I haven't had a ton of dating experience. In fact, I've had far less than what I would assume to be average. When I was a teenager and a younger woman, I was scrawny, socially awkward, and well, just not all that appealing to the boys.

In fact, I used to joke that I couldn't attract a man with a T-bone steak and a 6 pack of beer tied around my neck (that was the old "make fun of myself before someone else did"). It wasn't entirely true, I mean I had a few dates.

And after I left the father of my boys, I had a friend who sort of forced me to get out there. Uggg! All I can say is thank goodness I'm married now.

All that said, my somewhat scant dating life got me thinking. Actually, it was a response to a story I write about unwittingly marrying a racist that got me thinking:

The response was from my girl KL Simmons. In it, she recounted some of the issues she'd had dating as a mixed-race woman.

Of course, I said, hey, someone should write about this! I guess she's busy, so sorry, you get me.

Dating as a mixed-race woman is … interesting. It has its own unique set of challenges. And before I get a barrage of comments asking me why being mixed-race matters or why I make a big deal about my ethnicity when I look so damn white, let me tell you why.

It's because it's a big fucking deal! It's a big deal because it's who I am. I am a child of both my father and my mother. I'm as proud of my Scottish/Irish/English ancestry as I am of my West African heritage.

I was raised in a Black home. Most of my siblings are Black. My cousins, nieces, and nephews are Black. And on the other side of my family, there are white cousins, aunties, uncles, nieces, and nephews.

When you get me, you get all of that and I won't apologize for it. It's what makes me who I am.

Now that that's out of the way, I can get to the point of this story, the unique hardships of dating while mixed. I can only speak to my experiences. Others may have had better, or worse luck than me.

We'll start with dating white men, or boys because some of them were when I was young.

One of the biggest problems I had dating white men wasn't with the men at all, but with their families. Things could be going along great. Then…not. A couple of examples should suffice to illustrate my point.

As a teenager, I started dating the boy of my dreams. He was handsome, smart, sensitive, and moody in that totally hot brooding way that made all the girls in the 80s swoon.

Things were great! He lived with his father and even he liked me. He used to tell me all the time how he was so happy his son was seeing someone like me, pretty, smart, driven, with a good head on her shoulders. He said I reminded him of his own daughter. Pretty high praise.

One night, my dad picked me up from their place, my tall, broad, Black dad. Everything changed at that moment. Suddenly, this guy didn't want me to see his son anymore. We were getting "too serious," he said. He wanted his son to focus on school. Newsflash, I was the only thing keeping him in school.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the man's problem. And at 16, it confused and hurt me. But karma and I are bitches and I came back and married that boy. Oh, and racist Pop, is not a part of our lives. How you like me now?

Another time, a man I was dating took me to his family's place for a party. he'd warned me beforehand that his father was a loudmouth jerk. He didn't mention racist. But surprise, surprise!

Spoiler alert, prefacing your comments with, "I'm not racist but," or "No offense, but…" doesn't change anything. It in no way makes a comment less racist or offensive.

I endured it for as long as I could and then politely left. I could have gone off. Maybe I should have, or not. The reason I didn't was my mother. She continually warned me to mind my temper (I have a bad temper) because as soon as people know who and what I am, they want to provoke the angry Black woman reaction. Best not to give them the satisfaction. She was probably right.

Families aside, I've encountered other strange things dating white men.

There are the undercover racists. These are the guys that want the outward appearance of being accepting while wanting to dominate and degrade. I married one of these clowns. I should have paid attention to the red flags. Jokes or things passed off as "just kidding," are never that innocent, there's truth in there, recognize it, heed it.

Then there are the men who actively sought me out knowing my ethnicity with hopes I'd be freaky in the sack as if there's some deep, dark African sex magic I possessed due to my race. If there is, I don't know about it. Also, if there is, they weren't going to get any of it! Don't call me exotic while you wipe the drool from your chin. It's not cute.

There were the few that wanted to parade me around for "cool points and street cred," like I was a ticket to the secret world of urban coolness. I ain't Huggy Bear or whatever movie trope you've seen. I'm not cool. I'm not urban. I'm a geeky, bookworm who loves quiet country life. I'm not a trophy to be paraded around town.

And don't ask me to keep my heritage quiet so that your friends and family won't squawk. It's not to protect me. It's to protect you. If you're ashamed of me, let me just show myself out. No seriously, that has happened.

Finally, there was the guy that literally, first date, said, "Man, I bet you can cook, eh?" He was a friend of a friend, a teacher no less. He should have known better.

Yes, I CAN cook, and I can cook very well. But, that doesn't mean I'm cooking for you. One would think an educator would have realized that my people were freed over 100 years ago. We are not here to feed you.

So, with white fellas being what they were, obviously, my Black brothers must have been better. Nope. Not even close.

Now, I will say this, they didn't treat me the same way as white men did. It was a completely different thing. In fact, they really didn't see me as mixed-race at all. They saw me as I appear on the outside, as white, and were disappointed when I didn't perform to expectation.

I have to be fair, I've only ever dated 2 Black men. I probably picked the wrong ones. It wasn't like I was spoiled for choice in Atlantic Canada. Both had the same complaint, I didn't act like their idea of a "white woman."

I wasn't quiet. I wasn't agreeable. I wasn't the type of woman to be dominated. I didn't know my place or know how to shut my mouth.

I looked cute, I had good hair, but my attitude was an F minus! My own brother-in-law, well former brother-in-law, told me I'd never find a man with my mouth. He told my sister to get him a coffee. She was busy with one of their 3 kids and he sat there, 4 feet from the kitchen and said, "Woman, grab me a coffee."

I asked her why he couldn't get a damn coffee himself. It was right there in the pot.

The Black guys I dated said as much. They found me argumentative and mouthy. Well, fair point, I am.

I'll give one guy props (do we still say that?); he was honest with me. We went out 3 or 4 times. He told me he liked me, but that he was looking for a White woman that would submit to him as god intended. Dude brought the damn Bible into it! But he was the only one that spoke his truth to my face. I have to give him that. If that's what he wanted, I wasn't it and I hope he found it.

So there I was caught between 2 worlds. Too white to be Black, too Black to be white. And everyone having expectations as to what or how I should be. I was, and am, more than my hair and face. You can't expect me to act like a white woman, whatever that means, because I'm not white.

You can't expect me to accept racism. You can't expect me to fit the mold of some strange fantasy you have about Black women because I'm mixed.

I'm neither and I'm both. And I'm so very glad I never have to date again because dating sucks and as a mixed-race woman, it can suck even more.

I'd be curious to hear from other mixed-race women and men. Have you had trouble dating due to your mixed heritage?