Recently, your mother and I were searching for an answer on Google. Halfway through entering the question, Google returned a list of the most popular searches in the world. Perched at the top of the list was “How to keep him interested.”
It startled me. I scanned several of the countless articles about how to be sexy and sexual, when to bring him a beer versus a sandwich, and the ways to make him feel smart and superior.
And I got angry.
Little One, it is not, has never been, and never will be your job to “keep him interested.”
Little One, your only task is to know deeply in your soul—in that unshakeable place that isn’t rattled by rejection and loss and ego—that you are worthy of interest. (If you can remember that everyone else is worthy of interest also, the battle of your life will be mostly won. But that is a letter for another day.)
If you can trust your worth in this way, you will be attractive in the most important sense of the word: you will attract a boy who is both capable of interest and who wants to spend his one life investing all of his interest in you.
Little One, I want to tell you about the boy who doesn’t need to be keptinterested, because he knows you are interesting:
I don’t care if he puts his elbows on the dinner table—as long as he puts his eyes on the way your nose scrunches when you smile. And then can’t stop looking.
I don’t care if he can’t play a bit of golf with me—as long as he can play with the children you give him and revel in all the glorious and frustrating ways they are just like you.
I don’t care if he doesn’t follow his wallet—as long as he follows his heart and it always leads him back to you.
I don’t care if he is strong—as long as he gives you the space to exercise the strength that is in your heart.
I couldn’t care less how he votes—as long as he wakes up every morning and daily elects you to a place of honor in your home and a place of reverence in his heart.
I don’t care about the color of his skin—as long as he paints the canvas of your lives with brushstrokes of patience, and sacrifice, and vulnerability, and tenderness.
I don’t care if he was raised in this religion or that religion or no religion—as long as he was raised to value the sacred and to know every moment of life, and every moment of life with you, is deeply sacred.
In the end, Little One, if you stumble across a man like that and he and I have nothing else in common, we will have the most important thing in common:
Because in the end, Little One, the only thing you should have to do to “keep him interested” is to be you.
Your eternally interested guy,
Happy International Women’s Day
IM CRYING IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS
I teared up. You got me.
Awww. That was beautiful, and important.
A tall, Blonde, hazel eyed Aryan Beauty walked into my Black-owned, professionally-hood barber shop today, greeted by a cascade of compliments, as each patron’s brown eyes followed her from the very moment she got out of her car.
She had successfully made it pass the dozen Brown Skinned Beauties…
And let me save some patriarchal heterosexual men some time here since this will be the reply: "It’s different for women because [insert sexism] [insert misogyny] [insert a theism] [insert a secular view that supports gender inequality] [insert inaccurate biological essentialism] [make some reference to egg count/menopause for women versus sperm count/ability to make sperm forever for men, which will be inherently cissexist] [insert misogynoir where if the woman is Black, she’s considered “dirty” regardless of sexual activity or not] [insert other unproven fuckery that reveals abysmal cognitive dissonance].”
And like, if she was “dirty” in his opinion prior to the sexual activity, why did he bother with it only to slander her later? Male privilege involves a great deal of cognitive dissonance.
knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit
wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad
That was deep
philosophy is wondering if that means ketchup is a smoothie
That was deeper.
common sense is knowing that ketchup isn’t a damn smoothie you nasty