Just take it. (4 min read)
Just take it.
The unique relationship between women and compliments.
Of all the beautiful qualities mother nature has bestowed on the other half of the sky (yes, women), there is one that most mesmerizes and astounds every bearer of the XY chromosome:
the utter, complete, reiterate incapacity to take a compliment.
This is particularly frustrating, given the fact that they swarm sixty-five percent of the time squeezed in very small black dresses and very high but surely comfortable for those-who-can-handle-pain-a-lot-better-than-men-because-they-give-birth-and-we-just-hold-the-camera, heels.
Being as tight as Sandra Bullock’s sphincter during Gravity, these marvelous garments have the quality to reveal the procacious (but never tacky) and desirable (whitin the limits allowed by law) shapes of thousands of millions of beautiful, wet (with just the acceptable amount of humidity) dreams.
Add that knack-knack from the stiletto heel just pushing up the thigh. That zero gravity space between the hip and the glute. You know what I’m talking about.
A man should have a heart made of shit and a soul made of garbage to not (internally) explode in a (very polite)
“HOLY MOTHER you are the most beautiful thing I’ve seen this week, can I…”
“…creep.”
Yeh. That’s the answer: “…creep.” With a mildly disgusted face too.
Now, let’s be honest. This shit has to end.
You girls can’t pretend compliments have a special alphabet that’s a weird mixture between ancient greek and cyrillic, it’s simply not fair.
Think about how you make the person who shared with you the JOY of your vision, I’ll write that again, just to make sure…
The. Joy. Provoked. By. Your. Vision.