I like hearing no.
Do you know how much that sucks to admit?
Fawn all over me, tell me I’m beautiful and rub my feet? I’ll be mopping the floor with you in a matter of days. For as much as I bitch and moan about wanting a nice guy… I’m the girl that ruins the nice ones.
It’s not that they’re boring… it’s that the balls are already in my court and I’m not even interested enough to pick them up if it’s that easy.
There’s a man in my life that loves me down to my stretch marks. He’d rip someone apart with his bare hands if they so much as touched me and I know unequivocally that every single other person that loves me, would do cartwheels if I threw myself in head first and loved him back. I could have everything I claim to want, in a second…
Happiness is standing in front of me, daring me to say yes.
Because I want the platinum ring… not just the brass one. I want to feel about my husband the way that will keep me married. I need to crave the man in my life, if nothing else. I need to like him more than everyone else.
Which means I need to work for it. I deserve a man willing to work his balls off to have me… and I am only too happy to do the same. If it isn’t worth the effort… it isn’t worth it.
I completely recognize my insanity. I realize I should just choose happiness for a change.
I just want more than that.
I’d rather be miserable, lonely and hopeful than resigned, complacent and apathetic.
I’d rather hold out.
Which is exactly what hit me when I woke up wrapped in a bad habit yesterday.
He didn’t mind disappointing me because he couldn’t care less.
If he really likes you? He comes to you.
If he really wants you? It doesn’t matter if it’s midnight on Sunday.
If you’re really special to him… he comes when you want him to at a seconds notice.
and he tells you no when you should hear it.
Because loving a woman isn’t handing over your balls. It’s letting her hold them… and only her.
I want to be loved completely, but I don’t want to be allowed to be a brat. I care about the type of woman I am in a man’s life. I’m not jealous, I’m thoughtful, I’m sexually inexhaustible…. I bake, I cook, I garden, I sew, I make every bad situation, better. I’m a female deadly weapon and I deserve the same. So I’m making a list, if only to remind myself how broken my picker is.
1. He must dance. Absolutely not negotiable. I want someone that wants to dance with me.
2. He must be employed. Ambitious too, while we’re at it. I don’t care how much money he makes, I just want him to be capable and financially stable.
3. He must kiss me stupid. I love to kiss, and it’s a buzz kill when you don’t want to kiss someone. It wont last if I don’t love kissing him. It’s positively doomed.
4. He must care about the example he sets, and the kind of role model he is. He must adore my children as much as I do. Preferably his are grown or nonexistent. No offense to anyone, but I don’t want to deal with another babymama in this lifetime.
5. He must have his own life, and pursue his own passions… including trips away from me. I can’t be the center of someone’s life again- it makes me miserable to be around. He must have friends and places to go, etc, and not need me there for everything.
6. He must NOT spoil me, always let me get my way or kiss my ass. I’m a confident woman, I can handle a disagreement and I’ll only lose interest in him if he’s a pushover.
7. He must look out for me and guard my happiness as much as I guarantee his. Without fail and without asking. It should be second nature to him.
8. He must chase me around the house and objectify me and understand if I want to install a stripper pole in my bedroom and take lessons. I’m happiest when desired, loudly. Attention whore? Yeah… that’s fair. It’s easily managed and it should not be a problem.
9. He must be honest to a fault. To the point of telling me I look fat in what I’m wearing. He must love me enough to honor me with the the truth, and respect me enough to be a blessing, not a curse, in my life.
10. He must be willing to walk through fire because I can be a royal pain in the ass when inspired to be, and because I devote myself completely and deserve to know what that feels like in return.
This is precisely why I’m single, lol… because there are women everywhere looking for this one mythical creature.
I’d be better off stockpiling yarn and ending up on that Hoarders show with cashmere stacked from floor to ceiling.
Now that’s bliss…