I know what I want. I’ve been praying for it, waiting for it, wondering why it feels so hard to find. But the ones I know have it? They’re never single. And if they are, it’s not for long.
Still, I’ve learned that having something rare doesn’t always mean knowing how to use it. Whether it’s strength, size, protection, provision—none of it means anything if it’s not given with care. I’ve seen men who had everything, yet they never made anyone feel safe or seen. They knew their worth, but they only used it to keep people at arm’s length, to dangle just enough to keep women coming back, but never enough to truly belong to anyone.
One of my exes was exactly like that. He had it, and he knew it. He kept women wrapped around his finger, not with love, not with loyalty, but with the illusion of something more. He was a provider, but only when it benefited him. A protector, but only when it served his image. A lover, but never someone who truly gave himself. And I refuse to fall for that again.
At the same time, I understand the frustration men feel. They don’t want to be treated like ATMs, just like I don’t want to be treated like a prize to be won. No one wants to feel like they’re just filling a role—whether that’s being a provider, a protector, or a pleasure-giver. We all want to be wanted for who we are, not just for what we can do.
I don’t want someone who just checks the right boxes. I want someone who values my presence as much as I value his. Someone who doesn’t just show up when he’s needed, but because he wants to be there. I want a connection where neither of us feels like we have to earn our place—because we already belong.
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