She pursued him like a brave, elegant lioness.
She strode up to him, a confident sway in her hips,
The smell of jasmine and rose emanating, like messy rays of sun, from her skin;
She walked up to him with power, with beauty, with the distilled presence of all that she was written on her naked face.
With the spiciness of her cinnamon lipstick,
She looked him right in the eye and said the three simplest words in the English language,
“How are you?”
Not a pick-up line, not an invitation to her bed, but a way to discover him,
To see if he was a man worthy of her kiss.
For she was not a subtle woman—
She chased her dreams with a heart full of wildfire;
She pursued her passions with gritty dedication, with sweet, ballsy brilliance,
Why should love be any different?
She wasn’t about to wait around and try to impress a man with icy indifference;
She wasn’t about to dull herself down to a flimsy fraction of who she was so that a man might like her;
She wasn’t about to forsake her soul, her truth, her beliefs—
Not for anyone.
She had scared men away before—sure—but they weren’t the men for her.
She knew that now.
And she was done hiding the petals of her messy beauty—
Her heart was a chaotic tumbling waterfall masterpiece of words and paint-splattered truths,
Her soul was adventurous and gritty, filled with rugged, crackling mountains and bright purple dahlias
She was done holding back.
And she was done buying into Comsopolitan advice column bullsh*t that women shouldn’t chase men—
She knew better.
She had wasted too many nights waiting by the phone, paralyzed by her own exhausting inaction of what women are “supposed” to do, eaten alive by her endless fear of being “too much.”
But she was not too much; she was more than juicy, just enough to be f***ing awesome, lovable, kind, and fire-sparkin’ delicious.
And she was done buying into ridiculous dating rule books and playing the role of damsel in distress—
It was time to make her own rules.
She had a fierce heart. She always k