DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND…
I am highly educated and a very enlightened woman. I have been raised with a conscious mind and do not conform to the misconstrued versions of society. Dear future husband, do not feel threatened by me. I might be a king of the world, but to you, I’ll be your queen.
Dear future husband. Yes, you man! Why do you want me to just be quiet in what you refer to as “men talk” and am highly aware of what’s going on in society? Why do you feel threatened that I got promoted to managing director at a highly masculinized position? Why do you listen to your friends when they tell you that an educated wife is trouble? We both know that every empire needs a chief like me…and we both know am good at what I do. So please, let me shine in what I know best, and do not feel shy to compliment me at being the best.
Yes, I’m aware that am beautiful. The doctor that delivered me told mama that, “Congratulations! It’s a beautiful baby girl!” instead, let me blow your mind at how intelligent I am. I’ll take care of your interest and double your wealth. But don’t shut me out of all opportunities this life has to offer, all because I am a woman.
Dear future husband. I don’t want my daughter to grow up looking up to Condoleezza Rice, Angela Merkel or Margret Thatcher. Instead, when she’s asked who she wants to be when she grows up, I want her to say she wants to be mummy kicking butt in stripped pants suits and making dinner by seven. And I want my boy to aspire to love a girl like me. A girl that’s free to be just a girl, full of brains no fear and maybe a couple of glasses gracing the bridge of her nose.
Dear future husband. I am a brain walking in the beauty of the night, cloudless as breathe and of stars in the sky. But am also unadorned, majestic lightning. A storm in the sea growing stronger with my every swirl and swoosh! I need you not to worry ‘cuz you are the eye of my storm. My calm haven of peace and perfect utopia. When the world is the sun in my face, sometimes warming me up and giving a perfect tan, other times burning me to a crisp, be my moon that I turn to for serenity and comfort and maybe give me a smile and whisper a sweet note in my hair with your lips that it’s all going to be okay.
Dear future husband. Be the man that messes my lipstick but never my mascara.