It was the end of the day and steadily raining, and the cars in the parking lot were thinning out. There I was, trying to maneuver my car out of a bank, spraying mud everywhere, and looking like a complete dingbat. At one point, I got out of my car and attempted to push it up the bank myself. Surprisingly, my brawny frame and brute strength couldn't manage the job.
Around this time, two large guys pulled up near me in the parking lot. THEY WERE THERE TO HELP ME! When they approached me in the rain with eager - if amused - expressions, I could've probably planted two giant wet ones right on their mouths. But I didn't, which was probably for the best and more hygienic.
With the help of some fortuitously placed cat litter in the trunk of my car (ahem), we managed to rescue Oscar from the mud bank of doom. I drove off, effusively spouting out "thank you so much oh my gosh thanks but seriously thanks a lot for real" from my window.
So here's what I've learned from this: I'm needy. I need help. Hell, somedays I can't even make it out of the parking lot on my own. And I'd venture to guess that you need help, too.
Our culture urges women to identify primarily as self-reliant, independent, and tough-as-nails. Inherently, we are those things. I mean, if birthing children ain't tough, then I don't know what is.
But can this modern, self-reliant woman also be weak? In our strength, are we still allowed to receive help? Is there room for us to be both, to live in that tension? Sometimes, I don't think so. Perhaps this is just me, but it seems that in order to be the "right kind of woman," I must lie about weakness or tenderness; instead, silencing longings in my heart and steeling them with sarcasm.
I don't know exactly what I think of this, or how it relates to (not) dating. But I think it probably does. More later. <3
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