My Mumma told me there’d be guys like you.
She told me there’d be guys who would chase me for days, weeks, months even. Keep on running after me until I finally stopped and let them catch up. And as soon as I did, they’d creep their way ahead, taking the lead they had their sights set on from the start.
But my Mumma told me I didn’t have to play this game.
She told me there’d be guys who would roam their eyes up and down my body as if it existed as decoration for their pleasure. If I’d chosen that day to dress in a cute little summer dress or a tight pair of jeans, they would make their assumptions about what kind of woman I was. And that some guys would see a short skirt or a low cut top as their ticket inside me.
But my Mumma told me the right guy would simply see the unedited me, underneath all the clothes.
She told me there’d be guys who might pretend to be one of the good ones, steal their way into my heart, then start tearing the place up. Ripping, shredding, and cutting. Leaving a messy pile of brokenness behind them, and me to start laying foundations and re-building all over again.
But my Mumma told me never to stop trusting, because good men do exist, and one is making his way to me.
She told me there’d be guys who just wouldn’t be that into me. The ones who fancied petite blondes instead of lanky brunettes, and the ones who were married or plenty confused. Guys who might leave me thinking the woman I am isn’t good enough.
But my Mumma fiercely taught me never to go changing who I am for anyone. And to believe that the woman I am is so much more than enough.
She told me there’d be guys who would whisper all the honey sweet things in my ear, I had longed to hear my whole life. Anything to sow their seeds in my head, then crawl their way into my bed. Sneaking out the next morning before I woke, never to be heard from again.
But my Mumma told me to pay close attention to their actions because words are ten a penny, but our actions seldom lie.
She told me there’d be guys who would be intimidated by the way I walked tall, as though I was meant to take up space in this world. Guys who would be threatened by my grand dreams, my rich mind, and the strut in my step. Guys who would only want to see me win, as long as I came second place in the race against them.
But my Mumma told me no man would be fearful of my strength.
She told me there’d be guys who might raise their fist to me if I pushed the wrong button. Guys who didn’t know how to control their head, or listen to their heart. Guys who picked on the weak, instead of meeting their match in the ring. Guys who would quickly cry me a river of apologies, and beg me to say, “I forgive you.”
But my Mumma told me to always leave, and never look back.
She told me some guys would fall short of my expectations, leaving me with a belly full of disappointment. Because not all of them would be willing or able to be the man I hoped and needed them to be. And that’s to be expected.
But my Mumma told me never to lower the bar. Because although I would meet many guys like you, none of you were ever meant to be the guy for me.