Hot Fucking Truth Love Manifesto

I’m so fucking tired of all these pieces I keep reading on sites about how to love this kind of person or that kind of person. I’m tired of reading about how love should look, or what to look for to find love.

 

Sick.
To.
Death.

So here is my very own Hot Fucking Truth Love Manifesto to express all the shit going on inside of me…

 

I’m not looking for a man to complete me or a man with whom our broken pieces fit together perfectly.

 

I want a man who sees how completely fucked up I am and vise versa, and we live our lives separately, yet together— in other words, don’t be a Klingon (clingy), it’s a major turn-off.

I want us to help each other grow, learn and fulfill our dreams on our own terms. Define our own relationship dynamic and give the middle finger to societal norms. 

I want us to be there to pick each other up, to laugh together, to celebrate both the big and little things in life, to spend holidays together, to cry with each other, and be each other’s rock of stability.

And most importantly, to share tender moments together and not be afraid to do so, because the trust we share is solid.

No trust = no love.

 

Life isn’t a rom-com.

 

Oh, but the movies want you to believe that shit, and as a woman, I’ve been spoon-fed that bullshit since my teen years.

Sorry, but there is no you complete me“. There is no happily ever after. How many times do we all get a happy ending? And I’m not talking in a dirty strip club way here.

There is only “I”, as in me, myself. When each of us is our own autonomous person, that is completion, and when we find another like that, then that is a solid “we”.

I’m fucking tired of poetry, literature, movies, magazines, going on ad nauseam, telling me what love is or looks like; that if it’s true love things will be easy and fall into place.

 

Nothing ever worth having is given freely and easily – and if it is, it can fall apart and mean nothing just as easily.

 

Everything I’ve ever achieved in this life was a fight to get and keep, why wouldn’t and shouldn’t love be that way as well?

I am an imperfectly fucked up mess in so many ways; some ways are funny, some ways are scary, but guess what? Everyone is a fucking mess in one way or another. It’s how we rise above that fucking mess that defines our character and crafts us into our own Michelangelo masterpiece.

 

The truth is I want to see my future partner in all his fucked-upness – every scar, every flaw, everything he dislikes about himself, every insecurity.

 

Show me.
I want it all.

 

I want to tear down my walls, rip open my broken, bruised, and abused heart, and show him all of my fucked-upness as well.

Raw. Real. No photoshop or flowery poetic words to disguise or manipulate any of this realness.

I am strong, stubborn, and independent, and you should be, too.

Tell me your love manifesto. I want to know.