Learning to Need a Man aka What's Wrong With Me.

This morning, I cried in yoga. I haven't done that since my agent dumped me. That was five years ago. This cry. Was a good cry. (Although, I could tell it made my fellow yoga-ites just as uncomfortable as a bad cry). Me? I didn't care. I was ecstatic. Because I got it. I finally got it. What all this has been about. What I learned. What I didn't know how to do. And how there was no other way for me to learn it. I had to hit rock bottom before I could learn how to need a man. And that needing one was okay. Because one would be there. And in some cases, even more than one. That's a beautiful thing. Shocking and beautiful. Shit, I'm crying again.

A month or so ago, I was having a breakdown and I called Steve. Kelly was sitting there on the couch. But I called Steve. I was tired of talking about what was wrong to one of my girlfriends. I always talked about things with the girls. I wanted a man, needed a man to hold me while I cried. I didn't want to figure it out. I just wanted to be held. That's never happened to me before. Kelly said that she used to go to her dad for that kind of comfort when she was growing up. I could never do that. My dad was usually the reason I was crying. And that's how I learned not to need a man. I couldn't. Because he wasn't there when I needed him for what I needed him for.

Sure, there was the financial stuff as well. Feeling like I had to take care of myself. And not really having a choice. I couldn't depend on anyone else. So I didn't. That's what both my mom and dad taught me. So I worked my ass off. I didn't want to have need someone. Now my sister and me? She worked-- but not now she doesn't. We're totally opposite. She blamed my mother for my dad leaving us. So she never felt let down by men. She never took it on. (Of course, my dad never said the shit to her that he said to me which made it easier, but still...). She moved on because she never took it on. She didn't think there was something wrong with her. That she had to juggle, tap dance, make a million and look like a supermodel just to get a man to love her. Maybe that's why she's married has children and has never worked for $10 an hour over the age of 16.

Me? I'm 38 years-old. I've slept with guys I'm dating, woken up early in the morning and gotten ready just so they wouldn't see what was wrong with me. I dated one guy who had a bad eye-- and I always on slept on that side of the bed. Just in case. I thought it couldn't hurt. I was always waiting for men to leave. Or tell me what's wrong with me. And they did. Time after time after time. Confession (as if the rest of it isn't one): I'm 38 years-old and have never been introduced as someone's girlfriend. I've also never had a man tell me he loves me. And you've got to admit, that's a pretty weird thing for a 38 year-old woman unless she's never left the house. I'm sure alot of it is my fault. Actually, I know it is. And as messed up as it is, I'm actually happy about it. Because I get it now.

Sure it's still painful. I just read on IMDB that one of my good friends pre-career meltdown, a good friend I cried with over being lonely at 33 years-old is now stepping down from her job as the head of comedy at a network to be a mom. Five years ago we were both crying and now she's married and just had a baby. My agent? Same thing. Sure, she was my agent, but we had a friendship based on being single and not wanting to be.

I remember one time the ex-convict told me that I was "a career girl", so I should just "work hard, make money and get my rocks off." I remember thinking what a horrible thing that was to say. As if that's all I wanted out of life. What had I done to make him think that's all I wanted? Actually, that's the better question. Not that he wanted me to need him and not that he would have been there for me. But maybe if I had let him know a little earlier that there's more to me than that. That I needed, too--maybe he would have never said that at least. Not that he would have stayed. But still. How is it possible to be so close to someone and have them never know what you need? Does this make sense? Sorry, but I'm a little excited about this epiphany so I'm kind of on a roll here.

See, a few of the men-- like Brian? He knew what I wanted and what I needed. And he gave it to me when I was down. Friendship. Support. Kindness. Encouragement. Steve? He built shit. I've never had a man build shit for me. And he held me. I even fell asleep on him while he held me. (Although I did worry in the morning that he thought I was crazy and called him to make sure he didn't think so. Which he might have. But still... there was fear. I'm trying to let go of the fear). So my old boss helping me? That was another man who gave me what I needed when I needed it and understood me when I told him what I felt. All of these men have seen me broken, flawed and pretty much know everything that's wrong with me-- well, almost everything. And still, they gave me what I needed. And seeing this, knowing this... Well, I've never been so happy in my entire life.