You don’t know me yet, but your world is about to be rocked. At least, I think so. I could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you – but I don’t want to be with you unless you’re ready for me.
I’ve been told I’m a handful.
But, I’m worth it? You may be my “forever” guy, or maybe you’re not. For the first time ever, I’m excited to just not know. That’s life. That’s what makes every day interesting: the not knowing. I thought I wanted the 38-point plan, but as it turns out, I really, really don’t. I want the spontaneity and heartbreak and love and lust and travel and tears and whatever else is going to come at me in the next few years.
So anyway, I figured I’d write a letter to you, mystery man, before you exist in my life as a way to better prepare you for what you’re getting yourself into… and also, to establish my criteria right off the bat.
Want to date me? Here’s my advice for you.
Don’t be an apathetic asshole.
If you care, say so. If you don’t, that’s fine too. Don’t lead me on. Don’t say one thing but do another. Don’t wait for me to ask you what you’re thinking and feeling. Volunteer those thoughts and emotions because you want to. Because I’m worth sharing them with.
Make room for me in your life.
I get it, you’re busy. I’m not your whole world. You’ve existed for several decades without me, so you’ve got routines and plans that don’t revolve around me. That’s fine, but I’m going to need you to start factoring me in. Consider a month from now. Am I there? What about 2 months? A year? What have you done to let me into your world? I’ll carve out space for you, but you’ve got to give me something in return.
Think that I’m beautiful.
I know I’m not for everyone. We all find different features and faces appealing, but whomever I end up with better think I am the most gorgeous woman around (unless we’re within sight of Angelina Jolie or Mila Kunis. Then, I can accept the fact that I don’t measure up…) I want my next big love to be entranced by my quirky eyebrows, pointy chin, and the freckle on my lip. I’ll never be the girl who does her hair and make-up or wears sexy underwear. You’ll have to appreciate me for me.
Be all in.
Commit. Don’t half ass this. I’m tired of guys who don’t know what they want. Grow up, figure your shit out, make me feel special. By the time you’re in your mid-to-late twenties, you’ve dated plenty of girls and hopefully shared intimate moments with all sorts of ladies. I get that, but I don’t want to be reminded of that fact. Make me feel different. If you’re in, you’re in. If you want to fuck around, go do that with someone else.
Don’t be put off by my lack of filter.
I’m a writer, an over-sharer, an open book. I laugh too loudly, can’t keep a secret, and proudly reveal my trials and tribulations with the world. I promise not to divulge personal details you want to keep private, but know that I glean my best material from those I’m close with. If you’re in my life, many of your actions will be recorded, dissected, and publicized. Don’t be afraid of my utter lack of a filter. Find it endearing. Find it honest. Love me for it.
I can’t wait to start loving you.
… Have I scared you off yet? Hope not! Come forth all ye brave men.