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She loves me the way I am, for the man I am. She is proud to be seen with me.
She knows I am not a wealthy man and cannot give her fine things.
I am fiercely loyal to her. She is my twin flame. My time spent with her is like sipping 300 year old Napoleon brandy. She's completely intoxicating... intellectually, physically and sexually. I can never get enough. Being with her in the mountains, sharing a fresh trail, discovering new ground, hand in hand beholding new vistas... arguing a point of Marcus Aurelius on nature and reason... exploring and pleasuring each other... there's nothing better.
I have always had a sideways outlook on life... philosophy... religion... politics... women... most things. She gets me. She gets my quirky gallows sense of humor. I'm naturally loud. She turns down my volume with a gentle look. (Most of the time.) She appreciates my silly romantic gestures. I hope she loves me all the more for them.
She is strong and secure in herself. She doesn't want or need to be married. She doesn't need a man totally devoted or to complete her. She doesn't want to be their sole focus. As much as I would like that, I know I would smother her and kill our love.
She is as comfortable outside at the campfire as she is in the living room by the fireplace. She is not afraid of a backpack, sleeping bag, tent or Repel 100. She knows how to waltz. She owns more beautiful ballgowns than any woman I've ever known. I want to dance with her in each one. We love to snuggle and cuddle watching TV, napping in the afternoon or telling each other our secrets, dreams, hopes and passions. I watch her face, listening, paying attention. If I don't know her plans, dreams and passions, how can I support her to achieve them? She is patient with me when I tell her she's beautiful, adored, treasured and loved beyond measure everyday. I don't think she completely believes me. She stands up to me. She intelligent, bright and sassy. She's completely adorable.
She brings out my romantic side. I love to open her car door when I can get there first... Pull out her chair... Stand when she comes to the table... I tell her how great she looks and l mean it... I get a kick out of opening her wine, pouring it and bringing it to her. I know she can do all of these things for herself. She is the first one to remind me that she is a strong, independent, intelligent, modern, capable woman. I do not believe she understands how much (even when Old Nick is driving his pitchfork so deep into me that I want to throw myself under a bus) I WANT to do these things for her.
You see my friend no woman should ever have to do these things herself when a man loves, adores, treasures and cherishes her. They are such tiny things. Yet, they bring me much joy. I'm not a fool. I'm not a doormat. Many young men in today's world think so. It's not true my friend. I don't have the words to express the depth of my emotions for her. These gestures are how I show her.
