To all the men I regret letting inside me
Men* say women are too fussy, too nit-picky.
They say women have unrealistic expectations and impossibly high standards.
But,
I’ve never met a man who genuinely enjoys it when I take up more space than him, spread my legs a little wider at the table.
A man who’s comfortable with me garnering more attention than him simply by existing.
A man who doesn’t want me to moderate my behaviour in some way, tamper myself down.
A man who doesn’t request submission and/or sacrifice.
A man who feels inspired by my ascension.
A man who can not only keep up with, but revels in my humour.
A man who can banter without belittling.
A man who celebrates my dancing like a brat on tables.
A man who knows every lyric to Affirmation by Savage Garden or Dancing On My Own by Robyn.
A man who doesn't squirm when my best friend’s ask, “what do you actually bring to the table?”, he simply answers with confident articulation.
A man who doesn’t speak just because he can.
A man who I didn’t have to provide lessons to on how to respect women.
A man who didn’t need mothering.
A man who can keep up with me when I’m ovulating.
A man who looks as equally sexy holding a beer.
A man who isn’t fearful of my big mouth, raucous laughter and propensity to overshare.
A man who could maintain a proper friendship with me once I cut off their unrestricted access.
A man who genuinely meant it when he retorted “yeah casual’s fine”.
A man who knows how to adequately dust his windowsills and scrub limescale off his shower walls.
A man who handled rejection with grace, as opposed to petulance.
A man who when confronted with his own flaws, doesn’t resort to deflection and projection.
A man who resists the temptation to sharpen his own insecurities into knives for stabbing at my most tender bits.
I have, however, met plenty of women who do/can/are/have and will.
*Cis and straight men
-She's Burning
