I'm attracted to women who are smart and funny and ambitious and

“I’m attracted to women who are smart and funny and ambitious and have lives of their own and great families. Isn’t that what attracts anyone?” Thus spoke Tom Brady, the champion of his age, a man whose name was carried upon the cheers of multitudes, yet who, in this simple confession, revealed a truth older and nobler than victory itself—the longing of one soul to meet another in wholeness. His words are not merely about attraction; they are about respect, about the harmony of equals, about love as recognition, not possession. For Brady does not speak as the conqueror seeking a prize, but as the seeker yearning for balance.

When he names the qualities that draw him—intelligence, humor, ambition, independence, family—he is naming not adornments, but virtues of spirit. The smart are not merely learned, but awake; the funny see truth lightly, as the wise once did; the ambitious strive not for wealth alone, but for purpose; those with lives of their own walk unchained, whole unto themselves; and those with great families understand loyalty, kindness, and the ties that make endurance possible. Brady, in his way, is describing not desire, but admiration—the attraction that arises when strength recognizes strength, and completeness is drawn to completeness.

The origin of this wisdom lies not in romance alone, but in the nature of all human relationships. The ancients knew this well. Aristotle wrote that friendship of the highest order is based not on pleasure or utility, but on virtue—when two people love one another for the good they see and cultivate within each other. In Brady’s words, that ancient idea lives anew: he is drawn to those who stand on their own feet, who need not be completed, but rather met. For love that seeks to possess will always decay, but love that seeks to honor endures.

Consider the story of Marcus Aurelius and his wife Faustina. Though he was emperor of Rome, he loved her not for her beauty or status, but for her wit, her will, and her strength of character. In his journals, he wrote of her as a partner in governance and in spirit. Their union was not the joining of master and servant, but of two flames that burned brighter together. So too does Brady’s reflection point toward such partnerships—where equality, admiration, and laughter become the pillars upon which affection stands.

Yet beneath his tone there is also humility. “Isn’t that what attracts anyone?” he asks—not to boast of his discernment, but to remind us that this yearning for wholeness is universal. We all, in our own ways, are drawn to those who reflect the parts of ourselves we value most. To seek the intelligent, the kind, the ambitious, is to reveal what we aspire to be. The company we keep is the mirror of our soul. Thus, Brady’s words become both declaration and invitation: to recognize in others the same light we strive to kindle within ourselves.

But his reflection also carries a lesson for the ages. In a world where many mistake love for control, and attraction for ownership, Brady reminds us that true desire is freedom recognizing freedom. To love someone with “a life of their own” is to rejoice, not in their dependence, but in their autonomy. The wise have always known this: love that cages will fade; love that gives space will soar. The philosopher Lao Tzu once wrote, “Love deeply and you will be hurt. Love deeply still.” Brady’s words echo this truth—only the strong can love without fear, for they know that to share life with another strong soul is not to lose the self, but to expand it.

So, dear listener, learn from this: seek companions, not possessions. Be drawn not to those who fill your emptiness, but to those who call forth your fullness. Let your admiration be born from respect, your attraction from equality. Cherish those who laugh with you, challenge you, and walk beside you—not behind, not before. And if you are blessed to meet one who is smart, funny, ambitious, and whole, give thanks, for you have found not only love, but partnership—the meeting of two complete lives that choose, day after day, to walk together.

For as Tom Brady reminds us, what truly draws the heart is not perfection, but presence—two spirits, standing tall, recognizing in one another the same fierce will to live, to dream, to grow. And in that recognition lies the oldest and purest kind of love—the kind that does not bind, but liberates.