I can’t get no love in New York City I just simply talk to young ladies and that’s it. I don’t know if it’s because it’s in a bar scene or what.

I talked to Kelly and Amber at Justin’s last Tuesday night. I noticed Amber the moment she walked by me. Her face, the face of a beautiful black woman, had me as soon as I layed eyes on her. Notice, I said face. A beautiful calm face she had. Her hair, dark black; lips, full and wide; she had the face of a woman I wanted to love, to be my wife. Her face told me, “I may have graduated from college. I definitely have a job. I am too beautiful not to have a boyfriend so don’t even ask the question. Though I understand the plight of the ghetto and black people, and I love my black peoples; especially those who are from the ghetto and act like it (forgive them, for they know not what they do). I choose to carry myself in a classier manner. But I am black, will never forget where I came from, where I have been, and I know where I am going.” Her face told me all of this.

Her face, not her ass, not her tidies, but her face; her face even told me that her favorite movie was The Color Purple. Knawl, she told that on this night that I am writing this. I thought she was such a beautiful young lady that once I got the chance to speak with her and her friend, and I asked her name, I stored it into my hard drive memory along with her beautiful face.

Amber is the name. I saw Amber and her friend on this night after I had spoken with them last week. Amber’s friend recognized me and waved and I smiled and waved back. They started walking toward my way with Amber in the lead position. She looked right through me as if I wasn’t there. I spoke, “how are you doin’ Amber?” I shook her hand. Her friend remarks, “that’s good, now what’s my name?” I shrugged my shoulders with a smile on my face to let her know that I couldn’t remember her name. I did remember her telling me that she graduated from Duke, which I mentioned to her a little later in another conversation.

I got out of both of them that they have boyfriends. I asked Amber in a desperate move to try and expand our conversation, “so Amber, if you didn’t have a boyfriend I’d be the perfect gentleman for you right?” She said, “I don’t know because I don’t know anything about you.” I told her to ask me something, which she asked what was my favorite movie? I told her I couldn’t name a favorite movie but I like drama. She told me her favorite movie was The Color Purple. I told her that was a good one. I then asked why did she liked that movie so much? She either didn’t hear me or ignored the question, as her friend Kelly and she began to make motions toward the other side of the room or just the hell away from me.

Now here it is, me, I have met a beautiful young lady, a college graduate, a third grade teacher who teaches in Harlem, who is from New Jersey, who’s name is Amber. But yee who has said you can’t meet a beautiful intelligent, bride to be at a bar, oh, yee are so wrong. Amber has damn near everything I am looking for. For who has ever said you can’t meet a beautiful intelligent young man at a bar, yee are also to the left, the opposite of right. But if you ask Amber who or what has she met in me, she would tell you that she doesn’t recall who I am, or that she doesn’t know anything but a guy from Justin’s.

This leaves me the question of, “what are black women looking for?” I know I was looking good on both Tuesday nights that I saw and spoke with Amber. I looked in the mirror on both nights before I left my apartment, and said to myself, “Damn, I am fine, just look at me, WHAT!” My voice elevating in highness as I got near the end of the statement. My friend Burton would be able to imitate what I am talking about if you read this to him.

But Amber ignored my subtle and polite advances to let her know that I was a little passed liking what I know about her, and a little behind loving what I know about her. Could it be this problem that black women in New York City seem to have with young black men in New York City that caused her to casually ignore me and my advances. She knows nothing about me; nothing about what I ain’t, and nothing about what I is. She doesn’t know that I – old, that I am also a college graduate with his bachelor’s degree in Accounting. She doesn’t know that I work in Brooklyn, and that I make a decent salary. I got health, dental, and vision benefits, two weeks paid vacation and five sick days. She doesn’t know that I’m secretly on the lookout for a wife and not just a fuck or two. She doesn’t know that I am from Ohio, and not one of these New York Niggaz that women seem to write off automatically as bullshit. She doesn’t know that investing in order to have a secure financial future is on my brain almost constantly. And last but now least, she doesn’t know my name.

I think I’ll answer my own question as to why she doesn’t know these things about me. “….., she is just not interested in you for one, for two, she told you she has a boyfriend.” I could accept either one of those on a particular night from a particular woman. But this seems to be the case with every black woman I see as beautiful and worthy enough for me to try and converse with them. This leads me to the question of what do black women want from black men in New York City.

I find that it is a shame on these black women’s part that I am a single, black, intelligent young man without an intelligent black woman by my side planning our futures together. Black women complain about the lack of intelligent, good looking black males. Well Amber you had one right in front of your face begging you to try and get to know him because he thinks you are so beautiful. By the time you read this, if you ever read this and you want to “RECOGNIZE” that I’m “SAM SNEED!” Guess what, TOO LATE! But you don’t care cause like you said your man works late at JP Morgan.