I am a firm believer in learning how to love yourself. I take myself out, a lot. I give myself the space to vent, a lot. And I am always taking inventory to make sure that I am OK! A few days ago, I was off work, didn't have church and I figured it was a perfect day to love on me. So, I got dolled up and I headed into Hyde Park. I sat down in Chant with the intentions of being gluttonous in solace. I took my time ordering Scallops and Grits and as I figuratively sipped my tea, I happened to glance around. THERE WAS A WHOLE LOT OF ME IN THAT RESTAURANT. Sixty percent of the tables around me were filled with women, Black women. "What's the big deal, Mk? We, women, like to congregate over meals." I said to myself. I got my scallops and tried to ignore the abundance of reflections I had staring back at me. I successfully ignored the conversations I overheard about what men would and wouldn't do in marriage. I let the discussion about work frustrations float into thin air. And though, I thought I would be able to escape my solo date without feeling hopeless about the plight of the Black women, the table to my right just wouldn't let me. Midway through my Coconut Pineapple Sorbet, the table of gorgeous, seemingly successful women, noticed me. They had been discussing a man's relationship with some lady (not present at the table) for the majority of the meal, when the youngest of the group looked at me in pity. She caught me in the middle of a food orgasm and noted that it looked good. I laughed and reassured her that it was. And though my disposition was clearly jovial, her face remained sad. Catching a whiff of the conversation briefly occurring, the other women at the table all looked at me. And though I was cute, joyful, and full, their faces told me that I had something to fear. They smiled and shared a giggle with me, but as I paid my bill and headed out the door their demeanors changed. It was as if I could hear them thinking, "I remember when I used to do that."
On the bus ride home, I had to ask myself some real questions. Why did it bother me that so many women were in the restaurant without men. Why did these women look at me with pity? How did a solo date become a full blown inspection of the status of the Black woman? And as I looked out the window searching for answers in the Chicago blocks I passed, I remembered an article I read a few weeks back. The article was a How-To for a man dating an independent woman. So many things in that article reminded me of myself. But, the How-To made dating an independent woman sound like climbing Mount Everest. My solo date was a brilliant reflection of my independence. And I think it was a reminder to the women sitting to my right of theirs too. But should that have provoked sadness? I love my independence. Heck, I need my independence...right? The faces of the women at that table made me bite a hard bullet: too solo dates will lead to female bashing dinners. I don't want my future BF to fight the battle of dating a woman so used to being with herself that she can't be with a man. I don't want so many nice dates alone that I can't appreciate a cheap date with the guy who makes me happy. Although my independence is important to me, if it comes with the clause of me sitting at a table at 35 bashing men, count me out. In this year of being single I have learned that sometimes women can put our feet in our mouths. We say statements like I don't need a man, and then wonder why the men we want never find us. We perpetually date ourselves and then get confused about why men think we are taken. After my date, I stopped by Akira to wait for my bus and bother my coworkers. Some of my guy friends there laughed about how I was a woman that came with responsibility. And I agreed. I don't want to date any old joe. I want my future him to know that a relationship requires work. But I don't want him to think that he is entering a relationship with a girl who is already taken.
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More About MkMk is 23 year old Chicagoan. She attended Howard University in Washington, D.C., studying English. Now back in Chicago, Mk has focused on writing her truths. Outside of ATS, she also writes on Youth Alert, a blog for young Christian believers. Mk is also a stylist at Akira Hyde Park. When she isn't working on the Mag, Youth Alert, or at Akira, Mk is with her family, she spends her time with a good book or cooking.
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