A Web Portal For Lesbians Of Color
During my youth, Love will be my teacher; in middle age, my help; and in old age, my delight. — The Broken Wings by Kahlil Gibran
Here I sit, another Valentine’s Day and I am alone; but not lonely. I still have the memories of loves once enjoyed — all of them — and the fantasies of what can be.
In the hall, between my bedrooms, hangs a sign that states:
Although . .
I am alone a lot
It’s not a lot of loneliness
But I will admit –
I want and need a woman
A woman who understands
What loving, sharing and caring
Is all about
Or if she does not know
At least be willing to learn
And until I find
The type of woman
I want and need
I’d rather live without
Than be a victim of love abuse
And have my heart turned inside out
For two women
Living together – doesn’t
Always make a happy home
And I can be unhappy
By myself – alone and on my own
It is not that I am shying away from love or mulling over some hurt feelings from loves’ past; no, in actuality, as I look out over the landscape of perception many women are now living out their lives as life imitating art. What many women state they want in or from a partner is material, a certain look, a particular complexion, a specific size or height, and in some cases, a certain level of education, all or any of the above or more are representative of suitable prerequisites to love.
I often reminisce about the “good ole days” when none of the above prerequisites entered into the equation for love. Ahhh, those days of spring when you looked over and saw someone who made your heart and soul leap with joy. Her very presence caused you to smile uncontrollably. You could not sleep waiting for the sun to rise on a new day when you would see her again. Then, you had no restrictions on love; you accepted love however it came.
Now, we have instilled fears in ourselves and others — am I tall enough? Am I rich enough? Am I pretty enough? Am I educated enough? Do I drive the right car? Do I wear the right clothes? Does she see me as Butch or Femme? Butches don’t approach other butches and femmes don’t approach other femmes and what is that about anyway?
Love and relationships have become more difficult than need be. I wish I could walk into a room and see that woman across the way that makes my heart leap for joy. I would wish to have a simple conversation with her that would not entail what I do, what I make, where I live or the model car I drive. I would want to enjoy her smile as we engage in small talk. I would want to enjoy her laughter as we share a joke. I would want to dance with her and feel her warmth. I would want to enjoy every moment of her for as long as the universe gives us time to do so and I would not care if we were only to share a few intimate moments, or a lifetime of pleasures.
"And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course." -- Kahlil Gibran
Too many controls, too many restrictions, too many missed opportunities for happiness. The Glad Woman meets Ms. Saran Wrap and their relationship becomes plastic, transparent and empty. I can truly be unhappy by myself.
For me, a perfect mate is someone who can spend a day with me naked, both figuratively and literally, completely exposed to one another and vulnerable. Too often we are expected to be perfect and strong and never, never vulnerable. I need to be vulnerable sometimes, I need to experience the dark nights of the soul so that I might grow and learn from my mistakes. During those times, I don’t necessarily need someone telling me what I could or should do, I may only need someone to hold me and tell me “it’s going to be alright.” I do not expect my mate to be "Superwoman" either. I would want to be there for her through her dark nights as well that we may grow together.
A perfect mate for me would be someone totally uninhibited. I would love someone who does not view lovemaking as being performed a right way or wrong way. I want a Barry White “making love for hours and hours and hours” kind of lovemaking. I want the art, the sensual pleasures, and the love. I’m not interested in just chasing orgasms and the labels kinky, nasty, makes love like a man, makes love like a woman, dirty, freaky, etc., are not important. After a day of work in the world of business; I want to have one private joy to come home to, to get lost in, to behold and venerate.
A perfect mate for me does not need me to fill her cup of life. Her cup is full and she wants me in her life to enhance it. In that way, when we are apart there will be no jealousy, no envy, no worry, no fear, we are sure of ourselves and confident in our relationship. She, the words to my music and I, the music to her words and apart, she is a cappella and I am instrumental – we won’t need each other to define each other.
Kahlil Gibran once wrote, “If I cannot be your friend, then I’ll have to content myself in being your lover.” A perfect mate for me would be my best friend. In that space of friendship is where I have found the most love. A friend is someone who will watch your back – your gatekeeper – and regardless of the argument you had last night, they will still rise like a century and deny access to those intent on hurting you. I want my lover to be my best friend as I will be hers. In spite of the many arguments, the broken glasses or dishes, the cold food, the toothpaste, or my passionate Taurean outbursts, she will still be there for me as I will be there for her.
So, you see, I cannot say I want someone older or younger, rich or poor, car or no car, light or dark, visually impaired or visually capable, a size 18 or a size 4, educated or not, butch or femme, smoking or non-smoking, vice president or secretary, lawyer or doctor, political or non-political, dreading or permed – any one of the above could possess the qualities I seek in a mate. Unfortunately though, many women have not spent time with themselves to know what they really want in a mate; so I am alone – but I am not lonely.
So, on this Valentine’s Day, I will spend time indulging myself with a bubble bath, a good book, Lorez Alexandria and Coltrane, a glass of wine, and sweet memories because I can be unhappy or happy by myself and, one thing I have learned over the years, I am damn good at loving me.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Let there be space in your
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each others cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not to near together;
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.
From The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
 The poem “Honesty,” by Otis O’Sullivan, was written to describe a woman’s feeling of being alone without a man. I have changed the words here to express my feelings.