Act like a lady, think like a man (2 page)

This is certainly how it worked for me. I’ll never forget how disappointed, frustrated, and unhappy I was when, in my early twenties, I was laid off from the Ford Motor Company. I was already a college dropout, and now, without a job, I hardly had enough money to take care of myself, much less a family. This left me unsure of my future—what I was going to do, how much I was going to make, and what my title would be. The titles “college graduate” and “Ford inspector” were gone; having no job pretty much meant that my chances of bringing home a good paycheck were zero; and I hadn’t a clue how I was going to make money. It took me a while to find my footing.

I dabbled in various jobs: I owned a carpet cleaning business; I sold carpet; I sold Amway products, the Dick Gregory Baha-mian Diet, and ALW Insurance and Commonwealth Insurance.

It was madness what I was doing to try to get my life together.

Finding someone serious to settle down with was the absolute last thing on my mind.

Then, one night a woman for whom I used to write jokes encouraged me to go to a local comedy club and sign up for amateur night. See, I knew I was funny, and I made a few dollars—very few dollars—writing material for up-and-coming local comedians who were trying to find their way into the industry. But I hadn’t a clue, really, how to go about getting into the business for myself. Still, this woman saw something in me and told me to take the stage.

So I did. And I killed. I won $50—which today may not seem like a lot of money, but when I was broke at that time, it felt like $5,000—for telling jokes. I also was guaranteed an-

other fifty dollars if, as the winner, I opened the following week’s amateur night competition. The next day, I went to a printer and spent fifteen dollars of my winnings on business cards that, along with my phone number, read: Steve Harvey.

Comedian. They were flat and flimsy and didn’t have any raised lettering, but those business cards announced that I was Steve Harvey (who I am), and that I had a special talent in comedy (what I do). How much I was going to make remained to be seen, but at least I had the “who I am” and the “what I do”

lined up.

If men aren’t pursuing their dreams—if we’re not chasing the “who we are,” the “what we do,” and the “how much we make,” we’re doomed. Dead. But the moment that we figure out the puzzle and feel like our dreams are taking shape, new life breathes into us—it makes us vibrant, enthuses, and ani-mates us. From the moment I became a comedian, I stepped onto that stage ready to be the very best.

Even today, no matter how tired I am, no matter what is going on in my life, I am never late for work, and I’ve never once missed a gig. Why? Because when I wake up, my dream is in check; I’m living it out live and in color every day, whether it’s on the radio during the
Steve Harvey Morning Show,
or on television with my various projects, or onstage, during my
Steve
Harvey Live
shows. Who I am is certain—I’m Steve Harvey.

What I do is certain: comedy. And how much I make is right in line with what I’ve always wanted for my family and me.

And now, I can pay attention to my family. All the faux paint in my house, the metal ceilings, the leather chairs, the dogs outside, the cars in the yard, college tuition for my kids—everything is paid for, everyone is set. I can provide for them the way I’ve always wanted to, I can protect them the way that I was raised to, and in my family’s eyes, I am, unquestionably, a man. Which means I have a clear mind when I go to sleep at night.

This is the drive that every man has, whether he’s the best player in the NBA, or the best peewee football coach in rural Minnesota; whether he’s the head of a Fortune 500 company, or the supervisor on the line at the local bakery; whether he’s the kingpin of a major cartel, or the chief corner boy on the block. Encoded in the DNA of the male species is that we are to be the provider and the protector of the family, and everything we do is geared toward ensuring we can make this happen. If a man can afford a place to stay, then he can protect his family from the elements; if he can afford a pair of sneakers for his child, he can feel confident enough to send him or her to school feeling secure and upbeat; if he can afford meat at the grocery store, then he can feel assured that he can feed his family. This is all any man wants; anything less, and he doesn’t feel like a man.

Even more, we want to feel like we’re number one. We want to be The Best somewhere. In charge. We know we’re not going to be head man in every situation, but somewhere in our lives, we’re going to be the one everyone answers to because it’s that important to us. We want the bragging rights—the right to say, “I’m number one.” Women don’t seem to care about this so much. But for us men? It’s everything. After we’ve attained that, it’s critical that we can show off what we get for being number one. We have to be able to flaunt it, and women have to be able to see it—otherwise, what’s the use of being number one?

You need to know this because you have to understand a man’s motivation—why he’s not home, why he spends so much time working, why he’s watching his money the way he does.

Because in his world, he’s being judged by other men, based on who he is, what he does, and how much he makes. That affects his mood. If you know he’s not where he wants to be or not on track for being where he wants to be, then his mood swings at the house will make more sense to you. Your inability to get him to sit and just talk now makes sense. His “on the grind”

mentality becomes more clear to you. Really, it’s all tied to the three things that drive him.

So if this is on his mind, and he hasn’t lined up the who he is, the what he does, and the how much he makes in the way that he sees fit, he can’t possibly be to you what he wants to be. Which means that you can’t really have the man you want.

He can’t sit around talking with you, or dream about marriage and family, if his mind is on how to make money, how to get a better position, how to be the kind of man he needs to be for you.

In my experience, these facts don’t always sit well with most women. Many of you figure that if a man truly loves you, the two of you should be able to pursue your dreams together. Sta-bility is important to you, but you’d rather build the foundation of your relationship together, no matter the man’s station in life.

This is honorable, but really, it’s not the way men work. His eye will be on the prize, and that prize may not necessarily be you if he isn’t up where he wants to be in life. It’s impossible for us to focus on the two—we’re just not that gifted, sorry.

Mind you, a man doesn’t have to make a lot of money right now; as long as he sees his dreams being realized—the title is clear to him, his position is leading him in the direction of the place where he wants to be, and he knows the money will come—then he can rest a little easier, recognizing that he’s on the verge of becoming the man he wants to be. The way you can help him get there is to help him focus on his dream, see the vision, and implement his plan. If you can see yourself in that plan (you can get a clearer sense of this in my chapter “The Five Questions Every Woman Should Ask Before She Gets in Too Deep”), then latch on to it. Because when he reaches the level of success he’s hoping to reach, he’ll be a better, happier man for it—and you will be happy, too.

2  O u r  L o v e  I s n ’ t  L i k e Y o u r  L o v e

Nothing on this planet can compare with a woman’s love—it is kind and compassionate, patient and nurturing, generous and sweet and unconditional. Pure.

If you are her man, she will walk on water and through a mountain for you, too, no matter how you’ve acted out, no matter what crazy thing you’ve done, no matter the time or demand. If you are her man, she will talk to you until there just aren’t any more words left to say, encourage you when you’re at rock bottom and think there just isn’t any way out, hold you in her arms when you’re sick, and laugh with you when you’re up. And if you’re her man and that woman loves you—I mean really loves you?—she will shine you up when you’re dusty, encourage you when you’re down, defend you even when she’s not so sure you were right, and hang on your every word, even when you’re not saying anything worth listening to. And no matter what you do, no matter how many times her friends say you’re no good, no matter how many times you slam the door on the relationship, she will give you her very best and then some, and keep right on trying to win over your heart, even when you act like everything she’s done to convince you she’s The One just isn’t good enough.

That’s a woman’s love—it stands the test of time, logic, and all circumstance.

And this is exactly how you all expect us men to love you in return. Ask any woman what kind of love she wants from a man, and it will sound something like this: I want him to be humble and smart, fun and romantic, sensitive and gentle, and, above all, supportive. I want him to look in my eyes and tell me I’m beautiful and that I complete him. I want a man who is vulnerable enough to cry when he’s hurting, who will introduce me to his mother with a smile on his face, who loves children and animals, and who is willing to change diapers and wash dishes and do it all without me having to ask. And if he has a nice body and a lot of money and expensive shoes without scuffs, that would be great, too. Amen.

Well, I’m here to tell you that expecting that kind of love—that perfection—from a man is unrealistic. That’s right, I said it—it’s not gonna happen, no way, no how. Because a man’s love isn’t like a woman’s love.

Don’t get it confused, now—I’m not saying that we’re not capable of loving. I’m just saying that a man’s love is different—much more simple, direct, and probably a little harder to come by. I’ll tell you this much: a man who is in love with you is probably not going to call you every half hour and give you an update on how much more he loves you at 5:30 P.M. than he did at 5:00 P.M.; he’s not going to sit around stroking your hair and wiping your brow with cold compresses while you sip hot tea and nurse yourself back to health.

His love is still love, though.

It’s just different from the love that women give and, in a lot of cases, want.

I argue that if you simply recognize how, exactly, a man loves, you might find that the man standing in front of you is, indeed, giving you his all and then some. How do you know when a man loves you? Simple: he will do each of the following three things.

If your man loves you, he’s willing to tell anybody and everybody, “Look, man, this is my woman” or “this is my girl,”

“my baby’s mama,” or “my lady.” In other words, you will have a title—an official one that far extends beyond “this is my friend,” or “this is__________ (insert your name here).” That’s because a man who has placed you in the most special part of his heart—the man who truly has feelings for you—will give you a title. That title is his way of letting everyone within the sound of his voice know that he’s proud of being with you, and that he has plans for you. He sees himself in a long-term, committed relationship with you, and he’s professing it for all to hear because he’s serious about this thing—it may be the beginning of something special.

A man who professes you as his own is also saying in not so many words that he’s claiming you—that you are his. Now he’s put everyone on notice. Any man who hears another man say,

“this is my lady,” knows that whatever games/tricks/plans/

schemes he may have had in mind for the pretty, sexy lady standing in front of him need to be shelved until the next single woman comes in the room, because another man has professed out loud that “this one is mine and she’s not available for anything you were plotting and planning.” It’s a special signal we men all recognize and respect as the universal code for “off-limits.”

If he introduces you as his “friend,” or by your name, have no doubt that’s all you are. He doesn’t think any more of you than that. In your heart of hearts, ladies, you all know this.

Indeed, when I explained this to a friend of mine, she just laughed and laughed because she could identify with it—saw it up close at an annual Christmas dinner she’s been attending with her family and some close friends for going on twelve years. One guy, she said, would show up every year with a new chick—each one prettier than the last—and a new story about his job or his vacation or his new business venture or whatever.

While the stories and the women kept changing, the one thing that remained constant was this: none of those women ever got introduced as his girlfriend or lady. They were always, without hesitation, presented by their name. Period. And then he would spend the rest of the night cuddling a hard drink and catching up with old friends and colleagues, leaving her to sit at the table by herself, looking out of place and ridiculous in her fancy dress, trying her best to fit in. Everyone at the table pretty much knew that the moment the couple hit the door and went on their way, none of the regular party attendees would ever see her with him again.

Then one recent Christmas party, he showed up with a new woman—his fingers all intertwined with hers, both of them smiling like Cheshire cats. He introduced her as his “lady,” and instantly, everyone knew what was up. But it wasn’t just because of the title he’d assigned; it was because of the actions behind it. He was holding her hand, looking directly at her when he talked to her, introducing her around to everyone—from the business folks to his really good friends—running to the bar to get drinks for her, and dancing with her like he didn’t want the night to end. And when everyone left that evening, they all knew they’d be seeing that woman again, fingers intertwined with the hitherto eternal playboy bachelor, one who changed women as often as Diana Ross changes costumes at a concert.

And wouldn’t you know it? When they came back to that same function the next year, she had a new title: fiancée. For sure, she was in this man’s plans.

So, if you’ve been dating a guy for at least ninety days and you’ve never met his mother, you don’t go to church together, you haven’t been around his family or his friends, and he took you to a networking/job/social function and introduced you by your name, then you’re not in his plans—he doesn’t see you in his future.