One of my favourite boys that I think of fondly, without murderess thoughts or raging regret, is my fun-French-fling. He was dreamy. He had a sexy accent, education, cool clothes, fast car, was tall and could pull-off a scarf in summer in a manly way. I was rambling about my clothes, hair, nails or something that costs me a ton of money and time. Instead of bashing me as most un-informed men would - lets not pretend that being a girl doesn’t require a ridiculous amount of maintenance – I digress. He looked me straight in the eye and with his sexy accent said: “you’re not high maintenance. You just take care of yourself”. Boom. Truer words I have never heard. This man got women. I loved him just a little at that moment.
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