I’ve Got a Secret

I’m going to let y’all in on a little secret.  I’ve been keeping it for a long time. Now, when y’all hear my secret, the sistas will hiss and boo and think of me as a weak traitor, the brothas will say, “I told you so, I knew it all along.” I’ve wrestled with this secret for a long time, feeling guilt and shame for harboring these thoughts. Living my life in the closet, afraid to express myself, living a lie. In public, I deny my true feelings, crossing the line, extolling the sentiments exactly the opposite of how I feel. What is my secret? My badge of shame. Come close. Don’t tell a soul. I need a man. There I said it. It’s out in the open. I need a man.  

I grew up being told that a woman needed a man for survival, to be the provider and protector. The man was the breadwinner and the woman stood behind him. I was told that men could lie and cheat and treat you like shit and as long as they paid the bills and eventually came home, that’s all you could expect. Women were never supposed to argue or disagree with a man. “Oh, you are so funny.” “Stop, don’t say that,” in a coy and docile manner.  You had to have a man in your life. Even if that man was somebody else’s. A borrowed man was better than no man at all. I was raised to believe that all a woman could hope for was to play stupid, never have an opinion and to do whatever it takes to make a man happy. Which included spreading your legs, cooking, cleaning and being passive.  My momma never said outright, ”You have to have a man to make you complete,” but actions speak louder than words. There was never a day when she didn’t have someone’s husband calling her. She would fix them gourmet meals and offer them her dysfunctional mind and sexual body. And of course they took it and went home to their wives, bellies full and balls empty, egos enormous.   

I grew up knowing deep inside that there was something wrong with this ideal. I knew I didn’t need a man like that, in that way.  I’ll admit. I stumbled once or twice, forgot the truth as I like to put it. I’ve been known to put a man’s feelings above my own.  But then I got strong. I’ve been by myself for almost 14 years now. I wish I could say 14 long, hard years, but I don’t want to use those words to describe anything in my life over the last decade. I’ve decided I don’t want no lying, cheating, unemployed, good for nothing, game playing, self-centered, immature, passive aggressive, dick slinging man in my life (or any combination thereof). I have avoided relationships with men whose egos were grandiose and intellects miniscule. I chose not to get involved with men who have had other lovers or insincere motives. I’ve had sex more than a few times, maintenance dates, yes. But I’ve not had a man in my life.  I need a man.  I don’t need a man to pay my bills or rescue me. I don’t need a man to make me feel attractive or make me feel complete. I don’t need a man to fuck me because I’ve become quite proficient at that my damn self.

What I need is someone to be there for me when times are hard. I need a man to give me unconditional love and support. I need the comfort that comes from laying my head on that strong, secure shoulder when my head is weary. I need a man, a lover, a friend, and a partner. I need a relationship where I can me encouraged to grow as an individual and be a member of a team. I need a man to share my secrets with and my dreams. I need a man that will not make me feel bad about my fears and shortcomings.   Should I be able to fill up this void from within myself? Yes, and find the love that I so desperately need inside myself. But I can't. I should be able to find support from my family and friends, but it ain’t the same. I go to bed at night alone. There is emptiness, a void, a painful abyss. It is physical, it hurts. I don’t have human contact.

I hear sistas saying that they don’t need a man but I sure as hell do. And tell me this, if men were so damned unnecessary, why is it that successful sistas who have got a man are not trying to give them away. All these women out here talking about I don’t need a man. I tell you what I don’t need. I don’t need panty liners with wings.  I don’t need low fat chocolate ice cream. I don’t need 36 pairs of shoes. Seems like to me, if men were so damned unnecessary, there would be a lot more hairy-legged lesbians around.  

I need a man who has dealt with his issues and is ready for a mature adult relationship. I need man who has outgrown sticking his dick in anything without regard for pregnancy, disease and hurting someone’s feelings. I don’t need a man who is trying to get into my panties three minutes after meeting me. What I need is a strong, African-centered, evolved, emotionally mature man.  Whew, my secret is out. I feel better! It’s a tremendous burden off my shoulders. If there are others like me out there, stand up and be counted. I NEED A MAN!

 

A Full-Course Meal

I struggle with finding suitable partners, ones to whom I attracted, who meet my criteria, and who appreciate what I bring to the table.  I’m most assuredly, unquestionably sapiosexual; I’ve yet to meet the man who is too intellectual for me, so finding someone who stimulates me mentally (notice I didn’t say challenges me mentally, I ABHOR verbal sparring with my partner) is essential.  That eliminates quite a few men from my potential dating pool.  I’ve dated men who were smart, I’ve dated men who were intelligent, I’ve even dated those who were not particularly bright, but nothing compares to dating an academic and an intellectual in my book.  I don’t need to date Einstein (Who am I kidding? Yes I do.  And, if he comes in the body of a 6’3” beautiful black man, I'm chaining him up in my basement and never letting him leave.) but I mos def need a man who thinks outside the box, who sees things beyond black and white, who has challenged the status quo.  I’m tall, I’m outspoken, I wear my hair short and natural, and I’m AfroerotiK, so that intimidates a lot of men.  Bam, my dating pool just got infinitely smaller.  I’m convinced, beyond the shadow of a doubt in fact, that there is a man out there who will find me attractive, whom I find attractive, who meets my criteria (I will not settle for anything less than a Black man who is HONEST, a man of integrity, socially and politically liberal, and emotionally mature) AND who appreciates all that I have to offer. 

I am the real deal.  If I have to say so myself, I’m quite the package, or as applies in this metaphor, I bring a lot to the table.  First and foremost, my table is set with fine china, linens, crystal and sterling silver cutlery.  I’m far from ghetto.  I’m not average, mediocre, or typical.  I’m sophisticated, worldly, traveled, well-read, educated and I come from a family of professional, intellectuals, and activists.  I carry myself like a queen because I am descended from royalty.  I don’t do drugs, I’ve never engaged in any illegal activity, I don’t associate with riff raff, degenerates, or those prone to drama.  The table itself is reflective of five-star dining. This ain’t no take out joint or chain restaurant. 

What’s on the menu?  Well let’s start out with the appetizer.  How about a woman who is mentally stable, a great communicator, pathologically honest, of above average intellect, creative, talented, and independent?  I’m not at all superficial or materialistic; I’m extremely grounded and down to earth.  I’m loyal, a great friend, and trustworthy.  I’m a great cook and very domestic but a phenomenal entrepreneur to boot. I’m socially conscious and empathetic and very much an advocate for the oppressed. 

Is that enough to whet your appetite?  Well for the main course we have a woman who has a HUGE heart and who is unbelievably loving.  Caring, affectionate, romantic, and thoughtful are all words that accurately describe how I behave in a relationship.  Do you like gifts and surprises for no reason?  Perhaps you like a woman who is spontaneous and adventurous?  That’s me.  I will be supportive, I will help you fulfill your dreams, I will take excellent care of you when you’re sick, and be your biggest cheerleader.  I won’t give up on the relationship; I’ll work hard at it to make it happy and satisfying for both of us.  Compromise is my middle name and I’m never so arrogant as not to admit when I’m wrong. 

And for dessert . . . ahhhhh . . . dessert is the sweetest, most mouth-watering treat imaginable.  My sex is like whoa.  I do not give my body away indiscriminately; I’m very selective with my partners so if you get to taste this rare delicacy, consider yourself lucky.  Once you get it, once you get my juicy, hot, sticky, sweet, wet love it is all yours, and no one else’s.  I am a fanatic about keeping the fires burning in a relationship and seduction is an art form I’ve mastered.  My passion burns hot and I love to express it all the time.  Intimacy is my drug of choice and I’m addicted to it.  Prepare yourself for a night of extended foreplay, beautiful love-making, and finished off with sweaty, loud, primal fucking over and over and over again. 

What’s the cost of this sumptuous meal?  Your commitment to me and the relationship, your complete honesty, and your love.  Not a very high price to pay for such an exquisite meal. 

My Romantic Resume

It's time.  It's time for me to be in a healthy relationship. I'm not getting any younger,  I've done the work on myself to be a great partner, now is the time to manifest the man who can share my life.  

The following is Scottie in a nutshell.  I'm putting myself out there, being open and receptive for getting and sharing a divine love. 


I'm Miss Non-confrontational and Pleasant to be Around.  Most men want a woman who is sweet.  Sweet is for bunnies and women who are emotionally submissive.  I'm not sweet. Granted, I don't like to argue.  I don't have the need to be right.  I don't need to have the last word or prove my point but I’m not complacent and I won’t cater to a man’s inflated ego.  I'm childlike in my awe of things that move me but I’m far from childish. I fly into a rage when I'm lied to but other than that, I'm good to go.

I'm Ms Radical Black Feminist.  I don't hate men, I don't hate white men, I DO hate the privilege that a penis and/or white skin affords some people without merit and I work to dismantle the fallacy of male domination and white supremacy with my words and deeds.  If you don't like the idea of me saying that (white) men have unfair privileges in this society, I'm not the one for you. 

I'm Ms. AfroerotiK.  I write personalized, customized erotic stories for a living.  My life is dedicated to showing African Americans in a healthy sexual light and dismantling the stereotypes of Black women being ghetto hoochies and Black men being thugs and pimps.  I write stories about all facets of Black and interracial sexuality, including individuals in the GBLT community, giving them a voice and an outlet to feel validation and respect.  I'm more open minded about sex than the vast majority of the population.  That being said, I'm not physically sexual with anyone unless I'm in a relationship with them so while I can discuss any kink, fetish, or fantasy under the sun, while I can be as brutally forthcoming and open in my discussions of the specifics of what I like, I’m not going to have sex with anyone unless I am 100% positive that they are committed to me for more than my physicality.

I'm Ms. Flexible who can adapt to most situations and not afraid to decline an offer if it isn't to my particular liking. 

I’m Ms. Straightforward . . . Do I even have to expound?  I don’t play games, I don’t expect a mind reader, I’m not pulling any punches. 

Independent is my middle name.  Actually, it's my confirmation name but let's not get caught up in minutia.  You needn't worry that I'm going to give up my goals, aspirations, and dreams or lose my identity in being your girlfriend because I have more drive, ambition, and pure spunk than most people could even dream of.  While I adore being partnered, and I'm EXCELLENT at being a girlfriend (loving, nurturing, supportive, the whole nine) I am a woman with a mission that can’t be distracted.

I’m Ms. Loyal, faithful, and monogamous to a fault.  When I'm with someone, I only have eyes for him.  If I feel the relationship is not providing me with something I need, I'll address it with hopes of a resolution or end the relationship before I look elsewhere.  I expect the same in return from my partner. 

I’m Ms. No Pressure.  I don’t want a ring, I am not planning on how to get you to marry me, I’m not looking for you to spend every minute of your time with me.  I just want companionship, intimacy, and connection.  Anything more than that is a bonus.  

I’m Ms. Low Maintenance.  I'm considered attractive by some, not so much by others.  My looks, appearance, and wardrobe don't define me.  I am grounded, down to earth, non-pretentious and humble. 

I need someone to remind me that I am a woman in my lonely existence, that I do have value more than my aesthetics.  I want a male friend with whom I can express my fears, doubts, and insecurities without being labeled damaged or imperfect.  I’d love a male voice to tell me goodnight and someone with whom I can share the details of my day.  I’d like to think that I could make life’s journey a little less daunting as I’d like to hope that you might be able to do for me.  Not many men would be open to a woman like me but nothing ventured is nothing gained for sure, right?

Peace and many blessings,

Ms. Trying to stay sane in this crazy mixed-up world.