I do not expect you to fall in love with me. In fact, I’d rather you don’t. Save yourself the trouble. Save yourself the time. Your future self will thank you for avoiding the inevitable misery that comes with loving one like me. But I know how you think. You want to fall in love with the women who don’t want your love, don’t need it, get along just fine without it. You want the broken ones. The difficult ones. You want the ones most likely to ruin your life. Well, congratulations. You’ve hit the jackpot. But one day, sooner than you’d like to think, you will tire of my flaws. If you really love me, you’ll have to love the ugly parts. It won’t be fun or glamorous. It won’t be easy. I cannot promise you much else, but I promise you this.

If you insist on falling in love with me, fall in love with how fucked up my head is. Don’t fall in love with my moles which are scattered so perfectly around my body they almost make you think they were placed there intentionally. Don’t fall in love with my bold red lipstick. One day, my small hands will be too shaky to apply it. Do not love me for my small breasts or the crooked curvature of my spine. In fact, don’t fall in love with my body at all. Instead, fall in love with my mind. I assure you darling, my mind will only get more lovely with time. If you do fall in love with my body, fall in love with my love handles. Those aren’t going anywhere.

Fall in love with the dirty looks you know very well I am capable of giving, but never give to you. If you have to fall in love with me, fall in love with the long hours I work despite the small paychecks I receive. Fall in love with my sore feet. My migraines. Fall in love with my skepticism, or my loss of hope. Fall in love with my lack of faith, and my loud mouth. Fall in love with the way I can never quite take the sweet compliments you so genuinely give to me. Give me those sweet compliments anyway.

Fall in love with the way my life has turned out exactly the way I did not intend for it to, and fall in love with how alright I am with that. Fall in love with my changed plans. Do not fall in love with the bold black lines in my tattoos, for if you fall in love with my love for the sun, you must know that those lines will fade. Fall in love with every tangle in my hair, the shade of which reminds you of dirty dishwater. Remember that someday it will turn grey. Love it when it does. Fall in love with the grotesque amounts of caffeine I consume each day, despite your gentle warnings not to.

Fall in love with my real frowns, not my fake smiles. Fall in love with how bad I am at math, and all of the reasons why – even if I haven’t told them to you yet. Trust that I will when I am ready. Fall in love with how mad I am able to make you. Fall in love with the way my dog hogs the bed, forcing you closer to me. Also fall in love with the dog hair you’ll find on your clothes after a night spent at my apartment. If you don’t, that dog hair could be the very thing to tear us apart. Fall in love with the chaos that surrounds me. For if you choose to be near to me, it will surround you too.

Fall in love with my fear of failure, but first fall in love with each of my failures. Fall in love with my sex drive, but don’t expect it to last forever. Fall in love with the way I never forget to take my birth control because I am terrified of passing on my genes. Know that this may mean we will never have children. Fall in love with the massages I give to you, but know that one day I will be too brittle and frail to rub your shoulders any longer. Fall in love with the way I always blame myself, or the way I never place the blame on you. Fall in love with how bad I am at lying. But please, never fall in love with telling me lies.

Fall in love with the way my hair won’t hold a curl. Fall in love with my sloppy handwriting, or the words I must to write down to keep myself from total insanity. Fall in love with the insanity that sometimes shows through anyway, and fall in love with how hard I try to hide it from you. Fall in love with my laughter – even when I snort. Fall in love with my nut allergies. Fall in love with the books I love, or the reality television I cannot stand. Fall in love with my fire, even when it threatens to burn you.

Fall in love with my quick wit, but know that someday it will slow way down. Don’t fall in love with my savings account or my resume. Those things don’t matter. I know that somebody told you they do. Don’t listen to that somebody. Do not fall in love with the food that I cook, or the photos I take. Don’t fall in love with my teeny-tiny black bikini. One day it won’t fit me. That day will come up on us more quickly than we imagine. Fall in love with my messiness. Fall in love with the paint I will get all over the floor of the house we will share someday. Fall in love with my godlessness. Don’t fall in love with my college degree. One day my brain will lose its sharpness and I will forget most of the things I learned in school. But I will never forget how to love you, and loving you is the most important thing I will ever learn to do.

It will be hard for me to fall in love with a you who wishes he’d never fallen in love with me in the first place. So please, fall in love with the bits of me most challenging to fall in love with, or don’t fall in love with me at all.