Let me give you a hint,

I was taught I was going to be married to my husband, the head of the house

So don't blame me for only modifying my lesson.

And before you call me materialistic,

Tell me one person who isn't.

Before you call me a gold digger,

Tell me one person who doesn't find gold.

Before you call me dependent,

Tell me what I was made for.

Before you say I'm after only what men give me,

Tell me what I was taught

I want a love that's genuine and big.

A love that screams, "Here I am, I'm here."

I don't mean 85 different ways to say "what you doing? I miss you"

I don't mean calling me up asking "where you at?" only to f**k me and leave me.

I want a love that's big and wide.

And before you ask the kind of attention I mean,

I don't mean bombarding my phone with texts and calls.

I don't mean every minute of the day you're texting — that's annoyance.

I mean providing for me when it seems I lack.

I mean gifting me my favorites to show you remembered.

I mean calling me on special days to show that you haven't forgotten.

I mean reminding me of events or things that I wished for even when I had forgotten.