I don’t want you all dolled up, eyeliner perfect, lipstick smudge-free, beginning of the night flawless. I don’t want you when I’m in heels and spanx and and posing with arms made to look skinny in front of cool walls to break 100 likes on Instagram.
I don’t want you when I’m coifed and answering questions the right way. I don’t want you when my nails are done and my teeth are whitened and my every pore has been removed thanks to FaceTune. I don’t want you with painted on smiles and perfect poses and hair that never seems to move.
I don’t want you when everything seems photographable.
I don’t want you when everything seems posed, forced, fake in a way.
I don’t want you when things are perfect.
Sure, I hope you’ll be around.
But I’d rather have you when things are a mess.
I’d rather you were mine when and where things are going to shit.
When I haven’t washed my hair in days, when I’m fighting a deadline and a lack of sleep. When I’m picking at my cuticles and judging myself for my inability to take absolutely anything seriously. When I’m an anxious mess and when I’m unsure of things even when they seem easy to you.
I’d rather have you when things are tough, instead of jumping to when they’re seemingly picture perfect.
Because an Instagram where we’re both poised just so and flashing smiles and wearing our best is nice.
But knowing you’ll be around when things aren’t as nice, and that you’re not afraid of what will show itself when the picture perfect fades?
That’s even better.
See, if I’m being totally honest, I’m not interested in the perfect. I’m not interested in the days when things are going well and we’re hashtag this and hashtag that. I’m not interested in the moments when I feel swept off my feet, or when I can’t catch my breath due to butterflies or emotions or what have you.
I’m interested in the other. The moments other people aren’t concerned with. The moments other people shrug off and choose to not think about.
I’m interested in the moments where I stop being funny and start being real. Where I stop putting on a show and start telling you who I am. Where I get anxious and you don’t get scared. Where I get sad and you get protective. Where I’m less than and you fill in the gaps.
I’m interested in the moments where I’m not what you’ve always dreamed of, but you still love me anyway.
Because here’s the thing:
I don’t want you just because it’s easy.
Easy is great. Easy is simple. Easy is..well…easy.
But real love, true love, absolute love? It comes with messy. It comes with flaws. It comes with cracks and breaks and damaged pieces and it makes the best of everything. Instead of saying, “What can I do with this?” It says, “Look at this mosaic I can make from all of these pieces.”
I understand that loving me won’t be for the faint of heart. It won’t be for the person who’s never seen a hurricane or experienced being anything other than the boy from the bar. I understand that it’s not going to be all fun all the time, and I understand that loving me is not for everyone.
Which is why, if you choose to love me, I expect that you’ll love the imperfect as much as I do.
I expect you’ll love me when I’m dolled up, and I expect that you’ll love me when I’m in sweatpants. I expect that you’ll love me when I’ve painted my face with $50 makeup and I expect that you’ll love me when all I’ve managed to do is splash some water on my cheeks before heading back to bed. I expect you’ll love me at my skinny jeans and you’ll love me in my overalls. I expect you to love me when I’m completely coifed and poised, and I expect you to love me when I can’t find my hairbrush and I’m at a loss for words to accurately describe what I’m feeling.
Babe, I don’t expect you to love every moment, but I do expect you to love me.
I don’t want you when I’m all dolled up. I don’t want you when my eyeliner is untouchable and I know that every Insta is going straight to the triple digit likes or when I feel my most lovable.
I hope I get you then, but it’s not when I want you.
I want you in the other moments. The messy moments.
The moments when I am my most unlovable.
And I hope, just maybe, that those are the moments when you want me too.