Need a Daddy

I like to say that I’m spoiled – and lots of folks will agree – but the truth is, I’m really just well-loved.  Sure I got most of what I asked for but what most people don’t realize is that I didn’t ask for most of what I wanted.  Even as a child I understood the concept of “needs vs. wants” and I knew not to take advantage.  But like I said – few people would know that…until now, since I’m putting it out there for everyone to read and know.

My father is the guilty party in all of this, if you have any question.  I don’t know if it’s because I look like him with a wig or if it’s because he just loves his first born or if that’s just how daddies are with their girls – and I don’t care WHY – but he very seldom told me no.  Excuse me, very seldom TELLS me no.  I’ve grown very accustomed to having my needs met by my father when they are presented to him.  The difference now, though, is that those needs are emotional, not financial or material and, as before, it takes a lot for me to even present my needs to him.  And the only WANT I even present is his presence.  Even grown women want to spend one-on-one time with their daddies…even if we’re silent.  Sometimes, like TODAY, I just want to be where he is for no other reason than because he is there.

You know I’m struggling with the “should I/shouldn’t I” with respect to having a baby.  (Side note: This is all assuming the option I have right now stays viable.  If it disappears this conversation becomes moot.)  Of course I’m afraid of being alone but I’m even more afraid of my child not having a father like mine…or not having a father at all.  (Again – this would be HIS decision, not mine, because my “option” is one that I want around forever…once we work some things out.)

I have so many ideas of what a father is and does. I’m sure one man might not have it ALL but don’t mess with my fantasy, okay.

·        Sincerely offers to rub my swollen feet…and I might break my “don’t touch my feet” rule if they hurt bad enough

·        Tells me “It’s okay, you already have a mini-me” when the baby doesn’t look like me (which just better NOT happen)

·        Takes us to church

·        Is there clapping and holding his arms out (or holding the video camera) with the baby takes his or her first unsteady steps

·        Is there when the baby has a bad dream

·        Helps with the poo diapers (how about takes ALL the poo diapers…no? Damn.)

·        Tells me that it will be all right when I get nervous every third day (because I will)

·        Teaches our son and daughter to hit the baseball.  (I can teach the throw and catch…but not the hitting…ask Daddy.)

·        Sits through our daughter’s dance class (…reading the paper if he has to, that’s allowed)

·        Reads bedtime stories

·        Listens to prayers

·        Tells the baby that big girls and big boys sleep in their own beds so they will get out of our room

·        Takes our daughter on her first date

·        Teaches our son how to open doors and pull out chairs for ladies

·        Is the first man to tell our daughter that she is beautiful

·        Teaches our son a firm handshake

·        Makes sure our daughter knows what Pookie and Ray-Ray REALLY have on their minds!!!!

·        Teaches them how to drive (have you seen me drive?)

·        Sits with me at the piano, violin, dance, trumpet, tuba, band, etc. recital and clap loudly even if it is terrible

·        Teaches our son to tie a tie (especially a bow tie)

·        Tells our son to suck it up when he gets hazed for the frat (I mean, gets words of encouragement from the frat…Because Deltas don’t haze I won’t have to do this for my daughter. /straight face/)

·        Says “rub some dirt on it and get back in the game” when the kids get hurt (not bad) playing sports (while I’m having the panic attack…forgetting that I also used to get hurt and lived through it)

·        Can and will do everything I can and will do in the rearing of our children

I don’t know if Daddy did all this stuff but I know he did enough of it for me to know how much he loved me and that he was a REAL father.  I cannot deprive my child of this kind of love, security, and influence.  Not if I can help it.

Two Up, Two Down - I Think It's Some Bullshit

Note:  My last piece, Waiting to Exhale, was kind of deep and caught one of my faithful readers off guard.  So I decided to lighten it up again to give yall a break from the angst.  That piece was hard to write, though.  I felt every word when I wrote it and I feel them every time I re-read them…and they hurt.  This one, though, tickles me so hopefully you will get a few laughs.

Have you heard of the “two up, two down” rule for who you are eligible to date?  That means you can date people who are two up or two down from whatever hotness “rating” you are.  For example, if you are an 8 your range is 6 to 10.  Sounds pretty good, except… what if you don’t want to go down?

I’m a solid 7.  I’m cute on the regular day but I can go from scruffy to stunner when I “clean up”.  I have a nice smile and fantastic legs.  I’ve even been called mesmerizing.  (Lame line but I blushed…a sister loves a compliment!) So yeah, I can confidently rate myself as a 7.  But I don’t want a brother that’s a 5.  Why should I have to settle for one just because someone came up with this stupid rule?

I mean, I can understand the rule.  It keeps people grounded in reality and SHOULD keep folks from getting their feelings hurt.  A 3 should not be trying to holler at a dime, expecting a favorable result. (Why is it always the dude hollering at the girl that is out his league and not the other way around?  Maybe it’s because girls don’t tell about when they get shot down.  We have more discretion…and pride.)  I understand the concept of “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”.  Some folks might not rate me as high as I do.  Hell, I’m just learning to value my-damn-self.  I’ve undervalued myself for so long it’s been a struggle to see myself for who and what I really am.  (That’s for another day.)  But if I think a dude is a 5 – and that’s bad because I am generally very generous – he doesn’t have a shot.  YOU might think my man is a 5 but I don’t care.  As long as I think he’s at least a 5.5 (smile) he’s in there.   I want a dude that I WANT…you know what I’m saying without me having to say it?  I mean, I want to think about his smile and smile.  I want to think about his eyes and remember how it feels when he looks at me.  I want to think about his arms and feel his hugs even when he’s not there.  I want the mere thought of his hands to conjure up memories of his caresses on my face.  I want to think about his ass sometimes, too, and think how nicely it fits into my hands…kind of like a double cheeseburger.  I do NOT want to think “he is all right…I just have to move his stomach over to get to it.”  #ijustthrewupinmymouth.  Again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder but dammit, I want to behold the kind of beauty that is beautiful to ME.  (I used to have a type but I haven’t dated a tall and skinny man in the 2000s so clearly beauty has been redefined.)

Am I shallow?  Maybe but so are you.  Quit playing…you don’t want a knuckle dragger either.  Hell, I know that some dudes might not be mesmerized by me so they pass me by.  Their loss.  I’m a good woman.  Go ahead and say it:  An average dude might be a good dude.   Yes, I might be missing out.  I think every single, solitary one of us has missed out on somebody that could have made us happy.  I think if we are honest, there is somebody we think about from the past.  But trust and believe, I don’t long for the 5.

(While I’m sitting her bullshitting, I need to be sending an email to the one who makes me smile when I think of his smile…you didn’t think I just came up with that, do you?  I had somebody in mind!  HE needs to quit tripping before I’M the one that got away….)

Waiting to Exhale

“I thought if I gave him what he needed, he’d give me what I needed.” (Bernadine)

I remember that line so clearly from the movie Waiting to Exhale.  It resonated with me.  Just now I felt it in my spirit…and it hurt.  Why?  Because I have thought that if I gave him what he needed, he’d give me what I needed.

I’m sure I’m not the only one but I’m just going to tell you about me.

When I think of all the stupid situations I’ve dealt with, only one fills me with the kind of regret that chokes me from the inside.  The kind that takes my breath away and causes my heart to beat funny, but not in the good way.  Because I thought if I gave him what he needed, he’d give me what I needed.

The problems with that are plentiful:

·        I didn’t ask him what he needed. I just thought I knew.

·        I didn’t ask him if he wanted ME to give him what I thought he needed.

·        I never told him what I needed.

·        He never agreed to give me what I needed.

The key is that he never agreed to give me what I needed.  I just assumed that if I Loved him hard enough he’d Love me back and want to give me what I needed.  Until that point I’d Love enough for both of us.

Wrong.  Nobody has enough love to love for two people.  Ever.  But you couldn’t have told me that.

(Inhaling.)

He is now married to someone else and I don’t really wish him well.  Sorry, I’m not that evolved.  (My chest hurts right now.)  He represents every bit of stupidity that I have done and allowed all wrapped up in a black lace bow.  He represents some of the most pain I have ever felt, even if I never said so.  He represents the biggest feeling of desperation I have ever felt; I actually wanted to call it off but didn’t because I had invested so much and it had to work out…right?

(Holding my breath.)

Years later, after self-reflection, I realize that I must not have Loved him because I don’t have any warm feelings for him left at all.  I never want to see him again.  I never want to hear from him again.  I don’t want any reminders of him.  I don’t wish him physical harm but that is about it.

I guess pain turns to bitterness – ANGER – sometimes, doesn’t it?  This anger is at myself…him too…but mostly me.  Thank God I know better now.  Let’s hope I put it in practice.

(Exhaling.)