As a nurturer, I have the tendency to covet and consume my mates. For most of my life, I have believed in the now-comical mantra, You complete me. So there I was, looking for a man to complete me, giving him all of me in the hopes he would return the favor and make his every waking breath my own. With each boyfriend, I wanted to go where he went and do what he did, and I would make myself available day and night, without compromise. In one of my more intense relationships, I even canceled sections of my first book tour to follow my lover as he traveled the country. I was a no-show at Temple University and several other prestigious higher learning establishments, skipping speaking engagements just to be "completed" by him. He was a nocturnal creature and, though I cherished my sleep, I would force myself to stay awake in the wee hours of the morning to be with him, forsaking rest and comfort. I would hop atop his kitchen counter at four in the morning as he juiced fresh, organic vegetables and fruits and would never share in the nectar. I'd watch him drink. I just wanted to be near him. I just wanted to be "completed."
I lost myself in him and, ironically, began to resent him because he had his own life and I didn't! He didn't complete me after all! We even made a funny little saying that wound up not being the slightest bit funny: "You deplete me." That, ladies, is the sum of all parts when you cease being a singular individual before, and especially after, you are no longer single.
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