I’m not too independent; I am me
So my scooter couldn’t start this morning. This is the same scooter that had been fixed — ‘fixed’ — just a fortnight ago.
I send Pieter an sms to let him know that the scooter is acting up again. I keep him updated on what I’m doing for the next 2 hours or so. And then he sends me an sms that says he longs for the day when he can do everything for me.
I respond by saying that I would never allow that; I can do most things for myself and would only ask for his assistance in an emergency. That’s how I had been brought up. Fend fer yerself! Trust no man! Be yer own best friend!
He obviously hadn’t like the sentiments I had expressed in that lone sms; I havn’t heard back from him all day long. Yes, sure, he’s driving back to Cape Town from Pretoria but that had never stopped him from sending SMSs before.
Here’s the thing: I don’t need a man to make me happy. I don’t need a man to support me financially. I don’t need a man to do everything for me.
I need a man to offer a helping ear when I’m feeling upset. I need a man to spoil me once in a while. I need a man to depend on when I somehow just can’t get things done [properly].
Relationships, especially the romantic types, are luxuries; we don’t need them to be complete. But luxuries are wonderful, in small amounts, no?
I need a man to listen to my utterances and to digest what I’m saying; I don’t want a man who ‘reads between the lines’ of what I’m saying. Someone who is happy with the smile on my face when I see him, someone who doesn’t need to be with me every single day, someone who has his own life.
I’ll call Pieter tonight to find out what had prevented him from speaking to me today. And if he tells me its because I’m too independent, I’ll have to end things.
It’ll be a pity: I had grown attached to him. But I can’t allow someone to manipulate me like this — the good ol’ fashioned silent treatment.