Maybe it's just a bad habit, but I am the ultimate cheesy romantic. I like that bad boy turned good. I like the stubble around the lip, a guy who works hard for his money. Yeah, the pretty boys, who will take me on a genie ride. I may have high expectations, and half the world may be shaking their heads at my outrageous ideas, but I think everyone forgets the other thoughts, the ones I don't leave out. I don't want a perfect guy, I want a best friend, who loves to talk to me whenever and forever, who is goofy with me, and even when I am a complete bitch will tell me I'm beautiful til the day I die. But not only that, tell me when I am being a bitch straight up, and help me fix myself, cause I can't go it alone. Nor do I expect the lover of all lovers to do that.
Is it horrible, really horrible to actually be ready to fall in love, with that best friend I have always been searching for? To want to have that giddy feeling inside my belly, to feel my heart melt again? To be grumpy with them, to grow old with them, to laugh at people with them, to get lost with them, to travel, to go paintballing, to LIVE.
God bless the man who gets my heart, for he will be eternally loved, with no glance at another man, no worries in the world, cause my love is pure, good, and real, and ready to be shared.
This old soul, is going restless.
I want that guy best friend.
But in all honesty I think I already gave my whole heart away a couple of years ago.
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