Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm a weirdo, freak, anti-feminist, 1950s wife-wannabe. Maybe. That's ok. I love the feeling of being safe and protected by a man. It feels real and secure and I don't think there's any comparable substitution.
I have lived alone. Like 100% alone. Well, I had a dog. Then 2 dogs. I was super broke and lived in an arguably sketchy (although I still disagree and think it was a really cute) area. I didn't have a man to protect me, and I survived just fine. I am in no way saying I need a man in my life. Hubby and I actually had this conversation last week. I don't need him, I choose to have him in my life, and I think that's far better.
I love that feeling of being hugged and held so tightly that you think you're going to melt into that person and become one weird, 2 headed, 4 armed, 4 legged double human creature. That makes me feel safe, secure, protected. Like I know he'll kill anything that tried to hurt me. Ok, maybe "kill" is a bit harsh, but definitely maim. Even just a hand, resting on the back of my neck, with a bit of pressure applied, works as a reminder of the safety and security he provides. I've never found a feeling quite like that anywhere else.
I have woken up in the middle of the night, mid-panic attack, and felt him wrap his arms around me and it has calmed me down in record time. Sure, I can handle the panic attacks on my own. I have in the past and I'm sure I will again in the future, but when he's there, I can settle them much faster.
Feeling him around me, protecting me (both literally and figuratively) from anything that might wish me harm...I can't really describe it. It's just the best thing to me. Like coming home after being gone for far too long. I try and instill that same feeling in my son. I think most parents do.
I realize that sometimes this sense of safety and security is a fallacy. When I lost our first baby, he held me for days. It didn't change anything, but it still felt so much better than when I was alone. Last October, on the first anniversary of the day we found out we were pregnant with the soon-to-be-lost baby, it was also the day I found out my uncle had passed away. He held me for hours. Again, there was nothing he could do to protect me from these things, but he did his best to keep me feeling safe. When I lost my job, he made a point to spend a little extra time just sitting with me and trying to solidify the feeling that I was still wanted and important (despite my former boss' ability to just toss me aside) and that he was there for me, to protect me from the world as best he can.
If you read this and think "oh, here's another chick that has been indoctrinated by the media and forced gender roles. She thinks she needs a man in her life to protect her." then you've completely missed the point. I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying I choose to have strong men in my life. I choose a husband that makes me feel safe even when my body is telling me I'm falling apart. I choose this. It isn't forced on me, and I don't require it. I want it. I can live without it; I have in the past. I choose to live with it. You don't have to.
As I used to tell my students all the time: Life is about choices. (Make good ones)
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Writer and Contributor for the Motherhood Community