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!
