Ideal Match: An independent girl with her own likes and interests.

I see some derivative of this in at least 60% of online profiles I view and I bet they mean it, until they meet one of us. Just because we are independent doesn’t mean we aren’t serious about what and who we do. It means we are twice as serious as everyone else. We have to be two people, so doubling our investment in how we spend our time is crucial to our success. We are responsibility junkies and we have our shit handled, thank you. We can probably help you with yours too.

Because independence comes at a cost, we will fight every step to keep it.

I worked hard to teach myself I should only rely on the handful of people who genuinely love me to help out when I need it, and to be clear about NEED vs. this is tough, I could use an extra set of hands. I’ve learned how to handle a myriad of home repairs, can finish drywall like a pro, and cut and split most of my own firewood. Hot, right? Maybe not so much…

Independence can find you crying in the back yard, picking yourself up and carrying on, wondering all the while if it’s really worth the trouble. It wasn’t easy to get here, and it’s still difficult some days to remain. Independence is not always pretty and it doesn’t always shave. It definitely eats ice cream right from the tub while wearing old sweat pants.

The worst thing I encounter dating is the guy (seeking an independent woman) who wants to help before he even knows if he wants to care. Insists he will fix this or that, or will offer to buy you a couch after knowing you a week….wtf is this? A couch? Dial it back a notch please. I’ll pick out my own couch, since I’ll probably be sitting on it alone.

Independent girls will decline, counter, and possibly gift away their first born child to avoid relying on your questionable ass. We worked hard to get here and we don’t need your disingenuous support.  When you push that help on us, a little built of our wall crumbles and you get a foot in. Since fixing our shit is akin to the mating dance of the peacock spider, we start to think you might be genuinely interested. If you are one the ‘I really don’t know what I want’ brigade, you leave a hole that we have to repair. We have to hunt down, kill and hang our independence back on the wall, usually after we spend too much of our downtime wondering why we ever let you help in the first place.

A friend of mine last year told me I need to be vulnerable to find the right relationship. I need to admit I need help. This idea creates a juxtaposition I’m ill-equipped to deal with. I do need help, more often than I will admit, but wonder if there is a limit to how many times I can regain my independence?

It’s firmly intact for now, still carelessly running with scissors…

But seriously, quit fucking with us.