To The Boy That Loves One of the Strong Girls:
You're going to have to work for it. Instead of climbing her mountain, this girl is carrying it around with her on her back ... desperate to put it down, but too stubborn to give up the fight. Desperate to ease her heaving load. For a break in the work.
You will be her break.
Her break in the sadness. Her break in the effort. Her break in the constant stream of can-I-just-please-have-a-minute.
Give her time for heavy sighs and missteps. Give her time to catch her breath, because listen: a mountain is a heavy thing to carry. She has rocks in her pockets weighing her down and she has cut her teeth on the cold nights in the winter snow.
You will be her break. Earn it.
To The Boy That Loves One of the Lost Girls:
Sometimes, we're all a little lost. A little unsure. And if you love a girl that is still stuck on her winding path - still trying to decide between Adventure A, or Adventure C - you're going to need to be her home. Her beacon.
Our paths are all narrow, and sometimes, we step off. Whether it's the right decision, or a succession of wrong ones ... sometimes, we're confused. Or torn. Or in a sea of unknown people, unknown situations, unknown streets.
You're going to need to be her Home. Her compass. Earn it.
To The Boy That Loves One of the Intense Girls:
These are the girls that are the list checkers, meticulous planners, and yet have the softest hearts. You see the lists, the planning, the directing ... all of it projects some wide level of control. A battle anthem of, "I can do it all by myself," streams constantly through the conversations they hold. They're the flag holders, the chargers, the people you always pick for your team because they'll do the work.
And you like control, too. Don't you? You're a warrior, too, aren't you? Just think of how much you'll accomplish if you funnel your strengths together. You'll be unstoppable. And her? Well. She'll be your biggest champion.
But you're going to need to bring the funnel to that fight. Earn her faith in you.
To The Boy That Loves One of the Free-Spirited Girls:
They'll call her flighty. They'll not value what she has to say, or where she comes from, or even care about where she's going. Her hair will flow in the early fall breeze, and you will be lost to her tangles. The thing about the free spirited ones? They don't need anyone. A man. A tribe.
You need to be careful.
They are slippery, skittish, claustrophobic -- they hold up their hands to any sort of any life set in stone, or any sort of same ... But they are a light.
They will light up your darkest cracks, the holes left in your heart, and early Sunday mornings. You won't be able to hold her long - no one will.
You're going to need to be her center. Earn it.
You see - girls aren't tricky. They're not difficult to figure out or confusing. All they - or anyone for that matter - want is love. And not some kind of cracker jack box kind of love that you see in thirteen-year-olds ... They want affirming love.
Love that says, "Hey. You be you. All of you. You don't have to regulate yourself. You don't have to stop talking. You don't have to stop singing. You don't have to stop dancing in the kitchen on Thursday nights after work. Just be who you are because I love all of you."
So often -- so incredibly often -- relationships are born and there are already these sweeping spaces of heart real estate already sold to someone else. Hurts that haven't been patched up from The Before worm their way into the present, and suddenly, you're not just dealing with one person.
You're dealing with four. Five. Seven old lovers. Seven old hurts. Seven ghosts that you have to fight and it's exhausting sometimes.
You know what? Love her anyway. Show up anyway.
And my sweet boy ... that's how you earn it.
That's how you earn her.
. About Moi .
I love, love, love flannel sheets and I am really passionate about lists on post it notes and most of the time I'm sad that no one else is as excited as I am about Diet Mountain Dew. I also adore run-on sentences.
He saw her before he saw
anything else in the room.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
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