I am not a fan of forwards in general.Especially the Mushy,cheesy ones.
But this one is ok... oh yeah.. a little more than ok :)
Things women love about men.
The way they clean their homes in a hurry right before we come over…only so they can apologise for ‘the mess’.
The way they make gagging sounds when you put in a CD that doesn’t have the words death, iron or metal on the cover.
The way they bring you flowers one fine day just coz you thought they weren’t the ‘flowers kind of guy’.
The way their faces light up when you cancel plans with them so they can go watch the football match at a friend’s house.
The way they make up for the cancelled date the next night.
The way they refrain from yelling ‘Damn you women drivers’ when a woman cuts into a lane in front of them, just ‘coz you would take offence.
The way they cringe when you refer to a private, ridiculously mushy moment between the two of you in front of their guy pals.
The way they propose- and no, we don’t mean the candles and flowers routine- we mean the complete lack of eloquence, the inner conflict so obvious on the outside, and the relief on their faces when we say yes, even when they knew we would accept.
The way they hopelessly trip all over themselves trying to explain something they know they’re going to be thrashed for.
The way they can go nuts over a train set irrespective of whether they are 5 or 35 years old.
The way they will make the NASA-engineered cappuccino machine, without referring to the manual, their mission for a Sunday.
The way they pack their luggage- of course men who efficiently pack their own luggage are far more attractive, but we’ve yet to find them.
The way they can set right our nastiest mood, even the ones caused by them.
The way they are always around to carry heavy things that we can’t quite manage to.
The way that they’ll eat everything that we can’t and shouldn’t and believe that they’re doing us a favour.
The clean and sexy nape of their neck (some of them, only!) after a haircut.
The way their hand reaches out to hold you from hurling over the car seat protectively, when they fly over a speed breaker.
And Men Return The Favour
The way they smell, always sweet, and even when there’s a muskiness, a sweet muskiness.
The way they make us feel, loved, warmed, confused, destabilized.
The way they never want to invest in the sure thing that we’ve found on the stock market.
The way they have saved some money when the sure thing that we found on the stock market begins to look like a sure thing for the headlines of the crime pages·
The way they sneeze; yes, yes, but when you’re in love, the way a woman sneezes can melt something inside you.
The way they do not hear anything they do not want to hear.
The way they hear things that you did not say but which you meant or your tone implied.
The way they always want to save money but beat you to the cab door.
The way they always want to save money but buy shoes.
The way they look in those silly shoes that have exactly three square millimeters of red leather in their construction.
The way they massage their feet after they take off those silly shoes.
The way they buy more silly shoes but this time in blue.
The way they insist that it isn’t blue but teal.
The way they comb their hair, standing at the mirror, assessing themselves.
The way they suddenly behave like naughty school girls and then suddenly morph into Earth Mothers, dispensing wisdom, soup and comfort.
Their loyalty.
Their intelligence.
The bravery with which they confront us, like kittens, when they know the physical odds are stacked against them.
The way they sound on the telephone.
The way they sound on the telephone, half an hour later.
The way they rake their fingers into their hair disheveling it into perfection.
The way they always wake up before you and then potter about so half-asleep you can hear them and feel all the better about dozing.
The way they sort of slump into you in the cab, secure that you’re there; it makes you feel like you could leap tall buildings and catch bullets in your teeth.
But this one is ok... oh yeah.. a little more than ok :)
Things women love about men.
The way they clean their homes in a hurry right before we come over…only so they can apologise for ‘the mess’.
The way they make gagging sounds when you put in a CD that doesn’t have the words death, iron or metal on the cover.
The way they bring you flowers one fine day just coz you thought they weren’t the ‘flowers kind of guy’.
The way their faces light up when you cancel plans with them so they can go watch the football match at a friend’s house.
The way they make up for the cancelled date the next night.
The way they refrain from yelling ‘Damn you women drivers’ when a woman cuts into a lane in front of them, just ‘coz you would take offence.
The way they cringe when you refer to a private, ridiculously mushy moment between the two of you in front of their guy pals.
The way they propose- and no, we don’t mean the candles and flowers routine- we mean the complete lack of eloquence, the inner conflict so obvious on the outside, and the relief on their faces when we say yes, even when they knew we would accept.
The way they hopelessly trip all over themselves trying to explain something they know they’re going to be thrashed for.
The way they can go nuts over a train set irrespective of whether they are 5 or 35 years old.
The way they will make the NASA-engineered cappuccino machine, without referring to the manual, their mission for a Sunday.
The way they pack their luggage- of course men who efficiently pack their own luggage are far more attractive, but we’ve yet to find them.
The way they can set right our nastiest mood, even the ones caused by them.
The way they are always around to carry heavy things that we can’t quite manage to.
The way that they’ll eat everything that we can’t and shouldn’t and believe that they’re doing us a favour.
The clean and sexy nape of their neck (some of them, only!) after a haircut.
The way their hand reaches out to hold you from hurling over the car seat protectively, when they fly over a speed breaker.
And Men Return The Favour
The way they smell, always sweet, and even when there’s a muskiness, a sweet muskiness.
The way they make us feel, loved, warmed, confused, destabilized.
The way they never want to invest in the sure thing that we’ve found on the stock market.
The way they have saved some money when the sure thing that we found on the stock market begins to look like a sure thing for the headlines of the crime pages·
The way they sneeze; yes, yes, but when you’re in love, the way a woman sneezes can melt something inside you.
The way they do not hear anything they do not want to hear.
The way they hear things that you did not say but which you meant or your tone implied.
The way they always want to save money but beat you to the cab door.
The way they always want to save money but buy shoes.
The way they look in those silly shoes that have exactly three square millimeters of red leather in their construction.
The way they massage their feet after they take off those silly shoes.
The way they buy more silly shoes but this time in blue.
The way they insist that it isn’t blue but teal.
The way they comb their hair, standing at the mirror, assessing themselves.
The way they suddenly behave like naughty school girls and then suddenly morph into Earth Mothers, dispensing wisdom, soup and comfort.
Their loyalty.
Their intelligence.
The bravery with which they confront us, like kittens, when they know the physical odds are stacked against them.
The way they sound on the telephone.
The way they sound on the telephone, half an hour later.
The way they rake their fingers into their hair disheveling it into perfection.
The way they always wake up before you and then potter about so half-asleep you can hear them and feel all the better about dozing.
The way they sort of slump into you in the cab, secure that you’re there; it makes you feel like you could leap tall buildings and catch bullets in your teeth.
Post a Comment