A Letter To The Next Man To Say, “I Love You”

I am not broken from my bruises. I am not defeated from his words.

When the moment comes, and you are ready to tell me that you love me, please understand, that I will probably love you too. But I will not know how to tell you. I will not know how to accept that your definition of love is different from the one I have heard before you, from my last “love”.

When you say those words, the three that every girl waits to hear, I will do my best to realize that you are different. I may smile, I may cry, I may have a blank stare on my face for a few moments, a face that reminds me of fear. You are opening up your heart to me, but I need you to know there are still a few bruises on mine, from my last “love”.

Bruises that I am not ashamed of. His definition of this word that I no longer understand the true meaning of was different than what I thought it would be before him. His definition included screaming, mocking, hitting and spitting. But I realize now, that I am free. He used to tell me I was not good enough to be with anyone else, but that I was good enough for him to see – potential. So many insecurities formed, from my last “love”.

I remember the first time his hand pulling my hair did not match the words coming from his lips. The way he looked into my eyes and aggressively grabbed my hips. Told me I was “used”, and that no one else would ever want me. But I didn’t have to worry, because he would “never let me go”. I believed what he said, every hateful word, all spoken, from my last “love”.

As a little girl I wondered what it would be like to be loved by someone else. To fall asleep with them. To wake up with them. To eat, to laugh, to smile with them. All the aspects of life you think of when you say the word. In my world, though, it was different, from my last “love”.

But after two long years, I was able to see that the light at the end of the tunnel was brighter than the darkness I was living in. That not eating was not going to make me more beautiful in his eyes. That crying was not going to make him easier on me. That sticking up for myself did not matter. Because he did not L-O-V-E me. He just wanted to control me.  And I see it so clearly now. So long, last “love”.

I am not broken from my bruises. I am not defeated from his words. Understand that after years of Taylor Swift songs and books I now know what the word means. I am sure, it exists, and it will exist for me.

So to the next man to look me in the eye and tell me that he loves me. Please understand I will love you too. I will eat with you, sleep with you, smile with you, and be with you. But in that pure moment of vulnerability when you say those three words, just know I hear you, and I believe you.

You are my next love. And you will be my best love. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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