There has been a lot of talk about the plight of the single, black woman recently.
So I decided today for Friday Foolishness (thanks MeyLocs!) to tell my “
Chante’s got a man” overview of how I got with my hubby. Because all of us aint bytchy and single.
Some of us are bytchy and boo’d up.
I'm joking.
Ha.
N-T-E-WAYS...
When I met my hubby, I was fresh out of college, working a bullshyht job and clubbing every weekend.
He was living with his mother, working a part time job, and making local joker mixtapes with his boys.
Yep. Exactly.
On Paper he wasn’t shyt.
The dude I was dating before him, was a master’s degree carrying, school administrator, that drove an Eddie Bauer edition Expedition and had a nice plushed out apartment with Italian leather furniture.
Yep, a real catch.
Except...
He wasn’t shyt. I mean really, he wasn’t.
He was nice, charismatic,and everyone knew and liked him but I sweah fo gawd he wasn’t shyt.
He was selfish and he was a cheater and that is one Hell of a combination.. He had his moments though. I aint gone lie, he had his moments…….
My future hubby was cool. He was laid back, unselfish, and if he said it; he meant it. Most importantly, he did it. He went to school, worked part time, went to church on Sundays and still cut the yard and washed the cars on Saturday mornings for his mamma'nem.
Most importantly, he was always concerned about me. How I felt, what I needed and how to make me feel good. And we had fun together. We wrestled, we sang loud and off key to boy bands, we went to clubs and was slick on that “you got served” back when you got served referred to a TV show on PBS.
Okay in the interest of full disclosure.. my husband did have them killer abs and that “V” pelvic cut on his side as well.....
Ohhhhh chile…….
(*whispers* moment of silence, bow your head).
But for a while I put him on the back burner.
all Because I wanted the dude that looked good on paper. I wanted to ride in the Expedition with those heated seats and the sunroof. I wanted to have friends over for casual conversation in front of the fire place; sit on the Italian leather sofa; while I served them mini quiche and white wine spritzers.
Forget the fact that I don’t like eggs, or casual conversation and I much prefer vodka, pineapple and red bull (The Shaydlady…..it’ll catch on..) to wine spritzers.
Forget the fact that while he definitely had his moments.. and yes, he had some moments….
Most of the time I was left feeling… “less than” in the relationship. But I still hesitated.
I guess its like when you have a good job that you hate and you know you should leave to follow your heart but you keep saying to yourself..
“I hate the job, but Man, them benefits is off the chain”.
Guess what? Most of the time, your benefits aint free. So is the price really worth what you getting?
But since my momma didn’t raise no fool,
I went with the person that made me happy. Together we have acquired the material things. My husband has a good job, he is a great father, he supports me, loves me, cherishes me. All of me; the calm logical, reasonable being and the angry, violent, monster I can morph into.
And guess what? He rides with me (well except when he was trying to scoot away from me for talking about that girl’s forehead…).
I am truly blessed to have him.
Our relationship provides me with peace. Whether we are at home I and I am cocooned in the warmth of his oversized arms, his warm breath on the nape of my neck, as he slowly, methodically, rubs my head,
Or arguing over what movie to rent at the red box (do you have that? I love that shyt!)Its there.
Its the peace that comes with knowing that someone loves you, all of you, even the you that YOU don’t like sometimes, with no strings, no ifs, no ands, no buts and the only demand is that you do the same in return.
That’s Why.
And I am thankful
Thankful that I was a raised in the James Evans camp.
Meaning I was raised with family and friends in the hood where a “good man” was defined as a dude that went to work and worked hard, came home, supported the family and did whatever he could to provide. He would also straight whoop a ninja a$$ about his family.
But a lot more have been raised in the Cosby camp.
The doctor with the brownstone, nice furniture, nice clothes, helicopter prom rentals;getting a car when your 16. A dad that babysat and played games and made faces, and wore fuzzy sweaters and made the family lip sync to old blues songs.
And there is nothing wrong with that.
Nothing at all and I’m not being sarcastic.
However as success has become more attainable; “successful” has been re-defined and so has the definitions of “good” men and women. Now, “good” men and women are synonymous with “successful” men and women and that's not the same thing in my book. The new definition puts far more emphasis on what a person has and not who or what a person IS.
That’s why the lame dude with velvet blazer, 96 BMW/Mercedes he got from a used car dealership and is paying 750 a month, a lease purchase home in the suburbs, a liberal arts degree and working in a call center with the Kinko’s business cards gets so much play.
I know, cause I manage that ninja.
I also realize that I had one key advantage.
I had the benefit of not having the now or never pressure.
My husband didn’t have to have anything when I met him because I didn’t.
At 21 I had the luxury of knowing that if not him, someone else would come down the pipe line. So I wasn’t caught up in whether it would work or not. I had time to let it play out.
See at 21 the fact that my 20 year old hubby worked part time, went to school and lived with his mother wasn’t a deterrent.
TRUST at 31 it’s a different ball game.
Though I do think that a lot of my currently single sisters, at least the ones that I know personally, feel like I settled. Why?
(What’s with all the questions?)
I’ll tell you why. Because he doesn’t have a degree; because we don’t live in the suburbs;because I aint ballin in the Escalade. Because I make more money than him now, though that hasn’t always been the case.
Many of the single women I know, would never choose to date my husband, even in his current self sufficient state or worse; many women in my situation today..might still roll with the ex.
He is after all a principal now. He now has the new Mercedes and the 2500 sq. ft. home in the suburbs with the crown molding, Jacuzzi tubs, and sunken living room.
He is throwing dinner parties with quiche and wine spritzers and requesting you take your shoes off when you enter.
But I’ve seen his wife, and while she is decked out in nice clothes and is sitting in that benzo riding on lorenzo’s…
I see the look in her eyes and I remember how that felt.
I remember wondering how he knew all the women in attendance.
I remember searching for him when he was gone because….you never know…
I remember watching him lean in a little to close, his hand a little to comfortable around her waist, laughing at a private joke and wondering….
I remember how it felt to love someone who, for whatever reason, could never; would never; love you the same and while life aint exactly been no crystal stair….
I got 99 problems but that shyt aint one…. Ya feel me?
Now let me clarify this is MY story. I can’t say anything about other women and their struggle. I do know that single and lonely is not the plight or curse of the successful black woman, there are plenty of us that are married or in long-term committed relationships and there are plenty that have the Cosby dream. That wasn’t necessarily what was best for me or what I find important but for those that do, it’s still possible.
I mean we never found out what happened to a "dream deferred"; so why believe it fades away?
Posts
