I am old fashioned. I know that may not appear to be the case because of the way I write and the subjects I write about, but it’s true. Don’t let the hooka heals fool you, at my core I believe that I have a “role” as a woman in a man’s life, whether friend or lover.
As women have struggled against society (often without a man) to “hold it down” the definition of her role began to blur and many have forgotten it entirely.
I used to be that way. I went through a stage where men couldn’t tell me anything, and though I loved the guys I was in relationships with, I wasn’t about to “cater” to their every whim, I get up and put pants on in the morning too, damnit- that was my funky tude.
Needless to say, none of those relationships lasted (for more reasons than just me not knowing what the heck I was doing) and as I grew into a deeply introspective person, rather than focus on the men, I chose to focus on myself.
Sure, I had criteria for dating and relationships, and I had some semblance of an understanding of what a life mate would embody, but I knew all of that would be pointless if I didn’t have myself together.
I began to look at the successful relationships around me and talk openly with the women in them, which led me to self identify the kind of woman I want to be- in a relationship or not.
Over the years I came to understand that was nonsense, and in truth, being “old fashioned” and embracing my role as a woman didn’t lessen my personal power or increase anyone elses power over me (because no one has power of me).
Having done that self work (which never ends, btw), I’m a much different person in a relationship than I was even 5 years ago- let alone 10. I’ve picked better men, had better relationships, had better endings to relationships, and grown because of it all. No one could convince me I’m not on to something:
I cook. Men love this, because most men like good food, and when they come home at the end of the day, they want to take a dump, eat, take another dump, watch some tv, fuck and go to bed. The great thing about cooking is you can learn it from a book. I make food I know my man is going to like. I have his favorite sandwich down to a science. I know how he likes his grits and eggs, and of course, what his preferred beer is. Above and beyond knowing what he likes, I know what he doesn’t like. I pay attention to things like that.
I don’t talk too much. Now don’t get me wrong ladies and gents, if I have something to say I’ma say it, yaddddamean? Ha! I don’t censor myself at. all. But at the end of the day, there is the difference between what I want to say, and what needs to be said. I have my girls to listen to all the isht I want to say; for my guy, I keep it as simple as possible. Men will either get stressed out by the details and the magnitude of an issue or they’ll just block out everything a woman says because she’s saying. too. much. all. the. time.
Whenever, wherever, whatever. That’s right, sex. I have sex with my man, basically whenever he wants it, however he wants it, wherever he wants it, all within reason, of course. I rarely say no, and I rarely don’t feel like it, so it’s no skin off my nose.
No nagging. Period. If there is anything that will make a man want to snatch a woman by her throat (besides her smashin’ the homie in a drunken stupor) it’s nagging. Negative, passive, berating rhetoric doesn’t really work on men anyway, and it enforces the notion that they don’t have feelings and people can just say whatever comes to mind. Not so. Men are very sensitive and nothing cuts them more than ill words from a woman. The only thing nagging accomplishes is building up hostility from one mate to the other.
Come one, come all. I encourage my man to maintain the relationships he had in his life before me. If there’s a monthly tradition of poker, or golf, or whatever it may be, I’m not going to passively schedule something else during that time and make him choose. The homies can come over and watch the game and I’ll feed em right and keep the cooler fresh with ice and beer. If the Line Brother calls in the middle of the night from county holding and needs to be picked up and my man has to go handle that, I’ll make sure he has his wallet and the sheepskin lined gloves and his wallet from atop the dresser.
It’s possible that I’m totally wrong, and being a naggy bitch who only feeds her guy fast food is the way to go.
But I don’t think so.
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