There’s a poem by Jayne Gumpel that always stops me in my tracks. It’s called Goddamn It, Just Ask Me. It speaks to a part of me that has, for much of my life, been quiet—maybe even invisible: the part of me that has needs.
For years, I saw myself as a giver. I was someone who knew what others needed before they did, someone who could anticipate, comfort, and support, without ever really asking for anything in return. It felt noble, generous, even spiritual. But over time, that selflessness started to feel lonely and unsustainable.
I secretly hoped someone would just know what I needed—without me having to say it out loud.
As Jayne writes:
“I want you to just know, goddammit.
Feel it.
Deliver it like breath.
Don’t make me beg for what should already be mine.”
Reading those lines, I recognize my younger self. I also see how much pressure this stance puts on the people we love. How much it assumes. How much it keeps us in fantasy—waiting for someone to mind-read us instead of learning the deeper skill of intimacy: asking.
“The belief that love should be unconditional—
without needs,
without requests—
that’s not noble.
That’s infantile.
True love—
the grown-up kind—
asks.
Listens.
Responds.”
In my marriage, I’ve had to unlearn the idea that asking makes love less real or that receiving is selfish.
Imago has helped with that. In Imago, we see need not as a burden—but as a bridge. The act of naming a need and trusting the other person to receive it with care is one of the most tender, transformative things we can do in partnership.
“This is Earth,
where the price of intimacy
is visibility.”
Visibility takes courage. It can be scary and vulnerable, especially for those of us who’ve built identities around being needless, accommodating, or endlessly available.
I’ve learned that if I want real love, I have to share my needs. The first step is often figuring out what I actually need and long for. Then I have to risk asking for comfort, space, reassurance, time, touch… I have to risk possibly being disappointed or hurt if my partner doesn’t give me what I’ve asked for. And I even have to risk receiving what I long for.
I’m still learning to recognize the flutter of longing, to speak it out loud, to let love respond (or not), and stay open either way. It’s messy and awkward, but it’s also sacred – because when we risk naming our needs, we open the door to real, intimate connection.
Want to learn to ask (and receive) better?
If you’re someone who’s more comfortable giving than receiving—or if you and your partner struggle to voice your needs without falling into blame or shutdown—Imago dialogue can help. We teach couples how to move from assumption and resentment into clarity, connection, and choice.
You don’t have to be perfect at this. You just have to be willing to learn.
Goddamn It, Just Ask Me
She says:
If I have to ask, it's worthless.
If I have to ask,
I don't even want it--
because then you only gave it to me
because I asked.
I want you to just know, goddammit.
Feel it.
Deliver it like breath.
Don't make me beg for what should already be mine.
He says:
Jesus. I'm not psychic.
I'm out here dodging ghosts,
trying not to become my mother's boyfriend.
If I guess wrong, I'm crucified.
If I guess right, I'm still on probation.
And so, the lovers implode
under the weight of assumptions
and the raw, radioactive hope
that maybe someone, somewhere
will read their mind
and tattoo love straight onto their forehead.
Listen:
This is no Greek myth.
This is not the garden of Eden.
Nobody's born knowing your childhood wounds.
This is Earth,
where the price of intimacy
is visibility.
Where the fantasy that
"If it's real, I won't have to ask"
is the ghost of an unmet need,
still playing dress-up in adult relationships.
The belief that love should be unconditional--
without needs,
without requests--
that's not noble.
That's infantile.
True love--
the grown-up kind--
asks.
Listens.
Responds.
It risks the awkward.
It risks the answer.
You want love to be clean,
silent,
telepathic?
Fine.
Stay in the fantasy.
But if you want the real thing,
if you want to feel skin against skin,
truth against truth,
you're going to have to open your mouth
and risk the fallout.
You are going to have to ask for permission to
say what you want.
Own it.
Don't fold it in origami
and hope someone unfolds it right.
And if you're the one being asked?
Don't play the martyr.
Don't shrink back into the fetal position of resentment.
Stand up.
Receive the ask. CONTAIN.
Decide what kind of lover you want to be.
Love is not a quiz show.
It's not for cowards.
It's a full-contact, high-stakes,
hallucinogenic experiment
in how much truth two people can stand.
True love:
the grown-up kind~
asks.
Listens.
Responds.
Validates.
So ask.
And answer.
Not because it's easy,
but because it's real.
And the world has enough fakes already.
Let's be real, together.
Your version,
my version,
the version we can witness together--
And lean into love.
-Jayne Gumpel
Reach out to us at the Imago Center DC if you’d like support on the journey toward real, grown-up love.