Three reasons: monthly parting of the Red Sea, sexual objectification, and stupid ass hormones!
Anyone willing to accept these things must REALLY want it!
Everyone requires a different type of love. Human emotion and years of media saturating ours minds would lead us to believe that we all need the same kind of love but that’s just not true. We’d all like to think that we could have what happens in movies where our heroine and hero fall in love, float in a canoe surrounded by swans or have that perfect kiss in the rain and live happily ever after, but we all have our own seperate loves. And they can’t be planned. And attempting to is only a disservice to ourselves. Planning is stupid but hoping for is human nature. The kind of love I hope for is completely unique to me and who I am, and wouldn’t be exact to your own. The kind of love I want involves hardwood floors and knee socks as I cradle his head in my lap because we’ve sat down to watch a movie and he always fall asleep. My ideal love would be smiling whenever I see him unexpectedly because he still gives me the same butterflies that he gave me when we first started dating. My kind of love is him running his hands through my hair and looking at me in a way that only he could. My love is us enjoying our time apart because we know that when we do reunite that we’ll have missed eachother so much. My love is never ever getting tired of rolling over in the morning and seeing his peaceful face accompanied by that beautiful back that he has. My love is knowing that no matter what I’m it for him and in all the ways that I love him…he loves me.
there’s nothing like a man who can notice a beautiful woman outwardly and not seem like a creep in the process…
like a man who can look at you in passing, smile, look back or even physically turn his body to watch as you walk away without all of the catcalling, hissing, and stupid ass puns that don’t work but only make you walk away even faster.
a rare thing but a cherished one none the less!
You know you love a man when you adore the way that he breathes
How could I love something that’s so natural..
that it doesn’t even have to be taught
So how can someone do something so small but that small something means the world to you?
I love the way that his chest rises and falls when he’s focused on his favorite tv show
I adore the way his chest expands when he’s angry
And that rapid influx when he yells
The varying patterns
The way that passion sounds
With its louder than normal inhaling and exhaling that could only be adequately be described as almost orgasmic
I love the way that his collarbone causes the neck of that gray tshirt that I love so much to rise and fall making the material stretch ever so slightly right across his perfection
The way that it looks as he lies with his head in my lap
Like each breath is a blessing
Like a gift just for me
Like I should be thanking God each time because I know that his breath is the soundtrack to your sanity
6’ and over