doubt they'll be going anywhere anytime soon.
Call me naive or applaud my resilience but my Black Love is worth fighting for.
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While speaking to xoNecole, Eva shares that she’s a lot like the beloved 1994 character in many ways. “Lyric is so me. She's the odd flower. A flower nonetheless, but definitely not a peony,” she tells us.
“She's not the average flower you see presented, and so she reminds me of myself. I'm a sunflower, beautiful, but different. And what I loved about her character then, and even more so now, is that she was very sure of herself.
"Sure of what she wanted in life and okay to sacrifice her moments right now, to get what she knew she deserved later. And that is me. I'm not an instant gratification kind of a person. I am a long game. I'm not a sprinter, I'm a marathon.
America first fell in love with Eva when she graced our screens on cycle 3 of America’s Next Top Model in 2004, which she emerged as the winner. Since then, she's ventured into different avenues, from acting on various TV series like House of Payne to starring on Real Housewives of Atlanta.
Je-Caryous Johnson Entertainment
Eva praises her castmates and the play’s producer, Je’Caryous for her positive experience. “You know what? Je’Caryous fuels my audacity car daily, ‘cause I consider myself an extremely audacious woman, and I believe in what I know, even if no one else knows it, because God gave it to me. So I know what I know. That is who Je’Caryous is.”
But the mom of three isn’t the only one in the family who enjoys acting. Eva reveals her daughter Marley has also caught the acting bug.
“It is the most adorable thing you can ever see. She’s got a part in her school play. She's in her chorus, and she loves it,” she says. “I don't know if she loves it, because it's like, mommy does it, so maybe I should do it, but there is something about her.”
Overall, Eva hopes that her contribution to the role and the play as a whole serves as motivation for others to reach for the stars.
“I want them to walk out with hope. I want them to re-vision their dreams. Whatever they were. Whatever they are. To re-see them and then have that thing inside of them say, ‘You know what? I'm going to do that. Whatever dream you put on the back burner, go pick it up.
"Whatever dream you've accomplished, make a new dream, but continue to reach for the stars. Continue to reach for what is beyond what people say we can do, especially as [a] Black collective but especially as Black women. When it comes to us and who we are and what we accept and what we're worth, it's not about having seen it before. It's about knowing that I deserve it.”
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
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Fortunately, five simple words have simplified my dating process and ushered in clarity faster: “Would my husband do this?”
A couple of years ago, I met an entertainment lawyer who was tonguing down a twenty-something-year-old woman for breakfast while I slurped my green smoothie and chomped on a flatbread sandwich. Okay, Black love, I grinned and thought as I sauntered out of the Joe & The Juice. As soon as I stepped down from the front door, a torrential downpour of Miami summer rain cascaded and throttled me back inside to wait out the storm.
I grabbed a hot green tea and vacillated between peering out the wet door and anxiously checking my watch. My lengthy agenda started with attending the Tabitha Brown and Chance Brown’s “Black Love” panel, and I was already late. That’s when the lawyer introduced himself to me, after he made a joke about neither one of us wanting to get soaked by the rain. His female companion had braved the storm, leaving us to find our commonalities.
We both lived in L.A. and had traveled to the American Black Film Festival to expand our network. He represented various artists, including entertainment writers, while I was working as a writer/creative producer in Hollywood.
While there is no shortage of internet advice on how to strategically meet a prominent man at conferences, if I spend my hard-earned funds on career growth, I have tunnel vision, and that doesn’t include finding Mr. Right. So, I stowed his contact details away as strictly professional.
Keep It Cute Love And Hip Hop GIFGiphyAs the humidity and mosquitoes were rising around L.A., two months later, another suitor-turned-terrible match cooled off after three unimpressive dates and a bevy of red flags. I posted what some of my friends called a thirst trap, but it was really me wearing a black freakum jumpsuit with a plunging neckline to my friend’s 35th birthday soiree despite feeling oh, so unsexy and bloated on my cycle.
I’d been waiting to post a sassy caption and finally had the perfect picture to match: “You not asking for too much, you just asking the wrong MF.”
That’s when the entertainment lawyer swooped into my DMs and asked me to dinner. I was quite confused. Is he asking me on a date? Or is this professional? Common sense would’ve picked the former. Once it clicked that this would in fact be a date, I told my mentor, who’s been happily married for over twenty years and has often been a guiding light and has steered me away from the wrong men.
Upon telling him about how we met, he emphatically stated, “He ain’t it.” He followed up with a simple question, "You have to ask yourself: Would my husband do this? Would you tell others that you met your husband, tonguing down another woman, and later married him?"
Aint It No Way GIF by UFCGiphyOuch. The thought-provoking question cleared any haze. Prior to going out with the lawyer, the first thing I inquired about was the woman.
“You saw that?” He said, taken aback that I’d witnessed his steamy PDA. Surely, anyone with two open eyes peeped him caressing her backside as he kissed her in the middle of the coffee shop.
He brushed her off as a casual someone he’d gone on a couple of dates with but had since stopped talking to. He said he hadn’t been in a serious relationship in over three years. Though I was still doubtful, dating in L.A. is treacherous and ephemeral. Making it past three months is considered a rarity.
With my antennae alert, I dined with him at a cozy beachside steakhouse restaurant where we were serenaded by a live jazz band. I’d emphasized forming a platonic friendship first.
Break Up Friendship GIF by TLCGiphy“I’ll come to you,” he obliged. I liked that he had made me a priority by driving over 50 miles to see me. I also liked the effort he made to check in with me daily. But I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he initiated on a professional pretense and then alley hooped through the back door on a romantic venture, which bombarded me with confusion.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my dating life, God is not the author of confusion; any man who brings confusion, rather than clarity, is simply not The One. It doesn’t matter how many boxes he checks–eventually, that confusion will manifest itself into bigger problems, in time.
After diving into deeper conversations on the phone, post our first dinner date, I quickly realized this man was indeed not The One for me. But I’m grateful for the valuable lesson I learned.
I don’t expect some unattainable fairytale of a husband; we all have our own flaws and conflict is inevitable, but after dating for two decades, through failure and success, I’ve realized that the person I ultimately marry must mirror the values I exert into the world. He must reciprocate kindness, patience, and respect. He must be quick to listen and slow to respond. He needs to be forgiving and trustworthy, practice healthy communication, and be a man of his word at the bare minimum.
If I’d had “Would my husband do this?” in my toolbox when I was dating and floundering in stagnant relationships, in my twenties, it would’ve saved me a lot of precious time. But now that I’m equipped with the reminder, it’s allowed me to ground myself in my non-negotiables and set/maintain the standard for the special person, I’ll one day say, “I do,” to.
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