My IdealBlackMan (IBM) archetype runs along the spectrum of John Boyega, A$AP Rocky, Kid Cudi, Lenny Kravitz, and Donald Glover, but I didn’t mention that there’s a MAJOR problem when it comes to my type.

A great prophet once said…

…i was the great prophet

It is seriously the ultimate absolute best-best, but the plot twist here is that my IBM generally isn’t here for black girls. People usually say that this occurs because my IBM hates black women, hates himself, or puts whiteness on a pedestal. That can be true for some, but overall, I just think these guys have no clue how many black girls actually wanna hook up with them. I mean, hellllllllo! I’m one of them and I know tons of other girls like me who feel the same.

Can I catch your eye sir? /Can I be what you like, yeah? / I could be the right girl / Tell me if you like your lady in my-my color / Can I be your type, yeah?

Five years ago, my homegirl (who has a dope podcast that you should listen to) and I came up with a remedy. We were going to start a dating site called “Alt Black Love.” It was the one-stop shop for all of your blipster/shea butter love connections. The tagline was aptly coined, “We Know You Know You’re Black.” Now granted, it was an inside joke and we never made the site (although we might-should make an app), but Lola did mock up a fye landing page.

Soon after #AltBlackLove, I saw what has become one of my fave contemporary films, Medicine For Melancholy) by director Barry Jenkins. Following two blipsters for 24 hours after a one-night stand, the film tackles everything from self-identity to the effects of gentrification in the rapidly changing San Francisco. There was a very poignant scene where Micah (played by my baby zaddy Wyatt Cenac) went on a diatribe about how AltBlacks need to latch on to their blackness (and black baes) as they navigate the indie world they exist in. He defiantly exclaims that “everything about being indie is tied to not being black.”

I legit hear Micah’s sermon every time I come across another AB and get completely skressed out knowing that we’ll prolly never actually be together.

After running this inside joke and movie into the ground, I decided that I would be the one to save the blipster boy from himself. I would be the sacrifical lamb willing to shower these AltBlackBoys with all of the black girl love they craved, but never got in high school/college. I was the Ciara before Ciara.

This dream crashed and burned very quickly after I was unable to convert this one really cute comedian dude a few years ago. However, 2016 is the “year of yes,” #HeyShonda, so I’m back on the block. I am here to claim what is ours and restore the love created by the Lennys and Lisas, Badus and 3000s, Kelis and Nas’ of the world.

With that I say to you, IBM blipster apple of my eye, remember this one very important thing: You can always come home.

…and by home I mean…

Steph Watts lives in Brooklyn and chronicles her hilarious struggles trying to find black hippie love in this still-evolving saga. She also, obviously, loves Rihanna, Queen Heartbreaker. Read Episode 1 , Episode 2 , and Episode 3.