I consider myself a strong, sophisticated, (and sometimes super silly) independent woman. You won’t find me sitting around complaining to my friends about the lack of men in my life. You don’t even really see me complaining about it on my blog. Yes, I recently decided I would like a boyfriend. There’s a world of difference between would like and need.

I don’t need a man.

Well, at least that’s what I used to think…. Last week I came to the disturbing realization that this long-held belief was a total sham!

Confession time, friends.

I have to be honest. There is one part of my life where I am precisely as strong and sophisticated as an angsty 14-year-old girl. It’s been all too clear (for years really) that I can’t handle it on my own. At least, thus far I’ve completely failed to handle it on my own, without a man in my life. One’s rescued me from my shameful plight pretty much every time!

What am I talking about? Well, I’m going to tell you, obviously. But-

First let me tell you what I’m NOT talking about. 

I’m from San Francisco. My friends and I talked about vibrators when we were in high school.

I don’t need a man to support me. I certainly do not make a lot of money. But I make enough to do just fine! I’ve never been attracted to a man because of his money. In fact, my history with men reveals the opposite….

I don’t need anyone to make me feel like a princess and I’m certainly no damsel in distress.

I’ve learned the tricks to open any jar no matter what my wrist strength. When I moved, I hired movers to carry all the heavy things.

I have amazing, awesome friends. I don’t need a man to keep me from being lonely.

I know that never works anyway. No one can make you happy with any consistency but yourself.

So what’s my problem? What am I talking about? Why am I freaking out about this supposed realization that I need a man?

I need a man to save me….from being a slob!

I guess I was wrong! I guess I am a damsel in distress. But who ever heard of a slobby damsel?

Okay, slob might be a bit of an exaggeration. I don’t need a man to keep myself clean. I shower every day, thank you! My clothes are perfectly clean! I don’t smell, I swear! There’s really just one aspect of my life where my slob tendencies show their true colors…. my boudoir. My bedroom is a mess. A pigsty, my father would say. I walk into my messy room and I can still hear my dad’s voice, “Mary Lane! Your room is a sty!”

Every time he said that, I’d know I should clean….and these days I know it even more…but…but…. then I just don’t. All the excuses later my room is still in disarray.

The only thing that seems to motivate me to clean my room with any regularity is….having a man in my life. I don’t want boys to think I’m a slob! So when there’s one in the picture…look! My room is totally clean! Works every time. Oh, a boy might be coming over this weekend? Hey there, spotless room!

Some girls don’t shave their legs to keep from sleeping with a guy too soon. I don’t have that problem. I can count on my room being too messy to invite any one over. Unless I have at least 2 hours in advance to clean. Yes, I let it get so bad it can take me TWO HOURS.

Why does it have to be a man? Why can’t I just invite a friend over? 

Because all my friends are used to me saying, “Hey, don’t look in my room, it’s a mess.” You’d think when my roommates’ parents visit, you’d think that would motivate me to clean. Nope. I just close my door and let them think I have weird privacy issues.

Trust me, the only motivation I’ve found that works every time is men! I NEED A MAN otherwise my room will always look like it was ransacked by hooligans!

You can find a surprising number of articles about creative people “flourishing in clutter“, that “it’s not a mess, it’s creativity“, and that “messy rooms make great ideas“! Which makes me feel better. At least I know WHY I am this way. But I’m tired of using it as an excuse. I’m strong and sophisticated, damn it! My room doesn’t need to be immaculate (that will never happen), it just needs to not be embarrassing! I can do this!

I don’t want to be the girl who needs a man for any reason. Nor do I want to be the girl who is secretly a slob.

So friends, I pulled myself together, got out the Swiffer and some garbage bags, and I did it. I cleaned my room. All on my own, for no other reason than no space I live in should remotely resemble the aftermath of a natural disaster. It’s nice, nice to come home to a room I’m not embarrassed about.

But can I keep it up? With out a man?

We’ll see. I figured blogging about it, admitting I have a problem, might help. I hope I can count on you all for support!