I was in Brazil once with a then girlfriend. Shift of the millennium, it was. New Year had passed and we remained for great fun. Renting a beach buggy and driving along endless dunes of the shore. Spending noon’s at café’s watching as old couples walked the boardwalk hand in hand. She sipping Caipirinha, I a Brahma. Sharing smiles and jokes with the young lads of no more than 12-14 years they be, hitting on her, charm her like only Latino’s can.
One day, I decided I wanted to do something for her. We took aim at a shopping centre, and I said I wanted to buy her a summer dress of my choice. My choice only.
I invested quite some time for this task, found plenty which were OK, but I wanted it to be perfect.
Suddenly, as we walked past a shop so little it might have been easily missed, there it was. A black fabric very delicate, adorned with flowers towards beige, light, ending right below the knees, revealing a tad of her back, much of her shoulders.
It rested so perfect on her body, it must have been created only for her. She refused at first due to the price, but a refusal was not to be had that day.
That dress, she cherished it more than any other piece of clothing. Sometimes I would ask her to wear it, because I found her perfect to become beyond perfect in it, I told her. And she would shine.
It’s very simple, not much of a quest, really, to invest the time to buy a piece of clothing for your woman. It’s not the same thing to buy one and come home with, what I’m talking about here is she there with you, watching as you do this act of love for her.
It’s funny, I just remembered. My father once lived in Paris. Years gone by, he wanted to venture back, sentimentality and all. I and he took off. Upon closing in on the day when we would head home, something must be purchased to mother, he said. He asked me what, and I said: We are in Paris, bring a dress from Paris.
I posted it in the International forum, but I should have known that it would be utterly wasted there, and knocked by one of their american men so romantic, put a cobra on crack on his side it would seem a Don Juan in comparison.
Sleepwalking down by the downtown moat where we don't have any crocodile, shark, piranha, or giant octopus guarding the city from invading Cameroonian Ewondo warriors.
PietroPaoloV Forum Posts (722)
Do you want to hear your soul release a sigh of joy?
Aren't they?I will bring out another, hold on!