Kissing Cousins

Growing up in a small town you have limited options on a lot of things.
It might be different in this age of smartphones and apps for everything from love to drugs.
When I was a kid in the 80's growing up in small town Mississippi not only was there not much to do but also no one to date.
 My Father's parents were rare in that they got a divorce in a time when divorce was really frowned upon.
 My Grandfather, who was a narcissist remarried twice more and had 11 more children, which we know about, the youngest is about 28 right now. His first wife my Dad's mother remarried and she and her husband had 15 more children. 
My late mother had 13 legitimate brothers and sisters and at least 4 illegitimate siblings that we know.
I understand that I'm throwing a lot of numbers at you, but there is a reason for it.
I was well aware of my dating restrictions and was generally very careful I knew who my relatives were and I had no problem asking my elders if I was unsure. People in places other than the Southern Region of the United States believe that we are all running around rutting with our sisters, aunties, and the cattle but it is not so.
Despite being extremely cautious I must admit that I got caught up. Twice. I will tell you both tales one of them is also the story of the only time I was called a racial slur in Mississippi. So hold on to something, tightly.
School, the worst and best of times. I had asked my father about a long list of girls from my school only to be informed that all of them were at least 2nd or 3rd cousins of mine. I even found out that there was such a thing as "Double Kin" meaning that I was related to that person through both my mother and my Father. I told you to hold on tight right?
It was frustrating. Dating is very important to a twelve year old.
As I told you I asked the questions, I would find out who the girls Momma, Daddy, Aunties, Uncles, grandparents, etc. It was important to me that I not date anyone who was kin to me. I know what you want to ask, but don't, you should never ask questions you don't really want the answer to.
When I met Daphne, oh boy I was happy. Here was somebody whose ancestry I didn't have investigate I KNEW definitely that we were not family. I didn't have to check because there was no way we could be. She was Caucasian, so there was no reason to query.
One day I was walking with her in the mall happy as could be. When I heard her father calling for her.
He caught up with us in front of a store called TG&Y.  I didn’t understand why he was angry. “Gal why is you walking with this nigger?” I remember looking around for this nigger, I didn’t know what a nigger was but it sounded dangerous. I took a step forward when he slapped her and he said “Anit you Demas and Birdie lee son? You hit me and I am going to tell your daddy.” Unfortunately I had already developed a reputation for not minding to resort to violence.
I walked away confused. First of all he had called me whatever that N word was and he had mispronounced my mother’s name white people usually didn’t call her Birdie lee.
When I saw my parents I told them everything. I just knew that my Dad was going to straighten that dude out. Instead I got the talk about black people passing for white and discovered that the Nigger caller was actually my freaking cousin as well.
I soon discovered that I had cousins on the Choctaw Indian reservation, and I was beginning to believe that I’d never find someone for me. 
I told you I was like 12 everything was overly dramatic.

A couple of years later, and I am getting dressed for the county fair.
 The fair was a really big deal mostly because you could finally find somebody that you were not related to.
I was an apex predator. My fade was tight. My line up superb. I flittered from girl to girl like a worker bee collecting pollen.
I met this girl, from Quitman which is about 3 counties and 6 towns away. I took my shot and lo and behold “He shoots he scores!”
I got her number and we talked I liked her. 
She was pretty and she had a big butt.
Those were my only requirements at the time.
A few weeks later we hooked up, yes in the modern interpretation.
I drove the 60 or so miles to drop her off at home and she insisted that I meet her “Big Mama”
Big Mama was cool, if a little touchy feely she was a space violator but she was old, and a lady what can you do?
“OH Wee you sho is a pretty child!” Big Mama’s voice was big and she leaned in to touch my hair. “Baby who ya people Is?”
I had heard that particular query before and I began my spiel. “My Daddy is Demas and my momma is Birdia.” She knew my mother and went on and on about how my mother’s father was a “Sho Nuff Pretty man.” I don’t know why men weren’t handsome in Quitman, Ms. but that’s what it was.  She commented on how fine my Uncles Willie and Frank were.
I thought I had escaped the family bonds.
“Who you said ya daddy was?”  I felt obligated to say his entire name. “Willie Demas Ma’am.”
She looked thunder struck. “Red Cole’s grandson?” I smiled before I answered I loved it when people knew my Papa.
“Yes Ma’am. I’m his great-grandson!” I said it with pride and I’m certain my chest poked out further.
“Awe, baby y’all can’t cote y’all kin.” She said scaring me and feeling me with guilt. “Close Kin.” She said driving the point further home. I could only respond. “Oh well. It’s too late  now."