When a "Good Man" Isn't Enough

Choosing myself, always.

Two months ago, I made the decision to end things with a man that I liked. He wasn’t a “bad guy”. He simply wasn’t my guy.

I came to the realization that the experience that he could offer me would require me to be less of the woman that I am, that I know myself to be. I would have to pretend that things didn’t matter to me that in reality did matter. Like flowers, and gifts, or appreciating the vastness of my being, my dynamism, my open-mindedness, my empathy- aspects of myself that I value most.

[“A man doesn’t have to buy me flowers. But he can if he wants to. I choose the man who wants to.”]

Early on, I found myself compromising in ways that were important to me. Shrinking myself in ways to be smaller in order to meet him where he is. I felt myself unconsciously dimming my light.

And I’ve been here before. I’ve been trapped in allowing myself to stay in a relationship dynamic with a man because I thought he was “a good man” but I wasn’t happy, or seen, or fulfilled. I was sacrificing myself, in important ways, the ways that women shouldn’t. And to no surprise that led to unhappiness, confusion, and disconnect.

Too often, as women, we’re conditioned to settle. To accept a man simply because he isn’t terrible, because he treats us “well enough”. We’re told that if he’s not actively hurting us, if he’s a “good man,” then we should hold on to him. But is a “good man” enough for a deeply fulfilling relationship?

For some women, yes and that’s perfectly okay.

Good character, integrity, kindness, respect — those are my bare minimums, not my reasons to stay. I want more than just good. I want great. I want expansive. I want a love that goes above and beyond.

Oftentimes, I’ve even been made to feel guilty for wanting more. “You’re insatiable,” they say. “Ungrateful, hard to please, your standards are too high. You don’t know how bad it really is out here, you should be more grateful.”

But if just being not horrible to women is enough to make a guy great, then I’d rather be alone.

In my solitude.
Where I can take up the space I was always meant to.
And do the things that make me feel alive.
And honor what I want, what I need, and what I am.

The things is, I don’t need someone to complete me.
I need someone who can see me.
Who can hold all of me.
And choose me anyway.
And if he can’t,
that’s fine,
I’ll keep choosing myself.