A Love Tantrum In The Grocery Store Of Her

I stomp my feet, like a child mad he can't have candy because She still doesn't understand me. A book once told Her that I was from Mars, but I disagree because only my thoughts of Her are out of this world. And I don't speak alien, I speak manly. It's a soft and strong dialect with an emotional undertone. A language She still can't comprehend because She's only used to hearing all the BS and True Lies. I want more than behind, I want a mind with behind. I want weekends of sprung spoiling; filled with fruit feeding, face foundling with gentle fingers and sultry slow dancing to Love songs made in the early...late 90's. I'm an only child, not spoiled, but I do want what I want when I want it, but willing to earn it which defeats the stereotype. Is this too much to ask? Too much to ask would be me asking Her to Love me more than She Loves Herself, and I could never suggest that because then that would mean She'd suck at Loving me because She doesn't Love Herself enough. So can I get my treat now? Or what more must I do before I can enjoy that chewy feeling? That sugary rush that keeps my wheels turning with no plans on hitting breaks? I want Her, I want Her, I want Her.

"And Why?"

It sucks when you're forced to not think about the person that makes your world spin round and round until your punch-drunk-dizzy with foolish Love. Birthdays and holidays important to them are erased from the notepads of chivalry and the discreet sheets of a damsels diary. A once long and lengthy to do list full of charming and caring errands are now crossed out...
And not because you're purposely neglecting what's meaningful to them, but because it's what you need to do in order to get over them. I mean, Less than a yard stick away across a quaint little dinner table made special for two. Lit with illume candles, pineapple-plum scented which makes the evening even sweeter....An intoxicated host "the crystal carafe" also known as "the functioning drunk" or "the panty key" stands tall decorating the center piece with it's belly less than half full (because the thirst of lust makes the two of you so parched that you become instant lush) of a perfectly aged, cellar temperature wine. Gourmet food prepared by some top chef lays pretty like a model relaxing on a foreign beach, but its sand is fine china... hand crafted and tagged with the neat signature of the dreamer who built the dream that holds the seat up underneath your cheeks. A grateful date who is not afraid to spend your time and enjoy it...sits with: Honest eyes focused only on seeing the possibilities of how in Love the two of you could be; Pure Patience for your growth like a botanist raising a rare plant; and amazing attention to your unique detail like some crazed OCD patient. Yet all we do is think about you....And why?