i must disclose that i’ve become addicted to the crass charm and unapologetic honesty of the thought catalog, an experimental digital magazine out of williamsburg, brooklyn that aspires to “shape culture by empowering writers to share their ideas and stories with the world.” that’s the kind of platform i want to shout my words from.
a particular post that i read just now took my fancy. so fancied that i took to my journal (and now blog) to scrawl my own prerogative. authored by chelsea fagan, the post dishes on the “embarrassingly unsexy things men do to impress women.” her shortlist (from dick pics to aggressive chivalry) is mildly humorous, albeit it true. the bucks don’t have much chance with the birds–we’re loco creatures that make it hard game for any bloke worthy of our time. yet no matter how progressive a lass is we all like to be courted. i mean i’m sure some ladies are charmed by conversational acrobats and penis worshipers, no?
single for some peaceful amount of time now i don’t think i can recant what doesn’t impress me about the male approach anymore. what i can do however is wholeheartedly embrace the seven things that a lad can do to turn me on.
here’s my authentic list:
1. make me a cup of ginger lemon tea to tuck me in at night.
2. converse with me about anything. it is amazing where idle chatter can lead.
3. be a maverick. call me spontaneously if for no other reason than to say hello. laugh and banter a wee bit. then bid adieu and hang up. be a renegade … and call back again soon.
4. let me dance by myself. a confident man knows that he and i are the only two people in the room.
5. send me a handwritten note in the mail. a vintage post stamp is the way to this girl’s heart.
6. take me to a used bookstore (or library) followed by a guiness at your favourite local for our very first date. trust me, that will get you way past first base.
7. start the day with the three words any lass would be privy to hear: “good morning beautiful”.
but who am i to define chivalrous charm for i am only one heart. perhaps charles bukowski was right when he slurred, “i remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the colour of forgotten love.”
luckily for me, i don’t write in crayon.