A woman doesn’t need a Valentine. A woman doesn’t want a Valentine.
Just because a marketable holiday says so.
Please don’t misconstrue the intent of this letter; I won’t misprint, for I’m better . . . than all the askers who’ve contacted you thus far. This is what I want you to do: I want you to weigh the others’ weak ask and avail your heart and mind of the task . . .
. . . of making your consideration of me the last of them all. Yes, I urge you to take your time and thoroughly assess their silly approach–because I’m about to broach a romance idea unlike any other.
My understanding is the winter wonderland you find yourself hemmed by, there on the Atlantic coast, has rather lost its allure. Postcard-worthy though it may be, the blizzardly sins and blustery winds of mother nature make a getaway in February so very necessary.
The beauty of world climate is, when one part of the globe is arctic-like, there’s an opposing weather event occurring in the other–like discerning between a Valentine impostor and a truly gifted lover. You wish the former would simply go away and the latter, by all means, must stay.
More than a Valentine. Precisely what you need.
A marketable holiday simply is not enough. After all, what about Saturday the 15th? And Sunday the 16th?
And would it really be so bad if our Valentine retreat spilled into the following week? I mean, who gives a damn about Monday anyway?
By the way, this Valentine’s Day falls on Pamper-Her-Friday. Yes, I had a hand in it; I spoke with the calendar gods some time ago. Call me proactive. But a woman likes that in her Valentine, yes? (Are you smiling on that one?)
So, again, assess the others’ ask and save mine for last. The very last thought. The final contemplation.
And then, woman, pack a light bag. I’m making my way there shortly.
No, a woman doesn’t need a Valentine. A woman doesn’t want a Valentine. Just for a holiday.
A woman wants a truly gifted lover who knows what the hell he’s doing. Like no other.
I’m on my way.
© 2014 Romance by Rg2®