Waiting to Exhale Read Free Page A

imagine having a baby at forty. That's too old to be bringing anything into the world if you ask me.
    But let me shut up. If I was still able, the right man could probably talk me into having one at fifty. Anyway, when I get to Phoenix, I'm joining a health club and'll start doing aerobics and ride that bike I spent a fortune on and have only ridden around the block. So maybe by the time I quit smoking, I'll have already replaced one bad habit with a good one. Shit, I feel better already.
    After I finished both hands and started blowing on them, I was wondering: Is it really possible to want something so bad that you could make it happen just by thinking about it? I mean, could I just dream myself up a husband? Wouldn't it sort of be like praying? A long time ago, I asked God to please send me a decent man, and one by one, what I got was Robert, Cedric, Raymond, and Kenneth. Unfortunately, I left out some very important details: like how about a little compassion, some pride as opposed to cockiness, some confidence as opposed to arrogance. Now I'm more specific: Could You make sure he talks about what he feels and not just about what he thinks? Could he have a genuine sense of his purpose in life, a sense of humor, and could he already be what he aspired to? Could he be honest, responsible, mature, drug-free, and a little bit spontaneous? Could he be full of zest, good-enough-looking for me, and please let him be a slow, tender, passionate lover? It takes me forever to say my prayers these days, but I don't care, because this time around, I want to make sure God doesn't have to do any guesswork.
    The truth of the matter is, I've spent nine years of my adult life living with three different men that I'm glad I didn't marry because all three of them were mistakes. Back then, I felt like I had to live with them in order to find out that I couldn't live with them. However, I refuse to live with another one unless I'm married to him: That much I do know. I'll take my chances the next time around. People aren't so quick to call it quits when they're married. I'm also willing to spend the rest of my life alone if I have to, until I find someone that makes me feel like I was born with a tiara on my head. People like Sheila and Mama are beginning to make me feel as if I should be embarrassed or ashamed for not having a husband by now. Mama's got about ten empty pages in the family scrapbook set aside for my wedding pictures. At this point, they'd rather see me settle for some lackluster man with the right credentials: put my yearnings for love a little lower on the totem pole and just be done with it. But I can't do that. All I've got is one life, and this is one area that's too large for me to compromise.
    As a matter of fact, most of the men I've met over the last few years have been boring, selfish, manipulative, or weak. Worse than babies. Got an excuse for everything. Some were just plain lost. Of course the flip side is the die-hard buppies, who think that the true measure of success is how much money they make, what kind of car they drive, how big their house is, and how much pussy they can get before they die. Their priorities are all fucked up. And the more successful they are, the more arrogant they are. They've taken these stupid statistics about us to heart and are having the time of their lives. They do not hold themselves accountable to anybody for anything, and they're getting away with murder when it comes to women. And we let them. They lie to us without a conscience, they fuck as many of us at a time as they want to and then cry that "I'm not ready to make a commitment yet" bullshit as soon as you act like you're serious about them. They have done one helluva job convincing themselves-and a whole lot of us-that we should feel desperate, which is why so many of us are willing to do damn near anything to snag one of them. Well, not me. I don't need a man to rescue me or take care of me financially-I can take care of