You Don’t Want to Be Rescued. You Want to Be Ravaged.
Sunday love letter (vol. 7)
Last week, I told my partner I’ve never resonated with the damsel in distress archetype, despite being raised on Jesus and Disney.
Without missing a beat, he looked me dead in the eye and said,
“That’s because you don’t want to be rescued.
You want to be ravaged.”
And he was right.
Not ravaged in the way the world has made women fear—violated, erased, owned.
But ravaged in the way only a worthy warrior knows how—
by presence so unwavering it undoes your armor.
By hands that do not hesitate to worship the fire you’ve fought to reclaim.
By a gaze that says,
I see your strength and I rise to meet it.
See, the fantasy was never about being saved.
It was about being met.
And for those of us who’ve spent a lifetime being too much, too intense, too ambitious, too outspoken—
the real erotic charge is in finally being held with that same intensity.
We’re not looking for (just) protectors.
We’re looking for PARTNERS.
Someone who walks into the arena beside us, bloodied knuckles and all.
Who doesn’t flinch at our fullness.
Who craves the kind of connection that requires courage.
Because real love doesn’t ask you to soften your edges to make someone stay.
It asks you to sharpen your truth and see who’s still standing.
And the ones who stay?
They’re not afraid of your power.
They’re turned on by it.
So no, I don’t want to be rescued.
I want to be seen.
Chosen.
Claimed.
Not out of possession—
but out of presence.
That’s the thing about Warrior Love.
It doesn’t coddle.
It awakens.
And once you’ve tasted it,
you can’t go back to cheerleaders in the stands.
You want someone in the dirt with you,
pressing into your ribcage,
reminding you with every breath—
You’re not too much.
You’re just finally in the right company.
And if this kind of love feels far away—
if you’ve only known performance, politeness, or power plays masquerading as connection—
don’t lose heart.
You don’t call in warrior love by pretending you don’t want it.
You call it in by becoming the kind of presence that invites it.
Not by barking demands or hardening your heart.
But by standing in your truth with tenderness still intact.
This isn’t about being a bitch or an asshole.
It’s about being available—to yourself, first.
Available to be moved. To be matched. To be met.
With eyes open and spine tall.
Sometimes the invitation roars.
Sometimes it whispers.
Sometimes it shows up with a grin and a glint in its eye,
teasing, “Come find out if you can handle me.”
Start there.
With one truth.
One boundary.
One moment of choosing not to shrink.
Because the partners who can meet you in your fullness
won’t need you to be less.
They’ll recognize your fire because they’ve walked through their own.
They’ll stay not because you begged—but because they’ve been waiting too.
You were never too much.
You were just waiting for someone with the depth to hold you,
the courage to meet you,
and the hunger to ravage you—in the way only equals can.
If this stirred something in you—if you're tired of shrinking, tired of explaining, tired of pretending you want less than everything—
I help people like you create relationships that honor every part of who you are.
No masks. No edits. No shrinking.
When you're ready to be met,
I’ll show you how to become unmistakable.
🖤
Tamara