Monday, 6 August 2012


Point a camera at a group of sharp-dressed black men and this is will be their
 instinctive reaction. White men? Not so much.

It is almost impossible to spend your best dating years in multicultural Toronto and not learn a thing or two about other cultures.  And one thing I have learned is that there are some striking differences between black men and white men. (Editor's note: We will not be talking about the rumoured "endowment" difference, which may or may not be a phallacy. At least not this time.) 

These differences can take years to uncover, but if you want to fast-track your education, remember this: You can find out everything you need to know about black and white men at a party. 

Go to a black party and the first thing you notice is that everyone dances. A lot. They will have their own DJ and people will start swaying the second the first tune spins. 
You will also notice the men have taken some care with their grooming. They'll have funky things done to their hair, they'll be immaculately shaved, and they will praise each other's style enthusiastically. You'll hear a lot of "Damn, those kicks are sick!!!"
There is food, "cooked food," and I mean there are tables full of it. Fried chicken, jerk chicken, oxtail, rice and peas, gravy, salad, stewed fish, hardbread, trays of lasagna. You'll have a hard time finding a beer, but there will be bottles of liquor ... about two bottles less than there should be, because one of the guests will arrive empty-handed and drink OPB (other people's booze) for the rest of the night. 
There will almost NEVER be a fight, because weed and violence cancel each other out. But if there is a fight, the men, women, even the DJ will intervene and put a stop to it. Before you know it, the scrappers will be hugging each other and saying, "It's cool. I love you, man."

In contrast, I present: The white party. We've all been there. The boys roll in in jeans, T-shirts and ball caps. They will have shaved but they won't expect anyone to comment on that or their outfit, and in fact they'll be a little creeped out if you do. (You: "Hey, nice shirt, Kev, is that new?" Kevin: (recoiling) "What the fuck? You want to see my skivvies too?")
There is either no music or there is very loud AC DC. Which means there is no dancing. 
There are bowls upon bowls of chips, there's a veggie tray, and there's a barbecue loaded with burgers and dogs. But above all, there is beer. There will eventually be a bonfire  in the backyard, and at around 1 a.m., someone  will start drunk-yelling "Woohoooo!
Shortly after that, a fight will break out.
Every man at the party will soon be pummeling someone, and the women will stand on the sidelines and cry.
Eventually the men will get tired and forget what they were fighting about, and before you know it the scrappers will be hugging each other and saying "It's cool. I love you, man."

Editor's note: Maybe they're not that different after all.