I hope my readers had a safe transition into January 2021. Sorry for the long delay between my first post and my second post. I have a legitimate excuse. No, it wasn’t blogger’s block. My computer of seven years was slowly going out and completely froze late last year.

After I jumped that hurdle, I continued to ponder what should be my first topic. Initially, I thought about something serious and meaningful, then it dawned on me that finding love is something that’s both serious and meaningful. So that led me to write about The Bachelor. No, I’m not a regular viewer who watches the show with pricey popcorn, liquor-store wine, and a bucket for my tears. However, I do enjoy the opening entrances of the ladies to spot the creative ones. I find it interesting that it took two Black bachelorettes (one full, one half) and twenty-five seasons to get a Black bachelor. Perhaps, all the attention surrounding the Black Lives Matter movement helped to open the door. What stood out to me the most in the first episode wasn’t Matt James’ chiseled bod or him self-soothing with a prayer in the presence of the contestants before his official quest began. Rather, it was Matt’s conversation with host Chris Harrison about the pressure he felt being cast the first Black bachelor and him not wanting his pick to tick off anyone because he is biracial. At that moment, the writer in me was hoping Chris would say, “The producers and I felt that issue was a concern you may have and we have an encouraging message for you from the former Bachelor in Chief, Barack Obama.” When that didn’t happen, I thought he should be billed more accurately as the first biracial blackchelor. I also wished we could have a tête-à-tête to share my wisdom I’ve learned from writing a book about interracial love. Regardless of how Matt’s love quest ends, I think it’s great the show finally took this long-overdue leap.