Says who The Single Girl Files always have to be about badly I NEED a man?
I’m going a little off-track today; a little against the grain of what I’ve always done with this series.
This edition is going to celebrate ‘the single girl’; embrace her for being the strong, independent woman she’s been forced to become... A little “girl power”, if you will. Maybe a little bit of tooting my own horn, too.
I realize this may be a post that some of you have been hoping for for a long time.
Well, folks, here it finally is.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this ever since my friend Sharon wrote a post entitled “Who Needs a Man”, in contrast to my Single Girl Files post from the same day, when I declared that, if for NO other reason, I needed a man to kill the behemoth monster spiders that had moved into my house.
I think about it every time I write one of these posts saying I need a man to fix things or squish bugs, and you guys tell me all about your husbands and boyfriends who don’t necessarily even know how to use a hammer, or who run screaming from the creepy-crawlies.
I also had plenty of time to think about this as I went back and forth, back and over, back and forth, cutting my hay field (aka, my lawn) on Saturday.
You know what? Four years ago, I had never cut the grass before in my life.
I grew up with a dad who looked after all the outdoor work. Keeping the cars washed, taking out the garbage, and having the grass always cut to perfection. Mom did the inside stuff and the flower beds; Dad did the rest of the outdoor stuff and fixed things.
I think he only let me try cutting the grass once, and when I drove into the side of the house, that was the last time he ever let me on the riding mower.
(Cut me some slack, man – the brakes on the thing didn’t work, and I was, like, five years old.)
Anyways…When I moved into my own place almost four years ago, I had to learn how to cut the grass, along with many other chores that I had never, ever done before in my life. And I’ve grumbled a lot about them over the years. I’ve had to buy tools. I have to remember when garbage day is. I’ve had to kill bugs.
And you know what? As much as I’ve grumbled about it? I’m kind of damned proud of myself.
I’ve also watched my mom over the past year learn to do all of these things, after my dad got sick and couldn’t do it anymore. And I’m damned proud of her too.
I think he’d be proud of both of us.
Dad always admired my friends who could do things that I considered “boy jobs.” My friend Sara could change the oil in her car, use all kinds of tools that I don’t even know the names of, and she loves to cut grass. My friend and roommate Sue is the same. And my friend Sharon is also willing to tackle any kind of manual labour. In fact, pretty much all of my friends are way better at this stuff than I am. They’ve all got men, but they don’t need to rely on them to do it for them.
Dad used to always say, “Now, if they can do it, why can’t you?”
I’m learning. Oh, I’m learning.
And I think I’m better for it. I’ve definitely gained independence; I’m stronger and more capable than I ever thought possible. I don’t need to depend on a man to put my bedroom door back up when it falls off it’s hinges anymore. I don’t need a man to cut my grass. I don’t need a man to take out the trash for me.
And…well…when a giant spider makes it’s way into my house, I can still always call on Brenda… ;)
Do I want a man? Of course I still do. But I want one to be more than just the handy-man I often claim to ‘need’ in these posts.
I want someone to snuggle up with on the couch and watch movies. I want one to go out with and try new restaurants. I want one to be my partner when I am embark on adventures.
Who needs a man?
Not me. Not anymore.
I still want one, for sure. But you know what?
Until then, I’m going to be just fine on my own.
And that’s a very empowering feeling.