Guys who are passive are just ugh. Having conversations with them is like swimming in a pool of coagulated grits. Spending time with them is like watching a French film in slow motion. Expecting them to take initiative is like waiting for Godot.
I'd much rather one brazenly escort me onto the dance floor without asking, risking my resistance, than to stand against the wall allowing song after song after song to slip by, like Hamlet, immobilized by the specter of action.
1 comment:
WORD!
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