You’re smart.

Smart and rational enough to make the distinction between the belief that women are inherently inferior to men and being a woman who needs to have her heart pricked with barbs, insults, and jibes. In fact, I wouldn’t want a dumb woman. Dumb, pliable doormats are kinda boring.

I want to charm you, sweep you off your feet. I want to take you out on road trips, to nice coffee shops and restaurants where we read until 1 AM. I want you to be absolutely smitten with me.

I want someone who is smart enough to understand how deeply fucked up we both are yet compromised by her own psychology and biology enough to be unable to stay away.

I want a woman that creams herself to the idea of being on an emotional roller coaster where you're not quite sure if those are butterflies or anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

I want to make you feel small, embarrassed, weak, and stupid.

I want to validate all your insecurities and make you believe it by telling you the unvarnished truth about who and what you are.

I want to gaslight you into thinking you're worthless, though we'd both know I couldn't live without you.

And when I'm good and ready I want to make you feel like you're lower than a doormat covered in mud. I want you to anticipate and hope for that kind word that sends you to the moon and to send you crashing back with a simple comment blows you up.

I want to talk about your weight and what you eat and remind you that the reason the only person in the world who loves you is me is because you have no self control.

I want to make you feel like you being good enough is just within your grasp then snatch it away from you.

I want to talk about all the people in your life that made you crave someone like me.

I want you to assure me that you’d leave me if I treated you like a vanilla girl.

If this sounds like you, let’s talk.

While I hold a special place in my heart for legal teens who hate their dad, you’re all at the back of the line. But I do think it's cute when you try.