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#dearfuturehusband: Women Wasting Their Lives Talking To Men Who Don’t Exist
I believe in betting on myself, not placing all my bets on a damn man who doesn’t exist to give me a desirable life.
When I was a little girl I used to read a lot. My dad would take my brother and I to the library and we each got to pick out four books to check out. But once I began to earn my own money selling candy to my classmates I started buying my own books.
The books I purchased were mainly romance novels. I loved each of them dearly, as the words in the pages made me feel as if I was the romantic interest of some mystery man. So I was crushed once my father discovered my stash of love stories that kept my little self hoping and wishing for a man to rescue me in the future.
Because he burned those books. Each and every one of them. With tears in my eyes I watched in horror as the fantasies that felt like breezy romantic getaways from my frustrating life of homework, piano lessons, and other activities I was forced to do against my will burn and disintegrate.
My dad saw how sad I was, and he explained to me that he didn’t want his daughter getting caught up in the narrative of obsessing over husbands. He even told me about a brilliant classmate who literally sabotaged a full-ride scholarship to go to college because she was so boy…
