I Do Want To Be Picked By A Man.

Is This So Bad?

I hate that the shit that goes the most viral on here always comes from those days where I’m up late at night crying, emotional as fuck. My best work on here is when I am in pain. But I think that is because I am not scared to move the needle and openly express where I am at. I am so brave. I take risks. I say what everyone else is feeling, yet scared to say. Please know, any negative comments will be removed. I chose to share this because I hate this culture of stoicism and unshakeable confidence 24/7. I am not a fucking robot. My feelings are deep and powerful.

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We live in a culture where it isn’t supposed to be okay for women to speak about their desire for love. Any type of sadness about the lack of it or any shame you have for not experiencing certain things makes you ‘weak’ in this day and age. Women are not supposed to yearn for romantic love. We have to mask and put up this facade that we do not desire it. That we do not fantasize about it. That we do not deserve it if we aren’t where we want to be. I find that to be incredibly cowardly and pussy. What gets me— is this idea that community and family replace romantic love if you don’t have it. You can possess your ideal community and tribe, and yet there’s still this loneliness you feel from watching other women be loved and treated properly. Of course, you never know what these women are going through behind closed doors, but after a while you begin to feel defective and undesirable for your lack of romantic experiences. Openly talking about this makes you ‘desperate’. Openly talking about this makes you ‘thirsty.’ It makes you a ‘pick me'. But I cannot sit here and act like that isn’t a part of life that I want to experience so passionately. It isn’t something you can control. It’s something that is just supposed to happen. Yet, I often feel very unpretty and undesirable and consistently looked over. Like I am not enough. Not worthy of it.

I have my trust issues with men, yet I still desire affection and attention and tenderness and passion and gentleness from them. Does me saying this make me desperate? People will say that a woman owning all of this breeds of insecurity and this cry for male validation. But what if I actually want to be validated by a man? Is that a crime? What if that is something I want for once in my fucking life? What about those of us whose fathers have failed us, uncles have failed us, grandfathers have failed us. Is that wrong to want to be seen by a man? To be adored and looked at with admiration? To yearn for a man to sit back and see your beauty, even in spite of your demons, your flaws, your trauma?

Culture says you shouldn’t date anyone if you’re not fully healed. You apparently shouldn’t date anyone if you’re dealing with occasional bouts of depression. This never made sense to me. Why are we allowed to have friends and community if we’re down and out, but not romance? What does that say about this culture? And why do we have to be void of emotional issues and trauma before deciding to date? Why do we need to be perfect and ideal before we can experience that? It inadvertently pushes this ridiculous idea that we are not humans. I think that through romantic love, we can heal ourselves and we can also transform ourselves. Why? It exposes parts of ourselves that we didn’t know we needed to work on. Often times, people can act as mirrors to our souls, even without them trying to. Even without their knowledge of doing so. That is the power of love. I want that. I want a man to love me with my scars. I want to be loved as an assault victim. I want someone to hear my deepest, darkest, ugliest truths and still want me. Still choose me. Still pick me. Still fight for me. Still see the GOD in me. Still see the excellence in me. I want to be caressed and worth the consideration. I want all of that.

I want a man to want me. I want to want a man. I want a man to be fearless in his pursuit of me. I want to be fearless in my pursuit of him. I want to push a man to break through his fear of vulnerability with me. I want to break through my fear of vulnerability with a man. I have visions of a deep, soul connection. Spiritual. Transformative. Almost cosmic-like. Destined love. A fated love. A chance encounter. A serendipitous love story. Twin flame type shit, you know? Tethered energy. Divine orchestration.

Sometimes, I want it so bad that I will even willfully become blind to a nigga’s bullshit. Suddenly, I can’t see or hear. I forget my worth, admittedly. I forget about all those positive words of affirmation I just told myself in the mirror that morning. Sometimes, I want it so bad, I say ‘fuck the spiritual awakening’. I just want to feel needed and wanted right now. In this moment. Even if you’re lying to me. Even if you’re leading me on. Even if I’m fully aware that you just get a fucking ego boost outta me. Sometimes, I want to be your favorite out of all the bitches you’re talking to. I just want…something. Lie to me. Tell me you miss me. Tell me you love me. Tell me how much of a genius I am. Tell me I made your day. Tell me I’m pretty and you want me, even if you don’t. Because you didn’t mean any of that shit anyway, right? Or did you? I’ll accept the breadcrumbing. The random cut offs. The flighty communication. The bare fucking minimum. Just to temporarily feel loved. Because this is all I’m gonna get anyway. Keep leading me to nothing. Keep leaving me hoping. Keep up the manipulative shit. Pull on my heartstrings. Keep me believing in the lie. Keep me delusional. Keep reeling me in. Keep dipping your toe in the water with me. Keep laughing at me.

Truth is, I’m fucking pathetic. I find myself trying to prove my worth to niggas because I always had to prove my worth to my father. I would jump through hoops to get his attention and his mark of approval. For any type of affection. For any type of light in his eyes. I’d accept the scraps as a child. And I do that now— with men. It’s ridiculous. A few positive affirmations, good looks, and an ‘interest’ in my work is all it takes to win me over. That is all it takes. I must hate myself, but then I think… girl, you just want love. Even if it ain’t real. You want attention. You are constantly seeking male validation in the realm of romance, because you ain’t ever receive that shit from any of the men in your life. And men see this. They do. Even the ‘good guys’ who think they’re good dudes. They dangle this idea of romance in front of my face to keep me near. They do the occasional check ups just to see if I’m still angry at them. And what do I do? Fall for it. Because I’m desperate. I’m a fucking idiot. I hate myself so fucking much. These niggas see it. And they take advantage of me. It gets them off to get the girl who is supposed to be soooo smart and standing on business. That’s it. It’s a game to them. It’s fun to them. Playing with my mind is a joy for them. Getting me wide open is like a win for them. And I must lowkey enjoy it.

I’ve tried being the quiet girl. The ‘mystique’ girl. The normal girl. The girl who just shuts the fuck and goes by the playbook. Admittedly so, I’ve found myself watching those Shera Seven videos, taking her manipulative advice and following her techniques, to which they sadly and surprisingly worked at times. But I started feeling uncomfortable because of how inauthentic the shit was. Which led me to believe… there are men actually falling for this shit? How sad. How depressing. And how disorienting to think that might be the only path to connection in this dating landscape. I’ve tried suppressing my interest. I’ve tried not being unabashedly honest with men. But it ain’t me. It’s not. I’ve tried dressing a particular way. I’ve tried being mute. I’ve tried all the fucking rules… and they just breed of superficiality. I don’t want to use a nigga for his money and resources. I don’t want to act one particular way to attract a potential partner— why should I? I don’t want to do it. I don’t.

I recall talking to a group of my friends about one of my experiences, to which they told me, ‘Use that nigga for what he’s worth!’. I laughed, but deep down, I couldn’t find myself to do that. And in that moment I felt like an anomaly for not resonating with this dating culture of exploitation and strategy. That isn’t the type of woman I am today. I think in the past I was like this, but even that was a lie. I just wanted to AVOID my true desire for genuine romantic connection. It was easier to act like I didn’t want it. I’ve always wanted to SEE someone for them. It isn’t in me to use anyone. I could never. Yeah, I joke about it but that isn’t Kamory. But perhaps, I SHOULD be that way? Maybe I would’ve been had a skew of experiences. But I can’t get get with this shit. I desire a relationship that thrives off our shared humanity and values. That’s it. I don’t care about that other shit.

I am constantly stuck between am I fucking embarrassing myself and being a fucking clown or am I really just that intense? Is it wrong for me to be okay with embarrassing myself a little and being a little vulnerable in pursuit of romance? Or am I desperate? Is it wrong to be desperate? Am I fucking pathetic? Or am I just outgrowing my fearful avoidance and feeling out of place in a culture that lacks empathy and soul? A culture that doesn’t feel comfortable sitting with themselves? A culture that looks at vulnerability as off putting? Have I ever REALLY been liked by a man? And if not, does that make me worthless? Because in my eyes it does sometimes. That’s what society tells you and in a way, you internalize that— just as men internalize the patriarchy. Social conditioning, I guess. Does that make me a ‘pick me’? I’ve never thrown other women under the bus to impress men. I’ve never talked down on one type of woman to uplift myself— so I would say no. But I would like to picked. Isn’t that what everyone fucking wants?

and FUCK, it doesn’t matter how much self-care you do— it will not take away that desire. My biggest fear is being unable to find it in this lifetime. I admit this. Heavily. I fear watching my friends get married one by one, and I’m that one bridesmaid every wedding who STILL doesn’t have that special somebody. I fear getting older and going to family events, getting asked why I don’t have a man. I fear reaching my 30s and having the world look at me crazy for being… single. And it’s not that being single is horrible. It’s not that being single means you will have a disastrous life. No, not at all. It’s just that… romance is something I want so bad. Even if it is temporary. I could experience it for two months and I’d be content knowing I experienced it exactly the way I liked it. I would die complete.

No matter how many dating coaches exist, trying to push these dating strategies and inauthentic dating techniques, the kind of love I yearn for is all about luck. And what if I’m one of the unlucky ones?

Sometimes, you want that romantic connection so bad— that you’ll deal with breadcrumbs and niggas pulling on your heartstrings and emotions just to experience SOMETHING— even if it’s fake. I can heavily admit this— at least for me. And people will say, ‘well, are you really that confident and as cocky as you say you are if you feel this way?’, to which I would respond ‘yes, i’m a human. and i’m a woman. at times, I fall short. I’m not always right in my logic. That still doesn’t take away from my inner knowing of me being special, even in moments of doubt and insecurity.’ Sometimes, I want to show people that I’m capable of being loved, sad as it is. I want the flowers and the balloons on Valentine’s Day and the consideration and the late night drives and the love letters and the romance novel kinda love and the unconditional fucking love. I wanna be introduced to the parents, but I guess I’m too much of a wild girl. I wanna hear a ‘nephew, that’s you?’ at the family cookouts. I wanna pour my heart out to a nigga and not fear being looked at like a fool because of it. I guess I be lying to myself and shit— acting like I don’t want that sometimes. Because lying makes it easier to avoid getting down to the nitty gritty of my feelings. There’s this desperation for romance that I have. It is the most pathetic shit ever. I have myself out here looking like an idiot to culture. To society. I’m doing all the things society says women shouldn’t do in pursuit of it, because I’m trying to challenge myself and these widely held beliefs about how women should show up romantically. I’m ‘chasing’. I’m ‘desperate’. I’m ‘doing too much’. But no one sees how brave it is to step outside your normal self and to humiliate yourself in attempts to connect. Why isn’t that brave anymore? Why is everyone such a fucking pussy?

I know the love I want exists because of how I love. Yet I haven’t experienced it yet. I want to meet the mirror version of me. And I know I ain’t perfect. I’m so fucking delusional and out of my mind and sometimes deranged, but my soul is pure. I just don’t think I ever will get that. I genuinely don’t. Not with the type of woman I am. And ESPECIALLY not with Black men. Maybe another race, I don’t know. I’ve been considering that, honestly. That is where I’m at with it.

People are always asking me, ‘You’re so pretty and brilliant and smart. Why are you single?’. And honestly, that question has begun to get to me. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not good at love. Maybe I’m a magnet for dismissive avoidant men who are not comfortable opening up. That has always been a pattern for me. Maybe I’m just not girlfriend or wifey material. Maybe I shouldn’t be dating anybody right now. I can’t tell you.

When I get in arguments with bitches and they throw the fact that they have a man in their life as an insult, sometimes I do feel insecure.

‘At least I can KEEP a man’. It stings. I always feel my face turning red, followed up with this sizzling, tingling sensation from the blood that is boiling underneath. I will no longer act like those seven words do not sting. While yes, most women who say that are being put through the wringer— at least they have a man that is THERE. Shit, I don’t have that. Niggas get tired of me. I irritate them too much with my thoughts. I’m ‘too masculine’. I’m ‘too rough’. I subconsciously internalized these thoughts and I don’t know… I am beginning to think that something is wrong with me. I am too defective. Too awkward. Too shy. A little too smart. A little too naive, as well. Too desperate, much as I tried to deny this. Slowly but surely, I am prepping myself for my single, fine auntie lifestyle. Because truth is, I do want to be validated by a man. I do. I do want to be picked. I do want to be chosen. But it seems so out of reach. Is that so bad?