In The Meantime, Part 3: Intimidated Men

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Note: This series will go in and out of parts. Some will address the ghosts of past relationships, others will talk about current situations, and most will give advice. Pay attention to the page breaks; they help you understand the transitions. Also it would help to read part 1 and part 2 of this series first.

I’ve dealt with intimidated men before.

Although none ever expressed their intimidation outwardly, I could sense their insecurity. Some would change the subject quickly, when I brought up work, others would roll their eyes or sigh, and most came up with ridiculous excuses as to why we could no longer date.

You see, you’ve just got a lot going on and I don’t want to hinder that.

It was fun, but you’ve got your thing and I’ve got mine. It’s just a lot.

I’m really proud of you, but you should focus on that.

I looked up from my menu, “What makes you think I don’t need a man? The fact that I have a great career?”

Really what I wanted to say was: YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I DON’T NEED A MAN. I FELT INCLINED TO TAKE ONE ON, BUT SINCE YOU CAN’T HANDLE YOUR EMOTIONS I’M LEAVING.

But, I digress. I wanted to hear him out.

He sighed, “I just don’t get along with women who are too career oriented. I like to spend time with my woman and your type always seems busy.”

“I am busy. I won’t lie about that, but I make time for things I deem priority.”

He wasn’t convinced, “That’s cool, but I also don’t need my lady telling me how to pursue my dreams. That’s something I do for her, not the other way around.

The womanist and Jamaican in me, sucked her teeth, grabbed her purse, and left.

Fool.

Ignorance at its finest. Kevin was the first man that showed his insecurity physically. The minute I brought up the fact that I was upper management; he started moving around in his chair like he had an itch. When I’d begun expounding upon a partnership, he’d rolled his eyes and tugged at his collar.

And ladies, we simply don’t have time for this kind of brother.

You don’t have time to soothe the wounds that ‘career oriented’ women left there.

You don’t have time to explain to him that perhaps she was just a jerk.

You don’t have time to pretend that you aren’t a descendant of queens.

You don’t have time to tuck your accomplishments somewhere neat and unnoticeable.

You don’t have time to lie and whisper dumbed down versions of you.

 

You only have time to be great.

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