Can I Have Some Fries With That?

“Do I look like a biscuit to you? DO I LOOK LIKE A BISCUIT TO YOU??!!! Do I look like some french fries?  Then why are you trying to play me like a side order?”  — Havilland Savage – Hav Plenty, c. 1997.

Side orders, side pieces, chicks on the side, all variations on the same theme.  They are scorned, disdained, frowned upon, and reviled by most women – particularly women in so-called monogamous relationships.  Songs, movies and books tell their stories, which are usually ones of shame, rejection, despair and sometimes even insanity.  After all, only someone worthless, pathetic and/or crazy would want a man who has another woman.  Right? 

Exhibits 1-3:  1) “Saving All My Love for You,” – Whitney Houston singing the song of a pitiful and needy side piece, 2) “Fatal Attraction” – the movie with Glen Close as the psycho side order who would not be ignored; and 3) Monica’s Story –  the book about the rise and fall of the most famous side dish of all, Ms. Monica Lewinsky. 

It seems side orders never get the happy ending.  They are never satisfied.  They don’t have fulfilling lives outside of their imaginary relationship and all they long for – their one mission in life, is to become the main course.   Alas, the side order never gets the man.  And if she does, it’s just an empty triumph.  For no man truly wants the side piece once he has her.  See, “Jungle Fever” c. 1991.  Chicks on the side are doomed for meaningless and unfulfilling romances that are centered around nothing other than sex and exploitation.  Anyone who dates a man who is dating others is a sad excuse for a woman and should demand more for herself.  Right?

This brings to mind an article in Ebony (or Essence) back in the 90’s about the so-called man shortage amongst Black professional women and how it spawned the phenomenon of “man sharing.”  The article made me bristle with mid-twenties indignation.  I turned my 26 year old nose up in disgust.  How could any woman settle for a man who has another woman, or other women?  Any woman who consented to such a relationship has low self-esteem and even lower standards! Right?

Well, it’s about 14 years later, and since then, I’ve loved a little more and lived a lot more, and now I’m starting to wonder if all of those declarations are actually wrong.  Some might say that time and experience has jaded me, or eroded my resolve, even lowered my standards.  But to that, I say no, I’m neither jaded, nor irresolute – my priorities have just changed.  Back in the days when I looked at the so-called “man-sharers” as pitiable idiots with no self-worth, I had nothing but time on my hands.  Precious time that I was willing to devote to a man – the right man.  Hell, even the wrong man, as evidenced by my failed relationships since then.  I had nothing but time that I wanted to invest in a relationship.  I had time to spare.

Well now, I am reconsidering my position on this issue.  And I think there’s something to be said for not wanting to have full-fledged ownership in a relationship.  Now don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying I would carry on with married men, like with Whitney’s song, Glen’s character, or the world’s most famous intern.  I do not condone infidelity, or believe that there are excuses for cheating.  But what I am a proponent of, is the lost art of dating.  And it is a lost art.  Dating someone amongst other people can be a wonderful thing.  It’s like licensing as opposed to transfer; renting as opposed to owning. 

With ownership come responsibilities, expectations and obligations.  In column A)  we have:  “Where are you?” “When will you be back?” “I’m coming over” “Who’s going with you?” “Why are you wearing that?” “Who is he?” “Why didn’t you call?” “We need to talk” – All questions and demands that come along with the expectations of ownership.

With renting come possibilities and light-heartedness.  In column B) we have:  “Can I see you this weekend?” “Will you be free?” “Can I call you sometime? ” “Are you busy?” “Is this a good time?” “Do you  mind if I come in?”  “Would you like some company?” And these are all all rental questions.  And I have to say that where I am right now, I’m in more of a column B) state of mind.

Like I said, I don’t condone cheating, or lying, or anything less than full-disclosure of all parties, and while I choose to supplant the term “man-sharing” with “dating,” it all boils down to the same thing.  I’m not settling, or bitter, as one might surmise.  I’m just at the point in my life where I can enjoy a man’s company without seeing china patterns, white picket fences and baby booties dancing in my head.  I’m secure enough to wave goodbye to him at the end of the night.  Because there’s something to be said for a brother that drops me off at my door and goes home.  There’s something to be said for missing someone.  There’s something to be said for looking forward to seeing him again.  There’s something to be said for having the house to myself.  And there’s definitely something to be said for me investing some, if not all of the aforementioned time that I used to have in vast abundance, in me.   

This doesn’t mean that if I meet Mr. Right (again?) that I will not fall head-first into column A) and be in full-on commitment-mode.  But for right now, I’m okay with being the fries that go with that shake.