Tequila and Tea

I don’t know your name yet.
But I feel your presence.

Sometimes in the stillness.
Sometimes in the ache.
Sometimes in the way I speak to the moon and hope you’re looking at the same sky.

This isn’t a letter of desperation.
It’s a declaration.
A soft, bold knowing that you exist—and that I’m ready.

Not for a fairytale.
Not for a man to save me.
But for you—a man who shows up fully, who meets me where I’ve already met myself.

You are steady.
Not perfect. Not always certain. But present.
You own your shadows. You take responsibility for your energy.
You’ve excavated the layers of performance and protection—and what remains is truth.

You see me not as someone to fix, tame, or mold.
You see me as I am: wild and wise, tender and powerful.
You respect my mind, adore my body, and honor my heart.
You don’t shrink from my depth—you swim in it.

We laugh. A lot.
We communicate, even when it’s hard.
We choose each other—not out of need, but devotion.
And when life gets messy (because it will), we clean it up together, with grace and grit and a good playlist.

I am calling you in—not to complete me, but to create with me.
A life. A rhythm. A home we build inside each other.

Until we meet, I’ll keep becoming the woman who can love you the way you deserve.
Soft, sovereign, and surrendered—but never small.

Come when you’re ready.
I’ll recognize you by the way my nervous system relaxes when you enter the room.

With love already,
Michelle