To The Women Whose Lives Are Not Love Stories

Here’s to the women whose lives are not love stories. To those who never expected to find happily-ever-after on their wedding day or the moment their eyes locked with somebody else’s across a crowded café. To the girls who grew up measuring success based on what they achieved for themselves – what they worked through, what they accomplished and what they did not let diminish them along the way.

Here is to women who grew up searching for the dreams that they wanted to realize and the people they wanted to become, not just the man who would sweep them away from the tragedy of their mundane existence. To the women who hoped that their lives would be thrillers, adventure novels, comedies and occasionally pornos but never predominantly romances. Never only a reflection of what they had to offer someone else. Here’s to the women who had bigger plans for the main character in their story.

Here’s to the women who grew up wanting more. More independence, more knowledge and more opportunity than they were ever expected to achieve. To the women who were taught to be quiet but found voices. To the women who were told to be chaste but chose passion. To the women who were taught to sit down and keep quiet but who chose instead to stand up and fight. Here’s to the women who never cared much for the fairy-tales that they were read. To the women who rejected the scripts that they were given and went on to write their own.

Here’s to the girls who grew up with dirty hands and skinned knees. Who wanted to experience the world first-hand and full-force, with no hidden intention or ambition of appearing desirable to somebody else. To the ladies who treated their bodies and minds as vessels – to experience, learn, grow and achieve, rather than simply to seduce and impress. To the women who wanted to be seduced themselves, with the wild intricacies of the world that surrounded them. Here’s to the women who knew that they deserved to explore with all the ferocity and passion of the heroes in their favourite childhood novels. Who didn’t wait for someone else to come along to show them the world.

Here’s to the women who’ve been lonely. Who’ve felt the downfall and struggle of entertaining a life that is not focused on love – who’ve watched friends settle down, partners move on and life progress without them because their goals didn’t line up with everyone else’s plans. To the women who’ve faced judgment with a clear head and a level heart, knowing that they’re proud of the life they’ve chosen – that their own success means more to them than someone else’s version of it, and that their happiness is something only they are allowed to define. To the women who have felt the full weight of their choices and kept choosing them anyway – because they knew the kind of life that they wanted and they weren’t afraid to live it out fully.

Here’s to the women who fought to become their own saviors, their own heroes, the fierce protagonists of their own triumphant stories. Here’s to the damsels who pulled themselves out of distress and to the heroines who didn’t wait around to be saved. This is a tribute to the women who appreciate romance but who know that it alone is not the happy ever after they’ve been searching for. That their story will end once they’ve seen all they wanted to see, learned all they wanted to know and accomplished all the goals that they set for themselves as children.

Here’s to the women who know that in the story of their lives, they’re the ones holding the pen. And that they’re going to end up as so much more than just the apple of someone else’s eye.