“It’s like watching a Doberman with a pink bow”, she said. I nodded with my usual “ummhmm”.

How does she even think of something like that? I’m reminded, she’s a woman. She’s sensitive, she’s feminine, she’s godly even —but most importantly— a woman. 

What else do I want?—I ask my greedy soul every night before I fall asleep. Nothing pops in my head, like always. But, gradually— I notice a beautiful thought creeping in. “I want more of her.” 

Why do I want more of her?— Because there’s always novelty when you have a feminine woman in your life. There’s always something to look forward to. There’s always joy, there’s always beauty in the most tiniest things, there’s always melancholy, there’s always laughter, there’s always tears— there’s always love—and there’s always ways to show that love.

How do I know there’s love?— I know it’s there because of the sudden, unwarranted, sneaky bites. I know it’s there because at breakfast time I’m asked what I want to eat for lunch. I’m reminded—“This fucking woman”. She’s everything I could ask for. I know it’s there because she cares. Cares enough to always look after me. Searches the entire house upside down for a medicine if I’m hurt. That care. That faithful smile when she asks me what I want to eat. That’s how I know it’s there.

What does she give me? Most of my days— even though eventful—were always filled with sorrow and dullness. I can read, I can code, I can distract myself with “hobbies”. But no attempt to escape that dullness is successful. And then there’s her. Every time I’m done with work, my instinct is to get in bed with her again, even though it’s for a few minutes. Every time I feel nothing, my instinct is to smoke with her. And even if there’s silence during we smoke— I know she’s there and I’m content. That’s what she gives me. Peace.

What will I do for her? “I’ll give her a White House with blue shutters”— I’ll give her everything she wants. The later house, the animals, the pink utensils, the family pictures, the little shed in the garden with a fireplace and ferry lights. I’ll give her needs and wants. I’ll give her safety. I’ll give her reassurance of my love. I’ll give her pomegranates. I’ll draw her pomegranates. I’ll sing for her. I’ll write for her. I’ll give her memories she wouldn’t forget all her life—even if she tries to.

What do I ask from her?—I ask for her patience. It will take months, years, or a decade to get there. It will be with trials and tribulations—But it will be there. She’ll have everything she wants because I’ll give it to her. It hurts me to see her face when she wants something but she can’t have it. But it’s a test. Like everything else in life. If she hangs in there with me when I’m down—She’ll get to sit on my shoulders as I go up. 

Her femininity is the calm harbour that anchors my sanity during the wrenching storms of life.

My queen. Me —her guard—her Doberman with a pink bow.