Precious

T
he big strong brave men, that we've all been reading about in novels and watching in movies since we've been nine years old, - -that's a fallacy. They don't exist. Men are not strong. Men are not brave. Men, are afraid. Even if they have a moment in a hotel elevator and it's totally romantic and full of potential, men are incapable of copping to it because, why? Men are weak.

Let me tell you something about women. Women would have us believe that they are the victims; That we break their hearts for sport. That's crap. They say they want romance, they say they want true love, but all they want is a check list. Is he perfect? Is he handsome? Is he a doctor? For you men who fit the criteria, don't kid yourselves. Cuz they're not sleeping with you, they're sleeping with a carefully calculated set of venal choices. Money over substance, looks over soul, polished over principles. No gesture, no matter how real or romantic will ever compensate for a really impressive list of credentials.

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

...i don't need a love life in order to be happy☺☺

'And you decorated my life, created a world where dreams area apart.
And you decorated my life by paintin’ your love all over my heart,
You decorated my life...