I once called my dad in tears over a young man. (I emphasize once because not only did it happen at some point in the past, it was a one time thing. I learned my lesson.) This guy wasn't my boyfriend. We had no exclusivity or commitment at all. He was my "best friend" with benefits, and I knew that from the onset of our "relationship."
He was a great listener. He could initiate, hold, and carry stimulating conversations. We talked about any and everything. He was funny. We were sexually compatible. He made me feel so comfortable, and I allowed myself to become emotionally invested. I wanted more, and more was not an option.
So I'm feeling particularly sad because there's this "great guy" who I'm emotionally and physically invested in, who's not my boyfriend, when I call my dad...
"Man up, LeKechia!"
That's a verbatim quote. He actually told me to man up. Incredulous and offended, I immediately regretted calling him as he went on to say something along the lines of:
"You knew this dude wasn't the type of dude you could have a relationship with. Young men like him may be good for sex, but they're not good for dating or marrying. Hell, he's supposed to make you feel comfortable; you're giving him the gift of you for nothing at all. What do you get from this, LeKechia? Besides a wet ass?"
("Wet ass" is also a verbatim quote.)
After that conversation, I was mad at both the guy and my daddy, so I threw myself a pity party, thinking and saying things like:
My dad was rude and insensitive. He did not have to say that. He doesn't understand. He's so wrong for what he said. He's sexist. Telling me to man up was sexist. You wouldn't tell a son to woman up. Would you? Why didn't he say woman up? _________ is a jerk. He's at fault for this whole thing. Why couldn't he become the person he told me he wasn't from the beginning because I wanted him to? What an asshole!
I wasted that day feeling sorry for myself and mad at my dad for telling me the truth. It was certainly truth, and he was certainly right. I just didn't want to hear it. The only person to blame in that situation was me. I ran, full steam ahead, into a wall, knowing it was a wall, and was mad at the wall for not turning into cotton when I hit it. It obviously hurt, but it wasn't the wall's fault.
I now understand that when my dad said "man up, LeKechia" he meant no harm at all. He was telling me to take responsibility, toughen up, and deal with the consequences of my decisions. It was an unpleasant situation. What I needed to understand then, and sometimes even now, is that some heartaches and head bumps are avoidable. If we choose not to avoid them, eventually, we will have to woman or man up and deal with our consequences.
