I got asked that simple question on Saturday. “What do you want?”
My answer was immediate. Person didn’t want to know the answer, person shouldn’t have asked. I’m a little dangerous healed.
“I want to come real close to first. I’m done being 5th or 6th or whatever, I want to be first.”
The follow up, “That’s how it’s been for you?”
… uh yeah. My whole life.
I thought it was my responsibility to take care of my dad, to fill his cup, to make him happy.
He’s dead. I failed.
I tried to take care of Scout. Couldn’t do it in a way that matched what he needed.
I failed as his wife, but damn if I’m not full of win as his co-parent and ex-wife. I do better now to watch his back.
I took care of the Dude and his heathen boys. Got cheated on and lied to in repayment.
I found someone else. I held his hand, I listened to him, I did a great job of standing on my own while watching out for him. Letting him take care of his business while I gave my full support. I made him a priority. He didn’t return the favor. Apparently I don’t have a birthday. At least as far as he seems to remember. Or yannow. Care. He was great at accepting my attention, I wish he would learn from my model – treat me how I want to be treated.
The friends I have who have lasted the longest, who mean the most . . . we know how to make the minutes matter. 160 characters or less and we can say all we need. 3 days straight of late night talks and we can still not have enough time. Damn I love my girls.
So what do I want? I want to come first . . . or if I must be realistic . . . first after the absolute necessary responsibilities already in place.
I want to be taken care of. Not that I can’t take care of myself. I’m pretty good at it. I have a kitchen full of fresh tile to prove it. I can pay my bills, get my oil changed, have a full time job and be a full time mom. I’m gottdamn superwoman I am.
I want a 1950s wife in a guy’s body. “Hi honey, how was your day, here is your drink, your dinner is on the table, wow your tits look awesome in that top, let me rub your back and your feet and put Alex to bed for you, then hold the vibrator for you so your hand doesn’t cramp.”
I’m ready to be taken care of. Not because I am weak and have to be, I have a choice and I know what I fucking want. I’m sick of settling for less, and I deserve better than what I’ve said ‘okay’ to. I’m sick to death of how I’ve rolled over and died so many times, instead of owning my damn worth.
So world, I’m putting you on notice. The bar is raised again, I’m done being a doormat. I’m pissed and ready for BETTER.