My first girlfriend's name was Kelly and she was black. We were sitting in a resturant, half-way into dinner, when she leaned across the table and said, "Doesn't it bother you?"

I didn't know what she was talking about. "Doesn't what bother me?"

"The looks," she said, glacing out at the rest of the room.

"The looks?"

"Because we're together."

I panned the room, but didn't see anybody looking at us.

"What looks?"

"You don't get it, do you?" she said.