I went to see a counselor because I thought I was doing my woman wrong. I was so weary and discouraged because every man that I had ever loved told me that I was too strong, including my very own father.
I sat in the counselors office as a middle aged white man glossed me over. Listening intently as his eyes delighted in my being. After I had gone through my last 3 relationships and my so over marriage, he said something to me that changed my life.
“Ms. Dibbs, please ease your soul. You are not too strong. You are not too anything. The men who said this to you were too weak and simply not enough. Their criticism of you was a declaration of their inadequacies. Your strengths magnify their weaknesses.
You are choosing the wrong man and you need to discover why. You possess the sophisticated intelligence to figure this out on your own. Do not come back here. Save your money and go in peace”.
After my session with this brilliant man, I searched myself and had to admit that I have a “savior” complex. I want to come in and save the day. Make everything better. Bring order to chaos. Wisdom to information. Structure to the crooked. Kiss life’s boo-boo’s. Be salve to wounds. And if I can squeeze in “Jesus is Lord”, that is even better.
Something in me draws the broken man. Maybe it is my abandoned call to preach. I just cannot do not traditional church with that tired ass, traditional hypocritical message. So I save my way.
I love Jesus but those people in those buildings, not so much.
I had to get over my need to be needed. I had to get to the place that I wanted and valued a whole man. A man who did not need me for anything but wanted me for everything. So, I took some time off to sit in the seat of my soul.
I counted the days off my calendar in gold sharpie with big gold X’s. When I felt that I was ready for a real man, a whole man, a completely together man, in silver metallic ink I wrote R E A D Y, and almost like clockwork, this man sat next to me on a flight to Miami and as soon as I smelled that blend of African essential oils he was wearing, I knew.
I knew he would be the one that did not need me for a damn thing but would want me whenever he could have me, for every damn thing.
Short Story Series