All these boxes
These checklists women prepare
Dot-points, paragraphs and rulebooks on what their ideal partner must have
Before they will even think to open their hearts, to share their lives with someone
I hear this so often
He’ll have his own successful company and he’ll like yoga and he’ll look at me like i’m the moon and the stars soaring over the ocean or whatever Beau Taplin fed you on Instagram this week (love that guy, but I mean, come on)
For the longest time I felt guilty
That I didn’t sit and prepare a checklist like I see so many women do
To see if you ticked all the boxes
I felt like I was doing “empowered, conscious woman” wrong
And therefore like our love was wrong, or not real
But the universe doesn’t always work like that
You were in my veins before I could pick up a pen
The scariest thing is I almost didn’t tell you
Because I was angry at myself for not falling in love with the “right person” in the “right way”
One year later it is terrifying to me how close I came to letting you go
Just because you didn’t fit the ideal of what I thought my partner “should” be
I don’t care that your music taste is stuck in the nineties, or about your (insane) haircut
I don’t care about the fact you’re ten years older than me
Or about the gentle swell of your belly
I don’t care about the fact you bodyboard when everyone else is surfing
Because all these things communicate to me a man who does not give a fuck what anyone else thinks
A man who belongs so completely to himself
Who threw off the shackles of others expectations a long time ago
THAT is what I want in my life
Someone just as thirsty as I am for freedom
For a bone-achingly brilliant existence
What draws me to you is not tangible
It’s not some bullshit degree or certification
Or the keys to some amazing car
It’s not a passport full of stamps from all these exotic, far off locations
And it’s definitely not how much shit you own
It is purely this: you are a rare thing in this world
You are a pure, raw soul
You attack every single day like a bat straight out of hell
And throw yourself into your work, the surf, into me, like every day could be your very last day on this earth
Your guttural laugh comes straight from the core, every time
Like you’ve never known pain
Like you didn’t grow up while your city was torn apart by a brutal 12-year war
And God, how you share with others. Down to the last scrap of food on the plate. Down to the last cent.
That is what I want. Like that Frida Kahlo letter, your heart leaks something so strong they can smell it in the street.
And I almost let it all go,
Because it wasn’t what I had planned
I used to think the most romantic thing a partner could do was pine for you while you were apart
I now know true romance is a kiss on the cheek at the airport and a “go do your thing. Don’t even think about me. I’ll be here waiting when you get back.”
I write all this because I think its important to remember
While I believe in making sure our partners share the same values as us
That they are as committed to growth us as
That they respect and honour our soul
I also think we can get fixed ideas in our head on who our ideal partner should be
In which case we can let some epic love pass us by
Just because it doesn’t look how we thought it should look
(Or in some cases, even have the gender we thought it would)
Fuck those checklists
Who knows your soul better than you?
And who else has to live your life but you?
If you meet someone and feel a deep resounding ‘yes’ in your bones
That’s the stuff right there
Not some person on a screen telling you
The kind of love that you should be having
Love isn’t rational nor textual
It’s visceral.
Feature image: @raskal