Permission to Be a Girl
I love to send him sexy photos from the H&M fitting rooms. The light is always better there.
I love pretending we are Bonnie & Clyde when he drives me around on his scooter.
I love being small with him. I love being a girl with him. I love to be silly and playful. I love to laugh with him. I love to dress up for him.
I love to dance naked looking into the mirror knowing that he sees me.
I love when he grabs my bum. I love that he is in love with my body. I had to love my body first before I allowed him to love it as much.
Allow him to appreciate and admire your body. He really thinks it’s beautiful. Use this opportunity to fall back in love with yourself.
I love that he gives me advice. I love that he treats me as an equal and expects great things.
I love him because he asks me what I think.
I love to fill in the gaps, to direct his attention to sensitive details and point out things he hasn’t thought about.
I love him because he allows me to rest. He doesn’t expect me to be a certain way. I am enough for him in any shape or form.
I love that I feel free with him. I am free to go. I am free to stay. I have a choice and so does he.
Give him that choice. If he feels he has a choice, he will choose you. He will choose someone else when he feels he doesn’t have a choice. #paradox
I love how he thinks. Always straight-forward, always towards a destination.
I love that he’s a doer and I’m a feeler. We complement and borrow these natural resources from each other.
I love that we love opposite things in clothes, colors and TV shows.
I love that we love the same things in people, travel, and homes.
I love when we listen to the same podcasts together.
I love that he doesn’t need much. I love that he has “a bag in a bag in a bag.” He’s wired that way. I love to watch him organize his thoughts, his day and his life.
I love that I find his little intricacies cute.
I love that with him I can go as crazy as I want rambling for hours about the amazing pink flamingos I saw in the zoo or the little kittens we should adopt. He might be rolling his eyes but I know he loves it too.
I guess I’m really in love.
I love that with him I don’t have to think. I can just be. A girl.
I have given myself permission to be a girl before I met him. I have learned to embrace and love that part about me. And I realized how much power this quality has over men (and over my life.)
If only we would allow ourselves to play more.
Women who complain about meeting “wrong” men simply don’t allow themselves to be girls. To be silly and fleeting. To dance like there is no tomorrow and to flirt like there is no yesterday. To be so present in the now that tomorrow morning feels so far away.
He loves to play that game with you. But you will have to lead him into it. You are the one inviting him into the game. That’s why he approaches you.
Don’t make his life hard. There is no need to. You are not here to prove anything to anyone. You are here to live and play. Make the best of it. Don’t overthink the details, don’t get upset with little things. Go with the flow, swim and let him see you shine. He has the best intentions even when he fucks up.
Just trust it. Trust in the good of men. They will be grateful for it and they will bring the world to your feet.
When he approaches, give him a chance. Give him an opportunity to say something; to try; to challenge himself. Reject him gracefully if you need to. Be that woman in his life that made him feel good about himself. Be that woman in his life who gave him the best feeling of frill. Be that woman who had given him the best sex, the best blow, the best kiss. You want to be remembered like that.
That is good relationship karma.
But let him go when he needs to go. Don’t overhold him. Respect yourself and know your limits. Teach him a lesson but do it with dignity. Without threats, whiny messages, redemption or getting back at him.
Move on quickly. Delete him from Facebook of WhatsApp if it hurts but don’t be that girl who talks about it with everyone forever. Move on. There are great men and amazing adventures out there worthy of you. If this is not worthy, drop it. Wish him all the best and drive away.
I can’t wait to have his last name in my passport.
In two months I shall be Anna Nikolic. A new kind of Anna. A new kind of woman.
I can’t wait to create a family with him and give him the gift of bearing his child. Call me old-fashioned, conservative or orthodox. I don’t care. This is how I feel.
I can only imagine how it feels having his child being developed in my belly. I can’t imagine giving birth to a little human that is a product of our love. It feels impossible and out of this world.
But I also know that my body is just a vehicle. Bearing a child is an incredible experience given to us as females. I want to feel it. I want to embrace it.
I know it’s coming soon. I’m excited. But I don’t want to rush it. Everything happens at the right time at the right circumstances.
I love him like that and much more. I love him as much as I love myself and maybe a little bit more.
And I know that if tomorrow he might not be here with me anymore, I will be okay. I will be extremely sad and devastated but I will be okay. And he will be okay.
We all will be okay.
This, too, shall pass. In this lifetime or another.
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