The Female Of The Species Is More Deadlier Than The Male

You people are too kind.

For a long while, I was actually anticipating someone to comment on how freaking gay I was to consistently harp on unmanly issue like love.

Something like:

'SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU SISSY NUNCLE FUCKER! QUIT WHINING
LIKE A FAG!'

Yeah, somewhat like that. But you people are too kind.

I too have zero idea as to why I kept writing about love these days.

I have this idea after realising that a lot of ladies out there like to reminisce or recount how they would miss their men.

Guys do that about their missus too, though not always, not really comprehensive with the details and never in front of their frat buddies (it makes us sound gay).

Despite sometimes our kiss and tell may be a tad prudish, like 'Man! I bang moi bitch outta her fuckin' brains!', or 'Oh Gawd, guess what we did in her parents' room last night?'

Yeah. Gloating is an old culture shared by the XY chromosomes worldwide.

Nevertheless, guys miss stuff about their women all the time. It's just that we don't talk about it much.

Like we never tell you how we like to sniff your hair, the area just behind the ears. Or how delicate your neck is. Guys have this weird thing about a woman's neck. The smooth streamline that holds your pretty face drive us crazy at killing distance. The way how female necks appear when you tie your hair up, an feminine gesture always appreciated by us since we had mothers.

We may never spoke of it, but we adore your fluttering eyes, your cheekbones, your freckles, your pencil-like collarbone and your lips. We may not actually be listening to your lectures when your lips moved, but we stare at them for a good reason. We really like your lips.

I'm sure most of us look at you when you were sleeping. Like an angel, and then you will spoil the moment with a short snore and roll over, pulling all the blankets. I think most of us laugh gently at that, like a private joke.

We like to see you naked, that's for sure. You in the light, back facing us. The probe of the scapulae to the curves of your waist and your round hips. Your glowing hair navigating away. That instant, you are the goddess. We will do anything for you.

We like the warmth of your fingers around our faces, reaching for our waists on our dates, and in the nights when you need to hug us.

We love how you always acted stupid and naive with us, when we both know perfectly how much you are actually capable of.

We are a bunch of horrible sadists. We enjoy watching you cry in the movies or how our actions move you to tears. We cannot really cry, so when you cry, you cry for the both of us.

We are capable of worshipping you in such ways, but it is not our practice to declare them.

For those guys who never had the opportunities to give such testimonials to their beloved, I hope my little bit helps.

Aye man.

Bambi in the headlight.

I miss her.

God damn it.