The List

Not Just Tall, Dark, and (Barely) Respectful

What’s that one question almost everyone is asked - from celebrities in interviews to your friend group at dinner?
“What’s your list?”
What do you look for in a partner?
And several equally stressful variations of the same question.

So... what is your list?
Don’t think of it as the most ideal version, or the one your friends think would be just perfect for you. And please - for your own sake - don’t fall into the trap of being “low-maintenance” just to seem agreeable. You know the type: “I don’t need much. Just someone respectful.”
Been there. Done that.
Stop.
You’re not applying for a charity partnership.

Why is everything in between “nothing much, just loyal I guess” and “six-figure salary, six-pack , sexy car, sexy body, good jawline, nice…” - just… unacceptable?
Because I’m too kind and too self-aware to be the latter, I’ve spent most of my life being the former.
Just respectful. JUST respectful?! Girl. That’s not a standard. That’s selecting for “not actively evil.”
Chill out.
This is not just for my girls here - to anyone reading this: your list deserves to exist. A list that includes more than vague moral adjectives or cartoon checklist traits. And once you’ve made it?
Please.
Respect the list.
Or you’re not being honest - not to yourself, not to your partner, and definitely not to your future life.

What’s wild is - most people don’t even know they’ve already internalised someone else’s list. The romantic blueprint isn’t really yours; it’s your mother’s quiet checklist, your friends’ Instagram captions, or the vague pressure of wanting to be chosen by someone with “good prospects.” You end up with this Frankenstein list - one part Bollywood, one part bad advice, one part hunger for validation. No wonder it doesn’t fit you.

P.S It’s not that huge ( no pun intended), it’s really just as simple as the fictional concept of a ‘meet cute’, you just have to click and if it doesn’t click but you want it to click, then it HAS clicked ( you will get it).

And if you’re someone who prides themselves on being kind, emotionally generous, and endlessly understanding - you’re even more likely to go minimalist. As if you’re scared to inconvenience the other person with your needs. “Just respectful” becomes the acceptable baseline, because you don’t want to be called picky. But listen - picky is not a slur. Picky is just another word for knowing what fits you.

The list is not about your morals. It’s not about the politically correct, 2025-approved values you’re supposed to have. It’s about your emotional wiring, your lived experience, and the very personal way you want to be loved. It can include things like - “makes me laugh like I’m 13 again,” or “isn’t threatened by my career,” or “doesn’t flinch when I talk about pain.” Your list can be soft. Or serious. Or silly. But it has to be yours.

And here’s the catch: most people don’t write their list until after a relationship breaks them. You only sit down with yourself once you’ve been disrespected by someone who checked every box. That’s when it hits you - oh, I never asked for safety. I never asked for slowness. I never asked to feel seen. And that also, eats away at your good things and becomes unfair for the next person who will come by.

You were just hoping the bare minimum would magically include the rest.

But the truth is, it never does.

So maybe your real list isn’t just about what you want. It’s about what you refuse to beg for. Respect. Loyalty. Kindness. Those aren’t bullet points - they’re prerequisites. The list begins after that. The list is the part where you stop asking for permission and start asking for presence.

Here’s what they don’t tell you: when you start naming things, out loud, unapologetically, the list will scare people who hoped you’d settle for less. That’s fine. Let it.

You’re not hard to love. You’re just done pretending that love means shrinking.