Should I ever be so lucky as to be wooed. To be researched and conquered by a worthy specimen.
To be thought of so highly that any amount of time and effort would be spent on me.
Possibly, to be thought of first. Before kids. Before other family. Before work and bills.
To be the first thing thought of in the morning, and the last thought at night.
Wooed. With flowers and boats on a pond. With picnics or a turn on a skidpan 😉
To be wooed by a surprise visit. Or a trip to the maul. Holding hands because you can’t not.
To feel the electricity from a touch, a look.
To know that you have been weighed and found perfect.
I have a book here – “The Wooing of the Water witch”. Printed in 1881. it’s an old book, hence the old fashioned word, woo. Do men still do that? Do they still go to any kind of trouble to get to know a woman? Or do they really all just try to get rid of the panties the quickest way possible? Is there a single man out there that can be gallant enough to ply a woman with poetry and sweet words, small gestures, grand ones, a kiss on the knuckles, a flower swiped from the neighbour’s yard…
Or is it all just a Hollywood fantasy?
Ok, so I watched a movie last night. This means war. Cute movie, although I would have preferred to not see yet another Hollywood love story. They make me want impossible things, dream of unreachable endings. Therefore, I avoid them like the plague. But last night’s movie was a bit of a misrepresentation – I thought I was getting an action packed thriller with a good looking Brit, but I got a relatively action packed love story. With a blonde being wooed. Go figure!
Still. It’s a really gorgeous day here at the southern tip of Africa. Blue skies, slight breeze, birds twittering, chimes chiming – let’s enjoy it to the fullest, for tomorrow is but a dream on the horizon.