I live in a house full of women. Four of us total. I know, you’re probably considering a multitude of things that transpire in these tight quarters; hormones, gossip, sex, a shit load of bath products and half-eaten ice cream tubs. Some of which would be accurate....
...but over the last six months, after living mostly alone, i've always been surrounded by wonderful hoards of brilliant women as friends, but I’ve never lived with this many and what I’ve come to know is what women want the most; to share, the give, and to find peace with our hearts.
The thing about it is, that intent isn’t the shallow kind even though it can look like this upon first sight or cliche; women sitting around a brunch table spilling details of why he did or didn’t text back, how he kissed "like he's kissed a lot of people without feeling anything,” or what costume you want to be in the next time you run into him so you can Peacock to your utmost. This is what it looks like on the outside. Simple, fleeting, exterior concerns. The thing about listening and about being surrounded by women that are dynamic, vibrant, volatile, forthright.... spirited....and radical in their lifestyles is that you find those things are just the skeleton of what they’re speaking of in terms of their desires. Of their intent. Of their truth.
What you come to know is the flesh, the meat, the skin, and texture behind why we want, chase, yearn-for the things that seem like casual over-the-mimosa talks. There’s always more than meets the eye and it’s our responsibility to our respective girl gangs to dig, to ask, to prod and incite the core of what we’re looking for.
Where women gather together safely, will by nature become the beacon for nurturing, respite, celebration and congregation. Since moving here, the four of us collectively share 20+ fantastic, beautiful, kind women.... all of whom come, accessible, tender, truthfully to regroup. For a glass of wine. A vent session. A porch hang. To borrow something that makes them feel a little different than their usual self for a day..... to sleep next to someone who will let them cry, or bring them bad breakfast sandwiches and tell them they “didn’t say anything stupid last night,” even if they did. Who will remind them that they are adored, revered and honored here.
We’re adult women. We want husbands and babies, some of have them, some of us don’t.... we have lofty dreams and even loftier expectations of our personal character. The universal TRUTH is that we have a calling to share our hearts. Whether by male, by female, by touch or by simply being there to listen. We have an understanding that as a whole, we have to fulfill this role to feel complete.
For the amount of time I’ve spent writing on this blog about men, I certainly haven’t spent a corresponding equivalent to that of the women who have had the bravery to love them.
For the times that you have asked me if you are foolish, the answer is no- you are not foolish, what you are is full of heart, abounding with love that you willing want to share with someone else and what I’ve forgotten to tell you is that doesn’t make you foolish, that makes you brave, my sweet thing.
For the times that you asked me to just lay on the floor next to you while you held your hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating.... you were regal and perfectly lovable in that moment, when you felt like the only person you wanted love from betrayed you. That does not make you weak, that makes you resilient.
For the time that you wondered what you did wrong after that romantic weekend, where you held hands as you ran across the street and felt seventeen again, cinematically swept off your feet and then forgotten, you were not forgotten you were bright and you were accessible. That does not make you disposable, that makes you supreme....and not everyone is ready to handle something, or someone that can channel such DIVINITY.
When you doubted yourself, when you let him steal all of your light, when you second guessed, over-analyzed, replayed, reconfigured the reality to take the blame for things going wrong...I beg of you, my most remarkable and celestial, fierce ladies... you did nothing. wrong. There is not a single thing about you that needs mending, fixing, refurbishing, or overhauling.
When you blamed yourself for letting someone so charming, so persuasive yank you away from your instinct....or your values, I will remind you that you reacted to what your heart knew to be true- what he did with that trust is for him to carry, not for you to abate yourself.
When you've cried privately in the bathroom to salvage your dignity because of his arrogance, when you've stayed an hour, a month, or a year too long, when you've blamed other women for being the problem, when you've been jealous, catty or insecure. When you've overextended your generosity, your time and your energy for someone who couldn't do the same...I want to remind you when you feel the slow burn of guilt, or regret that you were doing your best. And that you can and will do better from now on.
The next time you spend a minute too long wondering, "who will ever marry this girl?" I want you to think of when you were twelve and your Dad saw you cry over a boy for the first time. He said, "None them are worthy of you." For the next fifteen years he was mostly right.
But I want you to remember, when you start feeling bitter, or doubtful...when you make sweeping statements about "how men are," I want you to remember when that same man knew you were ready to find love, he said, "There will be one amazing man for you, you my dear will marry up from me."
...Remember that he has never lied or let you down, that there are men who want to be wonderful, honorable and adoring and that you my lovely friends, will be the women who end up with those men. The lovely kind.