You did not come when I called you.

And I know… I know that in the same breath I beckoned you with, I told you not to step forward.

It would appear that my overtly sure steps said I didn’t need you. My confidence bellowed, “I’ve got this.”

My refusal to step toward you even as I asked for your step toward me… well that probably hinted at a leverage I would not release… a power I could not let be yours.

To the Man Who Never Arrived…

I get it. I understand now.

How could you step toward me in the radiance of your power and strength if I refused to make room for all that you are?

How could you truly want a woman whose every hint was that she didn’t need you?

I understand now. And I want you to know:

That my sure steps were actually wary, fearful ones – because I did not trust where I was going. My confidence was a mask I wore to maintain power – because the last time a man had more power than me, I didn’t make it home.

My refusal to step toward you was actually me on my knees… begging for someone kind enough to step toward me first.

Because I’m too scared. Too wounded. Too long alone now that the slightest of your turning away – once I make that fateful step forward – might crush me.

I am still too newly put together to risk that. And so I have fought to not let you know that I am weak. I have fought to seem strong. But I give up now. And I am asking you to embrace me. Surround me. Take me.

Because I cannot yet walk where I desperately need to go. But I can be swept up and carried. I am not asking to be saved. Just asking for a partner who can lead the dance… who will approach a shy wallflower who just got really good at looking aloof.

I will not need to be carried indefinitely. When we touch back down I will walk on my own two feet. And walk I will, right by your side, down whichever path we discover.

To the Man I Now Welcome…

Thank you. I know you’re out there. I know you will find me. And I will welcome you with open arms.