I guess I have always been a natural competitor.

I should have become the bodybuilder my beloved trainer of two years tried to turn me into, until I decided forget my body let me focus on a MAN!

I guess it’s that daddy complex, like pilates thats kept me twisted and bent out of shape.

Because neither one came easy to me. Something far fetched and out of reach, so the men. Oh yeah.

I learned early in life the less you gave them the more they gave you. I guess according to one of my childhood friends I had always been a boy with boobs, jumping over logs with the boys breaking more bones in all my unladylike behaviors.

I love video games. Especially the fighting ones. No one can beat me on those. I like some sports, but I love physical challenges. So yes it was fun learning to play ball when the time came for my long legs to put in work on a court. Talking about the latest underground hip-ho artist. I don’t think I paid much attention, but there was always something thought provoking I was able to add.

Anyway. Boy Friends. I had a lot. We kept it clean. Always. If you’re my friend thats all you can be. Unless too many years go by and we develop a mutual attraction that turns into a 4 year relationship, but I digress.

The guys seemed to love me. For whatever reason. My intellect

It was funny to me how I would gain the attention of the guys in question, the ones they wanted because, usually, I was not interested. I don’t go for the dude that everyone wants. I’m a closet nerd, so my guy has to be way smarter than I or the attraction will go away before it begins.

I get bored easily.

I want a man to be my head, and if his head is filled with less knowledge than I have I will not walk around feeling like the pants of the family if I have to carry the knowledge and apply it to wisdom. Too much work for a relationship when I gotta love, cook, clean and do other things to keep us going when the men often slack and fall off.

I guess that’s why I would ask the Father whether a man I am loving is one I can love for keeps. Before I even knew Him as well as I do now, He would always tell me no and they would be dismissed. Sometimes to return at a later date.

February 10, 2013 became my birthday. I was born again. I don’t really remember much about the old life except I hurt too many people pursuing men I would never love just to get under the skin of other women that would do anything for him to throw some attention their way. That was all about me. My inability to love me so I had to love someone that looked like they were loving me. It is a person’s innate natural inclination to be loved.

So I look back. My daughter is here in this world because a woman saw her father at my birthday party and said ooh he is cute. I looked over at him, and said who him? She nodded. See normally I would have let it go. She had almost been my homegirl until she sent me on a tirade claiming that my real boo was dealing with her friend because she just knew she saw him before. It was lies, but she had to pay since my guy had walked out the door from my frantic grabbing and pulling all but slapping him out of his drunken revelry to account for yet another regaled tale of him being caught up with yet another chick.

So I almost sat in my daughter’s father’s lap. My baby daddy. I hated that phrase. I was so careful all my life to make sure the first pregnancy I had was with my husband, but he was not. He wanted to be, but I didn’t really like him. I didn’t really like myself. I didn’t even know myself. I had spent so much time jumping from relationship to relationship, idolizing boyfriends even though I frowned my nose up at women who did the same thing that I was just a series of unfortunate events. I was the epitome of all the past relationships. My first love was Trinidadian so I thought I was a reggae fanatic. I think I just like to do the dutty wine. It whittles the waist away. But, he also was a hip hop enthusiast. I believe Mos Def aka Yasiin Bey became my favorite rapper because that was the first song we listened to together.

My whole life was a parade charade of seeming importance living and spending to pull the guy everyone else wanted, because then that would maybe validate my existence.

The funniest thing is the person that introduced me to the Holy Spirit was a man I thought was supposed to be more than who he was to me. I was curious. Until my curiosity wound up having me three months later being dragged from his car by my feet wrist being popped out of place because I was stepping outside the arrangement and he went well beyond the assignment. His purpose was to bring me to God. I was not like any he had met before, his words not mine, having a background that would make me a mixed breed Chi-town meets east coast. Chitown raised me basically made me but I got turned out in the bloody bean. Boston baby, threes for the stripes of the adidas that everyone wore, so yeah there was a lot more funky to my fresh. So he thought the difference was for me to be his personally.

Wrong! Epic Fail. Stop, Pause, Reload.

It was only to introduce me to God and leave me to find my way with Him alone. Last year at this time I was still a mess. I had so much cleaning up of my personality, my insecurities, my attitude and my bossiness. I am still a work in progress but I think my progress bar is at 53% now. And I thank God. Praise and Bless His Holy Name. Because I thought I would be doing the get down low for the rest of my life. On somebody, if not the dance floor. Anyway.

I am thankful. I don’t have any male friends these days. I am learning how to love myself, and women that are like me regardless of their background and I enjoy peace. No need to look over a shoulder, or check a page or two because the person I am with has not been assigned to me in the way I am forcing with my niceties, my erratic spending sprees and spontaneity to keep his mind off any of what I felt was no competition. No, I knew it was competition. I wouldn’t have felt the need to put in so much work when that is the man’s job to woo and pursue me.

I’m just thankful now. The last assignment I had trained me to understand that assignments don’t mean become wifey. It means tell him about the gospel of Christ and leave it there.

The person that comes, if someone ever comes, will not be talking of childish things like a wifey, but making plans to call me his wife.

I don’t compete for the guy everyone wants, because the one that God has for me is going to be MY perfect fit and that’s about all I want right now. What God has for me is for me, and that’s all I want.

So I sit here 4:10 am. A shadow of my past, because that day I used to celebrate the life I once had. April tenth nineteen eighty something. I forget. But now I celebrate everyday. The woman God is turning me into is a cause for celebration. I know I’ve broken a couple of hearts over the years, I apologize. Here’s a round of applause for making better choices akin to the best choices.

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