I think many women live under the mistaken belief that their genitals are made of gold (or platinum).
They think they can do whatever they want in terms of behaving like a petulant overgrown woman and then as long as they "put out" SOME man will want them in the "my princess" sort of way.
Those women never understand, a man will be Mr. Romantic when he has a woman who is not only a lady, but HIS muse.
Indeed. I'm never writing a poem for Miss Dior Watch.
I have the beginning of one floating around in my head, mind you -
June's countenance was fresh and fair
July's was passionate and wild
August's withered in the sultry air
But September greets me with a smile.
And as the air begins to cool
And the hint of woodsmoke begins to rise
I note that while the seasons follow rules
There is still room for a surprise.
The rest of the poem will come later when the appropriate lady arrives. I just hope she shows up before the end of the month!
Regards, Ivan