sisters' sisters

How can i write this article? It's wrong, it's atrocious, it's...not me. I'm about to lump people together based upon nothing more than THE COLOR OF THEIR SKIN. And i don't mean "people" in the abstract, for some treatise on race relations. No, i'm going to categorize people i've personally known, based upon nothing more than pigmentation.
Me.
The would-be genderblind, colorblind crusader. The guy who chastises African-Americans for being overexcited about Obama. The guy who cries inside as 99.999% of black women on a romance website identify themselves by skin color before you've even opened their ad.
Me.
In my feeble defense, they did it first. I've been asked by women of color, "Have you ever been with a sister?" You can reject their premise (which i do) but at a certain point you have to acknowledge that virtually everyone in this society DOES identify themself by their skin. And the vast majority of those possible few who don't, were afforded the luxury of being born white.
Also in my defense, there is a certain extent to which skin differences are more than skin deep. Differing socializations. Differing body chemistrys. It would be fun to make a scratch n' sniff book that asks you to identify six scents corresponding to six different people (white/black/asian male, white/black/asian female) who have been laboring in 100 degree heat all day.
So, to risk further disillusioning the unwashed mass of crickets who follow me, the answer to the aforementioned question, my sisters, is...no. I, Captain Colorblind, have never been with a sister. Reverberations of shock may now pass through you.
But let's not make a thing out of this. I may have a lot more life in front of me than behind. That said, i will now reminisce about my black "almost were" lovers, for no other reason than the goofy coincidence that passed through my mind recently...just one of the million and three idiotic thoughts that pass through all our minds on a daily basis. That coincidence? Based on my life, when it comes to romance BLACK WOMEN ALWAYS COME IN PAIRS. Which is not to say that black women favor threesomes, but that every significant romantic black connection of my life has always had a second woman attached.
For the purposes of this article, i define "been with" as a relationship involving oral, anal, or vaginal pentration. My own definition is much broader, but i'll use this one today because it's relateable for most people. By this definition, i have remained on the outside of "been with" by only the teeniest margin. There was the woman i spent one amazing night with, our naked bodies and genitals rubbing and sliding against each other while we kissed in bliss. I lost that relationship by trying to slow things down. There was also the "mulatto" (yes, we actually have that word in our language - but the one that really kills me is "octoroon") i held while she brought herself to orgasm...another wonderful, wonderful memory.
But by strict definition, i ain't "been with".
The first pair was a mother and daughter i lived with. I saw the mother naked twice, and was affected enough to fantasize about her, even though we had NO spiritual compatibility. With absolutely no romantic preamble, one day she asked me whether i wanted a child. Her daughter was a youth in the full flush of first sexuality, who would look at me with such intensity there could be no denying her intent. I was drawn to her with a power that was nearly overwhelming. It's possible i may spare a little dream about her even on the day of my death. I imagine going back in time and saying yes to the mother's proposition, only to stay within the family's sphere, to ultimately be with the daughter (there's a reason why that book by Nabakov is one of the greatest ever).
The second pair were sisters. I shared a spiritual romance with the first one before we met. When we did meet, we became close physically. After a week of holding and sharing, she suddenly told me she was ready for me to be inside her. But i knew that our friendship wasn't yet on firm ground, and chemistry-wise her pheremones didn't feel quite right (which is more than a fancy way of saying that i wasn't crazy about her smell...but it includes that). The moment i met her sister, i felt a carnal pull that feeds my fantasies to this day, and i'm almost entirely sure i affected her the same way. We never had the chance to be alone together.
As i thought this week about these women, my friend P came to mind, and i relievedly realized i wouldn't be writing this silly article, because there was no other black woman making a triangle with P and i. But then i remembered her sister! P and i have been friends for a long time, for most of which she's carried a torch for me, an "elephant in the room" we've never acknowledged. I love her spirit, but was never strongly attracted physically, and knew that differences in our rhythms would make any attempt at conventional romance a disaster. But when someone carries an undying torch for you, your fantasies can't help but go there. One of the things that stays my tongue whenever i get one of my urges for complete honesty, is the memory of how instantly attracted to her sister i was, the one time we met. I'm pretty sure it wasn't one-way. Sibling relationships are almost always fraught with some bizarre competitiveness, and i'm sure it would mess with P's mind to know how i felt about her sister, no matter how much time goes by.
There you have it. Black women. Pairs. Anyone have a line on what's going on with that?
That was rhetorical.