What I Love About Women

When it comes to the subject of women, one of the best things I ever heard said on the subject was "I love 'em all. Every goddamned one of 'em." I couldnt agree more. Let's face it; at a very fundamental level, I've been in love with every beautiful woman I've ever met. It's a difficult task to try and elucidate all that I love about women, but I feel that I must give some kind of an explanation, if for no other reason than so you understand why I cannot resist my compunction to run game on every hot girl I meet. So, here's my list.

The way women can make me laugh at goofy ass jokes I would physically abuse one of my guy friends for telling.

Bottom lip biting.

Boy shorts, belly button rings and French manicures.

Bath & Body Works Warm Vanilla Sugar. Like a hormonal bloodhound, I can pick this smell out from a hundred yards, and I cannot explain to you how on board I am with making women smell like dessert.

This piece of body language: You catch a girl you dont know looking at you and she looks straight down before looking away. Translation: You're in.

Girls with Southern accents and their ability to make the simple act of holding a longneck beer on a nice spring day pretty much the hottest thing ever.

How the really hot ones make me forget I have an exceptional vocabulary. A beautiful woman acts upon my brain's language center much the way Godzilla acts upon Tokyo. There is a lot of panic and screaming in a language no one understands, and suddenly the whole place is a smoldering ruin.

Their laughter and how it provokes my non-stop efforts to obtain it.

Internal logic that is utterly incomprehensible to men.

Their ability to make me let my guard down. The right woman can blow a hole a mile wide in my stoicism and I will simultaneously resent, be in awe of and love her for it.

The curve of a hip. Oh, I know most guys are ass men or breast men or whatnot, but something about that sinuous curve of a woman's hip throws me into my most primordial mode of thinking. The current trend of ridiculously low-rise jeans that expose the hips could well be proof that God's not mad at me anymore.

Women make the best friends, because it's like you can talk to them and stuff and then they, like... listen.

That ability women possess to convey five paragraphs of information with a single look.

Inside jokes. Sure, men have inside jokes with their drinking buddies. But something about inside jokes with women is so much more gratifying. It's as though, in some small way, you have managed to decode a tiny bit of that incomprehensible internal logic and dialed directly into her sense of humor.

Self-conscious blushing. Sometimes this is related to an inside joke, but more frequently, it is simply a by-product of the differing ways men and women communicate. Women are subtle, nuanced. Men are direct, and it's usually a direct comment from us that produces a self-conscious blush from them.

Everyone here knows it. Pussy has to be on the list. It just has to be.

Alright, fine. Blowjobs can come along, too.

The way women can, with no effort at all, either inspire or stop violence.

How, in the end, my type doesn't really matter. We all know I like my women Southern and blonde or Latina and Brunette, just as we all know that my head has snapped around on many a redhead. There is no telling who I'll find attractive on a day to day basis, and that's what makes women wonderful as a group; every one is an adventure. I really find all types of women attractive

Women make me cooler than the other side of the pillow. Without women in my life, I wouldn't know how to dress, how to behave or which celebrities are screwing this week.

How, despite their best efforts, they can't make me stop believing, at some deep-down level, in the concept of love.

Lip gloss. Lipstick is alright, I guess, but I have a strong predilection towards lip gloss. Lips that shiny and full scream "kiss me", and there is no way in hell I am going to disobey.

Her bathroom. I am a visitor in a strange land the moment I set foot inside a woman's bathroom. There is approximately $15,000 worth of product in there whose purposes cannot be readily surmised by the average heterosexual male. None the less, I know it all helps her look and smell the way she does, which makes my happy place tingly.

Her moods. As indecipherable as the tides, and every bit as intriguing, it is incumbent upon men to stay one step ahead of a woman's moods. We fail miserably at this task, and really... we're sort of okay with that.

Their recognition that, at many levels, we're really not ever going to grow up, and really... they're sort of okay with that.

I could do this all day, but now it is y'all's turn (and yes, thats the correct usage of the plural possessive of y'all). I didn't even scratch the surface of everything there is to love about women, so talk amongst yourselves about anything I overlooked. No misogynistic bullshit, guys. We're saving that for a whole 'nother blog.