I am not a normal person – this you will have established for yourself if you have been following my blog. I don’t think like everybody else, and as for behaviour, well –  I just Do.Not.Conform.

With that in mind comes a disclaimer: what you are about to read is my own personal opinion and I am not trying to glorify or justify or condone any fuckking thing. Got it? Not one single thing. Good.

This rant comes to you from the heart and soul of one woman; and it’s about other women. Shallow ones, in my own humble. And specifically, my fem-dar today is picking up signals from women who just can’t bring themselves to love a real man.

Ever heard a chick complaining about her bloke? Here’s a reminder:

– He’s got too much baggage.

– He’s too emotional

– He’s too intense

– He’s possessive

Well EXCUSE ME! Or rather – him.  So your baggage-man happened to have a life before he met you, did he? BAD MAN! How fucking dare he have a past / a fucking prison sentence / an unbelievably shit-coated upbringing (or whatever the THING is that makes some women condescending judgemental arseholes).

Too emotional? Yeah – we don’t want THAT, do we? Who wants fucking FEELINGS getting in the way of a relationship? SO he cries when he’s sad. Don’t you? And have you ever asked yourself WHY he does that, let alone just BEING THERE for him?  If you haven’t, then you don’t deserve him in the first fucking place.

As for being too intense – Is there such a thing as TOO intense? I WANT this level of intensity. I want a guy who cries when he’s sad, instead of being some macho twat who keeps it all in and then ends up taking it out on me in the long run anyway. I want my guy to be fine if I die, but on the coin’s other side, totally unable to cope with the thought of life without me. THAT is the fucking passion. RIGHT THERE. I don’t want the alternative – the guy who just goes YEAH…WHATEVER… and fucks the fuck off. That, my friend, simply means he does not love you.

This does not, of course, mean that I want or expect my man to contemplate leaving this plane without me. And the reason I am ok with shooting my big rubber lips off about this? I’m hoping to be with my guy forever. FOR EVER. That’s IT. There’ll be no leaving him,  and no leaving me. Only happy stuff for us – no tragedies here. I am Catherine but I want to KEEP my Heathcliff, goddamnit.

Whilst I’m on the subject, I may as well throw in a rant-for-free about the detestable sort of person who KNOWS everything about every person who has ever attempted or succeeded in mortal-coil shuffleness by their own hand.  Because we all know suicide is selfish, right? Is it bollocks.

Suicide is not a weakness; nor is it an act of cowardice. The person – man or woman – who contemplates the ending of their own life…..feels – nay; KNOWS the world’s gonna get better without them: they’re gonna cure the world simply by not being in it, goddamnit. And for that reason alone, suicide is unselfish.

And there’s more. The state of MIND somebody has to be in to contemplate that shit? Just think about it.

Finally – possessiveness (or however you want to label it). Again – I want this. I SO want this. Do you really want your man not to fawn over your photos on Facebook or hang off your every word? It’s when he DOESN’T that you have a problem.  When he doesn’t wanna know where you’ve been and with whom.

Just think about it. Redefine OBSESSIVE or INTENSE.

These men with a past – these deities with a dark past from which they’re still trying to recover – these are the keepers. These are the SURVIVORS. And they will jump RIGHT IN and love you like you’ve never been loved before, and probably more than you actually deserve. Suffice to say they may actually be too good for you.

But if they let you love them? If they HONOUR you with every aspect of their past and ALLOW you to adore them?

Lock them up tight inside your heart and throw away the key.

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