Wednesday, December 7, 2011

he walks on the outside, closest to the street. always, no matter what.

they'd be en route to anywhere, really. saturday morning coffee. dinner reservations. or just a sunday stroll, and he'd be there without thinking twice. sometimes he'd carefully take her hand and, never skipping a beat, gracefully glide her to the inside where he could protect her. you know, just. in. case. in case something scary happened in the middle of that road.

it was what she loved most about him. his need to protect her. and, his good 'ol fashion manners.

he was a gentleman in every sense of the word. doors, they were his specialty. ladies first he'd silently whisper.

this all came effortlessly to him as if it was in his genetic makeup. he must have read the handbook, she thought to herself. or maybe it was that angel of a mother, caring father, or sisters three. {because somewhere behind every polite man is a good woman, yes?}

or maybe, he just really loved her.

*love this photo.


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