Single File

Breaking the silence

Men often say that women never mean what they say, or say what they mean. So this should help demystify at least one issue. When we say we want the “nice guy” it doesn’t mean that we want a punk.

A couple of weeks ago I met a semi-attractive, intelligent, and fully employed young man. We had a few conversations, he even made me laugh. But, for the life of me, I could not figure out why I was not attracted to him. He did everything right — sent me emails in the middle of the day to let me know he was thinking about me, sent me text messages asking me how I was doing, and even asked me out on a date. Without even thinking about it, the tip of my tongue flew to the roof of my mouth and my lips puckered, letting out a very polite, “No, thanks.”

After thinking about it for a few days and conversing gossiping with my girlfriends, I realized what the problem was — he was a b*tch. Now, coming from an educated woman, that may sound a bit offensive straight ign’ant, but, it’s the only way I can plainly articulate my feelings. He had a very soft voice, damn near falstetto-ish; he never held his own in an argument; and he let his friends push him around. He was always the one to drive everyone everywhere, whether they were going his way or not. He was the one to pick up snacks from the grocery store for his friends’ house parties.  He was the one to coordinate group outings and make sure everyone had a way there.

You may be thinking that he did this out of the kindness of his heart, and while that may be partly true, his good intentions were silenced by his friends’ barking orders at him to run these errands.  And, he did them.  It was almost embarrassing to watch him bow his head and step and fetch according to their demands.

I guess, subconsciously, seeing him damn near answer “yessuh” to his friends made me think of him as less of a man.  I think there are ways to do friendly favors without coming off as a pushover.  He apparently did not know how to strike this balance.

It is important to note, however, that a strong, independent woman does not need some macho man to take care of her or lay down the law, or any other cliche, stereotypical gender activity.  But, a strong, independent woman needs a strong independent man that she feels will stand up for himself and her if necessary.

Point of clarification 

I also want to make it clear that I do not want a barbarian, or a thug.

I did that whole scene when I was younger.  While reading Sister Souljah’s The Coldest Winter Ever, I thought I related to the main character.  When I was in middle school, I thought the fact that I had caught the eye of a gang banger, was a greater accomplishment than walking across my school’s stage to receive my certificate of first honors.  I walked with my head held high, my shoulders back, and switched my adolescent hips as far as they would go.  As I got older, the “gangsta” type became increasingly unattractive.

Now, I just want someone who can ride the middle lane.  Someone who will pull out my chair at dinner and buy me flowers randomly, but will not hesitate to let someone know when they’ve crossed the line.  Is that too much to ask?