Category Archives: Step 11

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Just Fine With Just Me

I’m rather fond of my name – particularly my middle name, Aurora. It means “the dawn” and my parents found it rather amusing that I would be “AuROARing Tigar”, but the idea to scribble it on my birth certificate came from my dad. He claimed to have an Aunt Aurora on his mother’s side but later discovered he didn’t. So, I’m named after an aunt I don’t really have.

Never bothered me though, I was more excited as a child that I had a royal name – Sleeping Beauty’s official title is Princess Aurora, and therefore she instantly became my favorite. I knew all the songs, had a dress that switched from pink to blue, and wanted more than anything for my prince to come.

Funny thing is – probably up until I moved to New York, I still roughly knew the songs, had pink and blue dresses and still badly wanted my banker-doctor-lawyer prince to find me. To rescue me even from the exhaustion of going on yet another date with another guy who I ultimately wouldn’t be interested in or would be and it would be unrequited. Though I was barely 21 wen I packed up and left the South, I had been on what I thought were enough dates and just wanted to wake up from the deep sleep of loneliness I felt like I was in.

If I’m being honest, I didn’t shake that feeling of wanting happily ever after until I really starting focusing on this blog and this journey. And then I started meeting women I admired – women who were older than me and wildly successful and….single. It didn’t seem to faze them, though – they were focused on other things. Things that brought them tremendous happiness, things that they created for themselves, thing that made up a lifestyle they loved.

And it didn’t involve men. They weren’t against men, but dudes certainly weren’t necessary either. There was no need to be rescued. Evil stepmothers could be tamed with distance and financial independence. If they wanted to live in a whole other world, they could get there by taxi or train, no need for a magical rug that would probably need to be dry cleaned, anyway. They weren’t held captive under the ocean or a castle, and if they were under any spells, it was merely the curse of being beautiful, successful and independent.

They weren’t princess and neither am I. Sure there are some modern-day fairytales (enter Kate Middleton) but those are very few and far between. Even Ms. Duchess didn’t need to be rescued, she just happened to fall in love with someone who happened to be a prince. And these women who I’ve developed strong friendships with, some have since gained a plus-one but they haven’t lost themselves in the process. They have given me the confidence and the knowledge to stop looking for someone charming to free me from singleness. To never depend on a man for anything and to count his presence as a blessing if he’s a good one, or his absence also a a blessing if he’s a bad one. To realize that really, the best kind of happily ever after we can find has absolutely nothing to do with a guy.

In fact the best happy I’ve felt has always come from accomplishing something on my own. By finally getting that dream job (yes indeed!), by severing any dependence from my parents, and living in a city I love.  No man made those things a reality, I did. And should a man never come into my picture or Mr. Possibility bite the dust like the others, I know I’d still have something quite powerful to depend on. Something unstoppable and relentless. Something that took a long time to find, something that took hard work to develop, and something that brings me peace in the places I need it the most. Something that regardless of what happens or where my life goes or who I marry or don’t marry, what job I find or what job I lose, will always remain a constant.

Something that I’ve always loved, even if at times I couldn’t find confidence in it. Something that’s most simply – me. And if I happen to live happily-ever-after alone, then I’ll spend my life helping others, having incredible sex with lovers who won’t offer me a diamond, building an empire, adopting babies like I’m Angelina sans-Brad, and realizing that I’m just fine with just me.

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What it Means to Me

I’ve been attempting to sing like Aretha Franklin since I first heard Respect. I guess I was destined to belt it to the best of my abilities because I am my mother’s daughter – each time it was included as “The Best Mix of the 80’s, 90’s and Today!”, she’d turn the volume up sky high and car dance. She does the same thing with Gretchen Wilson’s Redneck Woman, but that’s another post.

During my run around the Jackie O reservoir today, Respect came up in my mix and it took every ounce of dignity in me not to dance along. Of course, I have listened to the lyrics countless times and sang along with every opportunity I’ve had – but I never taken the time to actually process what Ms. Franklin was singing.

She’s asking for respect when she comes home. And you know what – I don’t blame her but I’ve also never asked for much respect from the men I’ve dated. Including the possibility that is quite impossible at times.

Respect isn’t something that you necessarily ask for but sometimes you do have to spell it out for guys. Or really – show them that it’s something you not only expect, but will demand if it’s not given to you. It’s a funny thing in itself – you’d think the person you’re with or a guy you’d ultimately see yourself with until death parts you, would show their respects from day one.

But it’s not always that easy, is it?

Your partner should be among your best friends – you should be able to trust them, to communicate effectively and calmly, to make decisions together that serve both of you the best, and relate on levels of similarity that you share. And if you’re a good friend (which I’m assuming you are) – you know that respecting your friends is important to healthy friendships. If they don’t like to discuss personal topics with the rest of your group, you don’t. If something you like to do makes them uncomfortable, you find ways to accommodate. And if they’re unhappy, you would never deliberately or indirectly do anything to make it worse. Respecting someone is listening to them – and while we’d like to think we listen to our guys and they listen to us – that isn’t always true.

Because something changes when someone is your mate. You’re more intimate with them. You feel more vulnerable. You expect more and you get disappointed easier by their choices or actions. You depend on them and you should respect them like they respect you. But that respect is difficult when your emotions are so tightly bound to the things they say and do. You want them to hurt – as awful and immature as that sounds – as much as you do if you’re in a heated argument. You’d like to think you put their interests above your own and you care about them unconditionally -but relationships are conditional. People and things changes, but if things change people into people you don’t want to do things with, then you don’t stay. If you’re not feeling respected, you know it’s time to make some moves.

To be someone who is respected, you have to first and foremost respect yourself. You have to be strong and brave enough to say when enough is enough. You have to be sturdy to stand alone and confident to walk away if you’re not getting what you know you deserve. You have to voice your wishes and your needs to have them met.

You have to love yourself enough to know that while love and romance is ideal, respect is what makes a relationship more than a Facebook-worthy status change. Respect is what changes a comfortable relationship into a stable, healthy one and a common couple into supporting partners.

What it means to me is more than just asking for a little bit of respect. It’s asking for a lot of it and not just when I get home – but always. You can love me better than anyone else, but if you don’t respect me, I’ll never love you because I can’t respect you in return.